Yeah, so it was at my first FIS (Fatone Infestation Syndrome) meeting that I met Jen. I stood up and introduced myself to the the crowd (well, actually it was just me, Jen, and a few kids that were throwing balls around the McDonald's playplace where the meeting was held).
"Hi, my name is Mo. And I... oh God, I promised myself I wouldn't cry... I have... I have, FIS."
Jen clapped loudly and did the Arsenio Hall bark, with her fist in the air. "Yeah! You go girl! Ain't no shame. The first step is admitting you have a problem. So, what are your symptoms?"
"Well, just, you know... I think Joey's... I think he's... oh the shame! I think he's attractive."
I waited for Jen to respond. She was silent for awhile but began to turn purple, suddenly... "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She rolled around on the floor for awhile while I cried. "Sorry girl, I know it's painful, but DAMN! That's funny."
"Oh, what am I going to do?!" I wailed like Brit Brat when someone actually calls her on the boob job.
Jen threw an arm around my shoulders and whispered.... "You want your man? Then let's go get him. I've been waiting years to get my hands on some Stevie meat but I could never admit it because I was hiding behind a lust for Justy. But now, now my child, we shall band together and get ourselves some sweet, sweet, kinda sweaty, Fatone lovin." And with that, she told me her plan.
***
Jen and I decided to meet up at Pleasure Island. (Not for any particular reason, we just thought we'd start the evening with a little sexual innuendo.) Anyway, I arrived and got out of the limo I had rented for the evening. As I walked around looking for Jen, I hoped that I wasn't too conspicous in my black lace push-up bra, red leopard print mini-skirt, and thigh high black hooker boots. Suddenly, I thought I heard Jen's voice coming from behind me, and so I turned to see her, dressed to the nines. There she was, in all her eighties throw back splendor. Shiny red halter top, black biker shorts with a gold stripe down the side, and a poofy black and red polka dot Debbie Gibson inspired skirt, and to finish the ensemble, gold go-go boots.
"Girl!" I yelled when I saw her, "How'd you track down Madonna's hairstylist? I am lovin the bow!"
She laughed, "And look at you Miss Thang, with the top-of-the-head pony tail. Who are you? Britney?"
"Oh no you didn't. At least its really my hair and not some nappy extentions."
We both laughed, forgetting the insults, and were friends again.
"Are you ready for the action to begin?" Jen asked as we headed off to the infamous black rapist van.
"Oh yeah." I replied, "I'm ready to get me some creamy Italians."
***
So, off we went to the O-rena where the boys were performing for the night, with the limo close behind. After some heavy uh, "negotiations" with the security team, Jen and I were able to pull up in back and wait till the concert was over. All at once the boys came running out of the venue. Jen and I hid behind the door and waited until Joey and Steve came stumbling out. Thinking quickly, we spun them around in a circle, throughly confusing them. Suddenly, Lance turned to say something to Joey and caught sight of me, "Hey!", he said as I froze, thinking the mission was going to be over before it began. "Did you get that bra at Victoria's Secret?"
"Um yeah, I did. But, um, hey, you'd better get going to the limo, I think I hear the rumble of twelve year olds coming this way!"
"A limo? I thought we were taking a bus to the afterparty." Lance said, confused.
Jen stepped in as the Fatone brothers continued to bump into each other. "Change of plans, Poofu my sweet, tell the other guys. Go on Scoopers, run! Good boy!" And after Jen gave him a swift kick in the ass, Lance scampered off.
As the others piled into the limo, we took our brainless men by the hand and led them to the rapist van. They finally got their bearings and began to stare at us. Joey's mouth hung open even wider than usual, and drool dripped out through the chip in Steve's tooth. Jen and I looked at each other... then pounced.
"Oh Stevie," Jen cooed, "I don't know a sexier rat than you. You make my slap bracelets uncurl!"
"Duuuuuuuuuuuh." Was Steve's only response.
I threw Joey against the van and licked his chest. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that was a flavored wife beater. My bad." Joey just giggled like a little girl.
"What's going on?" A high-pitched voice yelled. Chris was coming closer to the van. "Hey! Get off that girl Joey! Damnit Steve, I thought we told you no more groupies!"
"Rats! And I don't mean you Stevie." Jen said as Chris pulled the brothers away from us. "Ok, Mo. On to plan B. Off to the afterparty!"
"Woo hoo! I can't wait to do some serious booty dancin!" I yelled, hanging out the passenger side window as Jen sped off to the club.
***
After a quick change of clothes so the security guards wouldn't recognize us, we were ready to recapture those studly brothers Fatone. This time Jen was dressed in a sparkling lime green tube top, white booty shorts with the word "Luvslave" spelled in lime green sequins on the ass, and no shoes for the full trailor park hooker look. I was looking rather luscious in a lasagna noodle tube top, purple plastic ass shorts with the word "Supa" written in rhinestones across the back, and purple alligator skin heels.
We shoved our way through the eight-twelve year olds and their moms and got into the back of the club by using our fake id's that said we were seventy-seven year olds from Tulsa. (Ok, I lied. My id said I was seventy-nine. Sorry.) Anyway, when we got there we were stopped by J.C.
"Hi ladies, wanna freak on each other?" He said as he shifted the stick in his ass to an even more uncomfortable postion.
"Um, well, I don't think so...." I replied.
"Stop being so nice Mo." Jen said as she moved between me and J.C. "Listen, I may be here tonight to see somebody with nappy teeth, but it ain't you heroin boy, so why don't you move outta the way before I call your supplier and tell him to cut you off?"
At that point, J.C. fell to the ground weeping and begged Jen not to do it. She kicked him, and we moved on.
"Hey ya'll!" Lance said in that deep, deep, sweet, oh God, sexy voice of his.
"He's mine, you take out Chris." I said to Jen as the little leprachaun himself scampered towards us.
"Got it. So hey, Chris, I'm so sorry you got rid of the dreads man, they were so HOT!" Jen said, as she tried to hold Chris in one place long enough for her eyes to focus on him.
"Really? Cuz, I was thinkin that I got too much crap for em and stuff, but if you think they'd look good again, we could go out back and you could put em back in!"
Jen looked over her shoulder at me and winked before leaving with Chris.
"So, um, Lance. How's Topang...er, Danielle?"
"Oh God! Why does everybody always ask me about that skank! I'm not even dating her, I never was. I just said that so everyone would stop calling me the gay one! She's actually a lesbian anyway, she and Britney get it on. Why did I ever say I was dating her! Why oh why oh why!!!!!" And so Lance just freaked out without me really having to do anything. (Bonus, now I had dirt on Danielle and Brit Brat, so, good times.)
Finally Jen returned, a satisfied look on her face.
"What did you do?" I asked, a little afraid of the answer.
"I made him look at his drivers licence. He was so horrified at his real age that he just hobbled off to die alone."
"Cool beans hot soup!" I said, high five-ing her. Three down. On to the next victim.
"Hey, have you seen my little Justy, sir?" Jen asked someone nearby, soon after realizing it was Britney as she turned around angrily.
"What?! Are you calling me butch? I'm not a lesbian damnit, I'm screwing Justin Timberlake, I swear! Oh God, have you been talking to Lance? I'M A POP PRINCESS!"
"What was Brat's problem?" Jen asked as the inflated Miss Spears ran from the club, grabbing Justin by the crotch on her way out.
"That's right, we're gonna have sex!" She screamed as the back door slammed. I just shrugged as Jen and I continued the quest.
***
And finally, there, sitting under the heavenly light of a bare light bulb were our men. Joey's superman shirt clung to his large body in a way that drove me wild. And even from behind the video camera, Steve was looking his Italian best. (Which, isn't really saying much but, you know.)
Jen and I linked arms and sauntered up to them like we've never sauntered before. Just before we reached their table, and as Steve was boob-camming us, Jen stepped away from me and started dancing like the girl from the Ricky Martin video. As her butt cheeks jiggled like no other, Steve zoomed in, lost his balance and fell to the floor. Jen shook on over and helped him up, never stopping her dance 'o seduction.
"Come on Stevie, it's time you started calling me coffee."
"Wwwhhhhhhhyyyyyyyy?" Steve managed to slur.
"Cuz boy! I'm gonna grind you so fine!" Jen slung the massive Steve over her shoulder and headed for the back door. "If the rapist van's 'a rockin, don't come 'a knockin. You're on your own girl!" And with that, she was gone. (Well, actually on her way out she rammed Steve's head into the door, but seeing as it's him, there wasn't any damage done.)
Now it was my turn. I snapped my fingers and instantly, as if in some episode of Saved By The Bell, the whole club froze. Then the music began to play.
Everybody in the car, so come on let's ride....
I did a front tuck and landed in Joey's lap. "A little bit of you makes me... a very happy girl." I whispered in his ear. "The car's out back, now, let's do what the song says and take a little ride." And magically, Joey somehow was able to understand that, and as "Rock the Cradle of Love" blared from the speakers of the club, my superman carried me out to the limo and made me a woman. (Unfortunately, I also became one of the millions of Americans who are infected with herpes. But, hey, it was worth it, right?)
*Ok, now that you are done laughing your asses off, let us know what you thought! Any email will be forwarded to this brilliant humorist named Mo. :) Thanks ya'll...it's been fun. Peace out.
Aghhh Fatone's SCARE Me! Thrust Me Home!