Jon Stewart blue pic
 

 Jon Stewart Intelligence Agency
    A n   u n o f f i c i a l   f a n   c l u b

We're fighting, apparently, with one of
Xena's web sites. It's a huge battle.

— Jon Stewart on the JSEB

 


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The Fan Files
 Fun Fiction

 

The Adventures of Jewey Jewman and Friends
   Round Three: Untitled
Started May 26, 2002
by The JSIA Bulletin Board

By Sara J.

The night was unusually thick and muggy in the late New York City summer. Deep in the halls of The Daily Show, Jon was having trouble keeping his head up as the hours stretched on. Lower and lower his head dropped, until - BANG! His forehead hit the table and he was out like a light.

Some time later, he jerked awake and rubbed his eyes. "Wha...?" he mumbled unintelligibly, and shook the grogginess from his head. He stood up and walked to the break room in hopes of finding a soda, or a beer, or the meaning of existence, or something light to hold him over until breakfast. What he got was nothing he expected.

The halls seemed strangely...foggy. "But I'm inside," he said to himself. "It can't be foggy inside." Despite this classic horror flick warning sign, he pressed on until he reached the break room fridge. Sadly, all that remained was a small carton of non-dairy creamer. He figured Steve must've swiped all the contents again, and grudgingly gulped down the last of the creamer. Uh...non-dairy creamer. He shuddered and looked at the label. "What the hell is nondairy creamer?" he asked nobody in particular. "Must be a paradox. Like government service, or...infotainment."

Absent-mindedly, he put the empty container back in the fridge and turned to walk out the door, but found it shut tight. "Hmm. I don't remember closing..."

He trailed off when he noticed a thick, slimy substance oozing over his shoes from under the door. "Oh, gross. We just had the carpet shampooed, too."

A strangled, hissing sound came from behind the door. He could have sworn it was saying...

"Ssssssstewart..."

Jon stepped back from the door, eyes wide. The entire room had gone dark. Someone...or...something...was pounding and clawing ferociously at the door, desperately trying to get at him. But there was nowhere to go...Jon was trapped! Trapped and alone!

"You must die, Jon Stewart! I will never rest until I see you to your death!" a hideous, garbled voice shrieked from behind the door. Jon found himself backed against the far wall, braced for the worst. With a deafening crash, the slimy beast careened through the door at him, traces of...of puppy ears hanging sickeningly from its jaws! The horrid thing was a massively deformed Kathie Lee Gifford, pure rage and hatred, coming after Jon! This was it, this was the end! Nobody would know he had been killed by Kathie Lee and nobody would know she was still alive!

*SNAP*

Bright lights...voices...

Jon jerked violently awake and fell off his chair to the floor, drenched in sweat and breathing hard.

"Woah, chill my man," Stephen Colbert said, standing by the light switch. "Some nightmare, huh?" Beside him, Steve Carell bit down on a licorice rope and yanked the end.

Jon scrambled to his feet and grabbed Stephen's coat.

"I...saw...her...it...I saw..."

"Saw what?" Steve asked. Jon, eyes wide as an owl's, turned to him. "Kath...Kath..."

"What is it, boy? Danger? Timmy's caught in the well?" Stephen teased. Suddenly, Jon straightened up and smacked Stephen upside his head. "Kathie Lee, I saw Kathie Lee! She's alive...sorta...but she's after me! Which means she's after you!"

Steve paused in his assault on the licorice and said, "No, no, she's after you which means she's after you." Stephen nodded. "She was only after us to get to you. So you're screwed."

"Last I recall, she was after all three of us. Me because she hates me, you because you're my friends," Jon said. Stephen contemplated this. "Yeah. I guess you're right. But she's gone now, Jon. That was just a nightmare. We killed her, she's gone for good this time."

Jon nodded slightly. "Yeah...it was just a nightmare. Kathie Lee's not still alive! She couldn't be!"

"Exactly," Stephen said. "Now, what do you say we go get some ice cream?"

"Ooh, ice cream! I wanna go, I wanna go!" Steve giggled, bouncing up and down on his toes. Jon and Stephen laughed and the three boys walked out the door, arms around each other's shoulders in search of an all-night ice cream shop.

Little did they know...that once they got outside, they were being watched...

A rickety camera perched atop a fire escape tracked them as they walked, and the eyes peering through it burned with fury. A gruesome, misshapen hand reached over to a cage and grasped a puppy...and swallowed it whole as the eyes raged.

By Kelly

Stephen, Jon and Steve sat at a table at the 24-hour Baskin Robbins. "So then she says to me," Stephen continues his tirade, "Give me a tip."

Steve laughs. "Well, Stephen, you should have given her a tip!"

Stephen guffaws. "Come on Steve! I was about to, but then she caught the attitude and ordered me to, so..."

Jon sighs. "Still should have given her a tip."

Stephen sits back in his chair, slapping his spoon on his banana split. "I know..." he begrudgingly says. "I just had a bad day that day... I feel my Karma will pay me back."

Jon nodded. "It will. That was a wrong thing to do."

Steve pops one of the cherries in his mouth. "Mmmm, cherries."

Stephen sighs. "I think I should go back to Tony's and tip her... I don't' know her name though."

Jon smiled, patting Stephen's back. "That would be awesome of you." He stuck his spoon in his Mint Chocolate Chip. "I just remember when I was a waiter at Bennigan's... man, I can't not tip fat.. I can't. I have to tip, I don't care if they spill wine on me, they're getting 15% at least. I don't know why."

Stephen smiled. "You're a good man, that's why."

Steve suddenly started to cry. Jon reached across the table and touched his hand. "Stevo! What's wrong?!"

Steve pointed to a baby puppy outside, tied to a fire hydrant. "I just keep imagining Kathie Lee getting her talons in that and I can't stop thinking about that now that you had to go and mention it again!"

Jon sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Well, my bad Steve! Do you think I wanted to dream about that horrible horrid wench?! No! I didn't!"

Stephen put one hand on Jon and one on Steve. "Come on fellas, back up the train. There's no reason to get mad at each other.. first of all, we didn't start this, Oh Evil Wench did, and second of all, she's been dormant for.. how long? For... three months. Maybe she's dead. And Kilborn's back in LA now. And Martha's dead.. and that at midget troupe got a gig in Scotland being in the seven dwarves production."

Steve giggled. "The same one that..."

Stephen nodded. "Yes, the same one that you did a special on."

Jon looked at him confused. "You got them a job?"

Stephen nodded. "Well, we killed all but 14 with our 'kick 'em in the fire' game, and I felt bad, and so I hooked em up with a job... plus, now we know we don't need to worry about them."

Jon sighed. "I just wish I knew what Kathie Lee was up to..."

Stephen sighed, "Look, don't worry about Kathie Lee. I've got it covered."

Jon looked at him. "Covered? How?"

Stephen shrugged. "Don't worry about it.. I have my ways..." he said, getting a fake evil tone to his voice and folding his hands together, Mr. Burns style. "It'll be eeeeeeexcellent...."

Jon and Steve, thinking he was joking, laughed... but Stephen, who knew he wasn't, congratulated himself on playing it off. He didn't want to tell them his sources, he just wanted them to forget about the whole Kathie Lee debacle and get back to their lives.

~*~*~

"Ice cream.. oh, ice cream...." said a bedraggled Kathie Lee. "I want ice cream...

"Then get it."

Kathie Lee turned to her newest partner. "Oh, Billy, would you be a doll and..."

"No! I won't. You're perfectly capable of getting your own damn ice cream..." Bill Maher countered.

"Billy, I'm confined to a wheel chair..."

"Oh, I see, you're perfectly fine to go on a puppy killing spree, but you want ice cream..." makes wild gesture with his hands. "Oh no no no, too fragile for that... I'm crying for you, I really am."

Kathie Lee growled at him. "Bill, why are you here?! You treat me like crap.. at least with Kilby, I could get past his attitude cause he was handsome, but you.. you're just a sniveling little whiner asshole!"

Bill laughed. "Okay, first of all.. " laughing, "You are CERTAINLY one to talk about looks, miss no voice box and maimed face... I'm here for one reason and one reason only.. to get Stewart. For that, and that reason only, I will put up with you."

Kathie Lee thought for a moment. "Why do you want to get Stewart?"

Bill turned so his back was facing her, fixing himself a glass of water. "Because," he hedged. "They canceled my show."

"Right, but they gave it to Kimmel, not Jon."

Bill whirled around. "Are you sticking UP for him?!"

"No, I'm just trying to decide if I can trust you, Maher."

"Look, Jon is a nice enough guy but.. he's a patsy... He cried on TV... I want his job. I want to get his job, and I've worked at Comedy Central before and we parted on good terms, and maybe if he were dead I'd get my job back... so.. I'm helpin' you out."

Kathie Lee thought for a moment. "Alright... well, what do I care why you want him dead, just so long as you help me."

Bill sighed. "Fine, I'll go get your damn ice cream."

Kathie Lee cooed. "Thank you Billy.. You're a doll..."

~*~*~

(five minutes later at Baskin Robins)

Bill walked in to the Baskin Robins and stopped short, realizing that Stephen, Steve, and Jon were still there.

"Oh shit, Bill Maher's here, Jon..." Steve said, looking down at his second ice cream dish.

Jon sighed. "Great, like I need to hear that I'm a woman again."

Stephen smiled at Bill. "Come on Jon, he wasn't insulting you."

Jon laughed sarcastically. "No no, of course not, he just singled me out and called me a woman on his show."

Stephen sighed again as he realized Bill was walking over to their table. "Look, that's just how he was raised, Jon.. To think that men don't cry.. it wasn't personal, you were just used as an example."

Bill walked up cautiously. "He.. hello Jon."

Jon looked up at him and took a deep breath. "Are you hitting on me? Seeing as how I'm a lady?"

Bill sighed and looked at Stephen, who just grimaced and nodded his head. "Alright, Jon, look, I'm sorry I called you a woman..."

Jon nodded. "On your show."

Bill nodded. "On my show.. which is now canceled by the way, how bout a little slack okay?! I'm under allot of stress right now."

Jon nodded. "Well, don't cry about it, else I might call you a woman."

Bill nodded. "Right, well.."

Jon sighed and reached out and touched Bill's arm. "Wait, Bill, I'm sorry. I'm sorry your show got canceled. You're getting the shit end of the stick on that one."

Bill smiled. "Thank you..."

Jon stood up. "But I still don't feel like talking to you. I'm angry right now and as you just saw, I'll say things I'll regret.. so I'm leaving now..."

Steve scarfed down the last bit of his ice cream and hurried to grab his backpack. "Jonny, wait, I'll come with!"

Jon and Steve exited Baskin Robin's and turned back to the offices.

Stephen nodded for Bill to sit. "Sorry about that Bill, I've been trying to get him to see your side of it."

Bill nodded, sighing. "I know, I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, it wasn't about him.. but I see how it did."

Stephen nodded. "Anything new?"

Bill growled. "Stephen, this better be worth it."

Stephen nodded. "Do you want to redeem yourself to Jon?"

"But she eats puppies Stephen!" Bill said, tears coming to his eyes. "You KNOW how I feel about animals!!!"

Stephen nodded, standing up. "I know Bill.. I just need you to tough it out for a bit, get some information about her.. I want her out of my life for good.. not to mention Jon and Steve's."

Bill nodded. "Well if she keeps it up I'm either going to have a heart attack or kill her myself so..."

"That'll work, Bill.. just don't get caught." Stephen said, picking up his cell phone.

By Sara J.

Back at The Daily Show, a phone rang.

"Daily Show," an unusually sleepy voice said, picking up the receiver.

"Mo, it's Stephen," Colbert whispered. "Do have anything yet on...hey, you're not falling asleep are you? You're not compromising the mission, are you??"

"Stephen, shut up," Mo said and shuffled up some papers. "I have fifteen confirmed camera sightings around the city, twelve of which are situated outside this very building. There has been a substantial decline in the city's puppy population since mid-summer, and someone has been playing the most grating, god-awful so-called music I've ever heard over speakers in the Daily Show halls at night."

"That's it?!"

"Stephen, we're trying our best. There's only five of us, you know."

"Five? What about the new guys?"

"We opted not to expose them to this. It's not their fight."

Stephen nodded. "Good plan, good plan. You're sure Kathie Lee won't come after them?"

"I don't see why. She has no reason, they're too new."

"Okay, Mo, if you say so. Keep me posted. And remember: Not a word to Jon or Steve!"

"Over and out," Mo replied, and they both hung up.

Back in Baskin Robins, Stephen tucked his phone into his coat. "This is a pretty crazy operation you're pulling, Colbert," Maher said. "Crazy enough to work," Stephen replied. Maher just rolled his eyes.

"You don't understand, Bill," Stephen said. "You're new to all of this. This plan is our last hope. Kathie Lee has been after Jon since last Spring. She won't give up. She has tried to kill everyone in her path, and she's hell-bent on getting rid of Jon forever."

"I know that," Maher said. "And I'm doing what I can to help. But she still doesn't trust me. There's not much information I can get out of her, she just treats me like a little errand boy."

Stephen thought a moment, then took out his phone.

"Who are you calling?" Maher asked.

"Someone who can help us," he said. "The question is...will he? It's a long shot...but he's been involved in this since the beginning and if Kathie Lee trusts anyone, I don't know why, but it's him. I don't know if he'll do it, in fact I highly doubt it, but it's worth a chance..."

Somewhere, far across the country in a city called L.A., a phone rang.

By Annie

Jon and Steve held hands and skipped down the street so that Jon would feel better. It worked.

"Hurrah!" shouted Steve, splashing through a big puddle.

"Whee!" cried Jon. Then he stopped short. "Hey ... where's Stephen?"

"I thought he was holding your hand," said Steve.

"I thought he was holding your hand," said Jon. Jon frowned. "Did he stay to talk to Bill? Stephen knows how I feel about Bill ...."

Steve laughed. "Stephen wouldn't do that to you! Relax, Jonmeister! He's a bud! Best Friends 4 Ever, remember! He has the necklace!" Steve pulled out the chain around his neck, which carried his prized token -- one-third of a broken golden coin which had engraved on it, "Best Friends 4 Ever." Jon pulled out his own one-third of the coin, and they leaned over to match up where the jagged edges fit together.

"Yeah, baby!" they hooted, and butted chests. "Best Friends 4 Ever! Best Friends 4 Ever!" They then did their special handshake, which took a good four minutes to complete, not so much because it was long, but because Jon and Steve were uncoordinated and had forgotten half the steps.

After they caught their breaths, Jon started back towards the Baskin Robbins. "I have to make sure," he said, "I have to make sure." Steve followed him, jumping into every puddle along the way. When they came back to the store, they looked into the window.

Stephen was seated with Bill Maher. Stephen appeared to be talking on his cell phone. He nodded a few times, then hung up. They talked for a few minutes, then Stephen made another phone call. After several minutes, he got up, and shook Bill's hand warmly. At that moment, a few strangers opened the door to the ice cream parlor, and Jon could clearly hear Stephen saying to Bill, "Give a warm hello to Kathie for me, okay?" The two men laughed, and Stephen slapped Bill good-naturedly on the shoulder. Jon grabbed Steve and ran around the corner as Stephen exited the store. The huddled in the shadows as Steve walked by them, still chuckling and muttering, "Give Kathie my best, hee hee."

"Oh my god," whimpered Steve. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod," Steve muttered over and over and over.

Jon couldn't speak. Not only was Stephen betraying his Best Friends 4 Ever, he was doing it with other people. Who had he been talking on the phone with? What could they have possibly discussed?

Jon's heart was broken.

By Sara J.

Once Stephen was outside, his phone rang again.

"Christ on a cracker, I just got off the phone!" he muttered, and brought it to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Stephen, Lauren. Did you talk to Kilborn? What did he say, will he help us?"

"I didn't reach him, I got Masha. She said he wasn't in yet, so I gotta call back."

"This is insane, you know that."

"Yes, I know that."

"Just checking."

"Listen, Lauren...where are you?"

"I'm over at the all-night Baskin Robbins. That World Class Chocolate is to die for!"

Stephen glanced around and upon catching a glimpse of blonde hair behind a corner of the building, hung up his phone and began walking toward it.

"Stephen? Stephen? Hello? Oh, great, I've lost contact! Stephen!"

Stephen tapped her on the shoulder, making her jump about fifty feet in the air. "Jesus!"

"Close," Stephen said. Lauren smacked him in the arm. "How did you get here so fast?" she asked.

"I've been here," he said. "Steve and Jon were here too, but they went for a walk."

"Does Mo know you called LA?" Lauren asked.

"What, I have to answer to him now?" Stephen huffed.

"Well, he is the head of operations in this little scheme of yours," Lauren said. "You said so yourself."

Stephen thought a moment. "Right...what does that make me?"

"I don't know, the mastermind?" Lauren answered.

"Mastermind...I like that."

"So does he know or what?"

Stephen shook his head. "No, I haven't called him yet."

Just then, Stephen's phone rang again.

"Colbert," he said, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Mr. Stephen," a high, meek voice on the other end addressed him, "You called a while ago?"

"Masha, yes. Is he in?"

"Yeah. Hold on just a moment, I'm going to patch you through..."

Lauren held out her hands as if to say, "What?" and Stephen held up a finger. The click of a phone being picked up was all Stephen heard before launching into his proposition.

"Hey, Kilby my man, Stephen Colbert. Remember me? Me and Jon and Steve and Kathie Lee and Martha and...never mind, I'm sure you remember, listen...Kathie Lee's back, back with a vengeance. She's after Jon again, and I know this is a long shot, but I don't have much of a choice here. We need your help. You're the only one who can infiltrate her fortress or whatever and I know that you probably don't give a rat's ass what happens to Jon or any of us, but if you'd just--"

"Sure."

Silence.

"What?"

"Sure, I'll help."

Lauren, who had huddled next to Stephen to hear the conversation, looked up at Colbert with disbelieving eyes. He shrugged.

"That's quite a change of heart, man."

Back in LA, Craig fixed his hair in a mirror while he talked. "Heart has nothing to do with it," he said. "Kathie Lee made my life a living hell, and she's gotta pay for it. Well...that and trying to kill a bunch of people."

"So...you'll really help us?" Stephen asked. "How do we know you won't turn on us?"

"You don't," Craig replied. "You'll just have to trust me. Any enemy of Kathie Lee's is a friend of mine as far as I'm concerned."

"But...you don't have any friends."

"It's a saying, Colbert. I'll help you if it means Kathie Lee's going down."

"Okay, Kilborn. But I'll give you fair warning - if you turn on us, we have ways of making your life hell, too."

"Was that a threat?"

"Yeah...sorta."

Craig rolled his eyes. "Just sign me up, okay?"

"Okay. Over and out."

Lauren crossed her arms. "I don't know about him, Stephen..."

"Neither do I. But we need all the help we can get. And after what Kathie Lee put him through, don't ask me why, but I think he can be trusted."

Lauren sighed. "If you say so, man. If you say so."

"Okay. Relay to Mo: Confirmation on Kilborn."

"You've got a phone, why can't you do it?"

"'Cause it's more secret-operationy this way."

"Al right, fine. Gotcha. Later."

"Lauren! You gotta say 'over and out'!"

"Okay, over and out, jeez!"

Stephen looked back over his shoulder. Maher had disappeared and the Baskin Robbins was desserted...uh, deserted.

Jon and Steve were nowhere to be seen. Stephen pulled out his piece of the Best Friends necklace. "I hope this works," he whispered to himself. "For Jon's sake..."

By Melly

"Shhhh, there, there. I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding." Steve said, cradling Jon like a baby and rocking him back and forth as he wept on Steve's shoulder.

"We had necklaces and everything, Steve!" Jon wailed. "Why?? Why would he do it?? I trusted him! I loved him like a brother!!"

"I don't know, Jonny. I don't know. I sense fear in him. Fear leads to hatred and hatred leads to the dark side."

"Dammit, Steve, you and your Star Wars!" Jon said. "Oh...Stephen loved sci fi. Remember when he filled out that card for me about Lord of the Rings. That was so ni-" Jon stopped talking as he choked back another batch of tears.

"There's only one thing to do, Jonny," Steve said, taking his handkerchief out of his pocket and holding it to Jon's face so he could blow his nose.

"Go home, eat till we can't breathe and then cry on our wive's shoulders?" Jon asked, blowing into Steve's hankie.

"No," Steve said, throwing the hankie on a passing pigeon. "We need help. We need to find out exactly what those three are up to so we can beat them at their own game."

Jon nodded. "Ok, but who do we ask for help? Who can we trust."

"I have an idea, Jonny," Steve said, standing up and pulling Jon to his feet. "Follow me."

~*~*~*~

"Conan Sexually Assaulted by Purple Teletubby. DAMMIT! I am TIRED of getting dorky stories in the tabloids!" Conan O'Brien shouted, pounding his fist on the table. "Ow!" he said. "That smarts."

Conan was interrupted by a banging on his apartment door. "Who can that be?" he said to himself. "At this hour, too. Hmrph, I bet it's Andy Richter, come crawling back. Or maybe that guy, Stamos! I'll get you, Staaaamos!"

Conan threw the door open, his face fixed in an expression of mock obnoxiousness. "So, Richter, we meet again. TV show failed, did it?"

"Uh...no. That show is pretty funny, actually!" a voice said. Conan opened his eyes. "Stewart! .....that guy on Stewart's show. Stan?"

"It's STEVE! Steve Carell!" Steve said, pushing his way into Conan's apartment. Jon, still in a depressed state, followed him in.

"Right," Conan said, "Well come on in, to what do I owe this extremely random visit?" Conan asked, trying to hide the manipulated picture of the purple teletubby smoking a cigarette next to him in bed.

"I explained this to Jon on the way, it's a long story, but...say is that a Jesus action figure on your coffee table?" Steve said excitedly.

"It sure is!" Conan said. "That's football Jesus, and look that kid is TACKLING Jesus! He's going straight to hell, that one."

"That's so funny!" Steve said, giggling. "And what's this? The one with Jesus in the oval office holding a cigar?"

"Ah yes, my show made that one. It's Clinton Jesus! Notice how detailed the cigar is, you can even see tobacco..."

"STEVE!" Jon shouted furiously. "Look, Conan, Consey, Connie, whatever. We came over here because we need your help. Kathie Lee Gifford has been after me for a while, she wants to kill me, and she's hired all these people to kill me, like Martha Stewart and Craig Kilborn, and now she's got Bill Maher, only he's working for my colleague, Stephen Colbert and he's trying to kill me too, and I don't know who to trust, and Steve and I are running for our lives, and so we need you to call Kathie Lee and do your Regis Philbin impression and ask her what's going on, so we know. So will you help?"

There was silence in the room as Conan stared at the two comics.

"OK, Steve. right? Steve. I think Jon here needs to be taken to a hospital and...put Jesus down, right...and he needs to be looked at..." Conan said slowly.

"No, he's telling the truth," Steve said, picking up another Jesus action figure. "Cool! Jedi Jesus! Look at the tiny light saber! But anyway, yeah, so will you call Kathie Lee and pretend to be Regis? PLEASE??"

Conan looked at the depressed Jon and Steve, who was happily playing with Jedi Jesus and making swooshing noises.

"Fine," he said. "Get me the phone. What do you want me to say? And don't tell me again what this is all about cause I don't want to know."

"Thank you, Conan!" Jon said, hugging him. "Man, are you ever pale!"

"Yes, I know," Conan said wearily. "Now, who knows Kathie Lee's phone number?"

By Kelly

"HOCKEY JESUS!!!!!!!"

Jon, who sat next to Conan on the couch, rolled his eyes. "Christ on crutches, will ya LEAVE IT ALONE STEVE!"

Steve set the figurine down. "Alright, alright... ya know, Jesus isn't wearing sandals on that one!"

Conan, who was on the phone with his Late Night booking agent, nodded. "I know! I always point that out too..."

Jon shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. "Catholics."

Conan sat up in his chair, putting the Muzaac on speaker phone til his booking agent came back from finding Kathie Lee's number. "Steve, you're Catholic?"

Steve nodded. "I am indeed."

"Let me ask you this... would it be too... blasphemous of me to make a figurine of Jesus kicking a priests ass?"

Jon cracked up at that, clapping his hands together and laughing his adorable laugh. "Oh my God!"

Conan laughed as well. "I know, it's wrong of me right?"

Steve snorted several times (cause he does that) and shook his head. "Frankly, I think God has a bigger problem with the whole, molestation thing... he might be amused by your figurine."

Conan nodded. "I think I'll keep my idea to myself.. do you have any idea how many hate mails I've gotten for them?"

Jon looked at him. "But you're making fun of the company, not God, or, Jesus rather."

Conan gave him an odd look. "You.. you watch my show?"

Jon nodded. "I've caught it."

Conan smiled. "Really...."

"Conan?" Came an exasperated voice over the phone.

"Oh! Shelly! Did you find it?" Conan said, turning his attention back to the voice on the phone.

"Yeah, C-dawg." She said, snickering.

"Stop that!" Conan said, embarrassed. "What is it?"

A few seconds later Conan was pacing the room, practicing. "HEY CONAAAN..... HOW YA DOIN' CONAAAAAN.... CONAAAAAAN......"

Jon and Steve were cracking up laughing, and Conan was as well. "Oh, geez, how am I gonna keep a straight face?!"

Jon shrugged. "By remember that my life literally depends on this?" He said, sobering.

Conan stopped pacing. "What the hell is this all about anyway?"

Jon sighed. "Apparently my saying she ate puppy dogs caused her to.. actually... eat puppies?"

Conan burst out laughing.

"Dude, seriously.... she eats puppies." Steve added, petting Conan's dog.

Conan looked at his dog, at Steve, and then at Jon. "She actually eats puppies?"

Jon's eyes teared up again. "I've seen the carcasses... she tried to eat my Shamsky!"

"Oh!" Conan sighed, sitting down next to Jon. He tapped Jon on the leg and rose his eyebrows at hi m. "Don't say a word.. no laughing, no nothing."

Conan dialed the number and cleared his throat, keeping it on speaker phone as Jon had asked him too. "CONAAAAN!"

Jon turned to Steve. "Steve, I'm scared, what if Stephen's there? I'm not ready to believe he'd betray me.. us... like that..."

Conan hit Jon as he heard the phone pick up.

"Yes?!" Croaked a garbled voice.

Conan looked crazily at Jon, who nodded and mouthed "voice box".

"KATHIE LEE, HOW ARE YA?!"

Silence.

"KATHIE LEE? KATHIE, IT'S REEGE, HOW ARE YA!"

Sobbing.

"Uh..." Conan said, slipping into his real voice. Jon smacked him upside the head. Slipping back into his Regis voice he continued. "KATHIE?!"

"Regis, is it really you? Is it really you Reege?"

Conan gave an odd look at Jon again. "YEAH, WHAT ARE YOU, INSAAAAANE?"

Jon smacked him again, and Conan shrugged.

The sobbing got louder. "Regis, my life has fallen apart.. I'm running out of puppies and..."

Conan struggled to not burst out in outrage.. he loved puppies!

"And Maher is so mean to me..."

Jon pointed at the phone. "Maher! Maher!" He mouthed.

"WHAT DO YA TALK? MAHER WHO, KATH? WHAT DO YA MEAN?"

Steve tried valiantly to not crack up laughing and had to wind up running into Conan's bathroom to laugh.

Jon on the other hand was chewing on his finger nails. Conan noticed and took his hand, squeezing it.

"He's so mean, all I asked him to do was get me some ice cream... and kill Stewart."

Jon stiffened up and Conan let go of his hand and put his arm around him, rubbing his back.

"WHAT DO YA MEAN, KILL STEWART... MARTHA?"

"No no, silly, Martha's already dead.. Kilborn killed her with his hairspray.. Jon Stewart..." Suddenly Kathie Lee stopped sobbing and her voice turned evil, which was a task considering she had a voice box and that sounds evil to begin with. 'I'll get him, I'll get Jon Stewart, I will! I'll get him!"

"HOW ARE YA GONNA DO IT? TELL ME, KATH, YOU CAN TRUST ME!"

Kathie Lee sighed. "I miss you Reege."

Conan rolled his eyes. "YEAH, MISS YA TOO.. HOW ARE YA GONNA KILL STEWART."

"I don't know... I don't have a plan."

"Uh..." Conan said, again, slipping into his voice. Slapping himself on the forehead he went back to Regis. "WELL, WHEN YA DO, YA GOTTA TELL ME!"

"Okay, Reege... what's your number?"

"Shit!" Conan mouthed, thinking quickly. "OH! I DON'T... UH.. HAVE A PHONE."

Kathie Lee sounded confused. "How are you talking to me now?"

Conan dug his fingers into his eyes. "I CALLED YOU FROM MY NEIGHBOR..."

"Oh, okay.. well, Reege, then why don't you call me and I'll keep you up to speed.. And Reege?"

"YEAH KATH?!"

"Will you have me co-host with you again one of these days? My career's dead, Reege... it's dead!" She said, sobbing again. "Jon killed my career."

"Nobody liked you." Conan said, forgetting to 1) keep his mouth shut, and 2) be Regis.

"What?" Kathie Lee asked.

"EVERYBODY LOVES YOU.. OF COURSE I'LL HAVE YOU ON! BUT NOT NOW." Conan said, covering his face, hoping she'd buy it.

Much to Conan's luck, Kathie's a twit. "Okay... thanks Reege, I love you..."

"YEAH, BYE KATH!"

"Remember our affair in the Carribean.. That was some good times Reege... and the nights.. the nights were the best... Remember when you undressed me with just your..."

Conan hurriedly hung up the phone. "EWWWWWWWWWW" He and Jon both echoed, jumping off the couch and shaking themselves.

Steve came rushing out of the bathroom. "What what?!" He said, jumping on top of the couch frightened. "Spider?! WHAT?!"

Jon sank back onto the couch and Conan looked at him. "Wow, man, I'm sorry, she really is trying to kill you."

Jon nodded. "And, it's confirmed that Maher is working for her."

Steve started to cry then. "Why?!!!" He sobbed, Jon cradling him.

Conan was confused. "Why do you care what Maher does? Didn't he call you a woman? I was angry at him about that and it wasn't even me!"

Jon was touched. "Thanks Conan."

Steve tried to calm himself down. "Why is Stephen against us Jonny? Why is he betraying us? We loved him, I thought he loved us?!"

Conan looked on strangely. "Uh... I thought you were married Jon... is it... and understanding?"

Jon sighed, standing up. "No, not THAT kind of love.. The kind of love you feel for your brothers."

Conan nodded. "Okay, cause.. I was gonna say... kinky."

Jon nodded. "But, okay... Oh god!" Jon suddenly burst out. "Steve! What are we gonna do?! If we can't trust Stephen, who can we?!!! He knows where we live!"

"Stay here of course You can stay here. My wife is out of town for three weeks.. visiting the folks in Georgia." Conan said quickly.

Jon contemplated.

"He wouldn't hurt our wives, Jon.. it's US Kathie wants."

Jon nodded, turning to face Conan. "Alright.. okay, I thank you Conan."

Conan nodded. "Sure thing... but one thing..."

Jon nodded. "Of course, we'll pay for meals and everything else."

Conan waved his hand. "I don't care about that.. will you just tell me what in Jesus H. Christ is going on here?!"

Jon, Steve, and Conan sat down and Jon began to tell his story of Woe with the Foe named Kathie Lee....

By Melly

The next day at the Studio, Jon could barely contain his fear and anger for Stephen. They were in the middle of rehearsing a simple exchange for the show that night, that called for Stephen to pull his wallet from his pants and hold it up to the camera.

"HIT THE DECK!!" Jon cried, as Stephen reached into his pocket. Stephen stared with a confused expression on his face as Jon flung himself out of the chair and onto the floor.

"Uh...Jon? Is that in the script?" Stephen asked, staring at the desk along with the camera guy and handful of writers and producers.

Stephen watched as a single, trembling hand appeared, then another, and finally Jon's head, peaking over the edge of the desk.

"Oh! I uh....must have misread the cue card!" Jon mumbled.

"Riiiight," Stephen said, polishing his glasses. "Why don't we take ten, Jon. We've got this down pretty well."

"Sure!" Jon said, getting up and making a beeline for the exit. But Stephen caught up with him. grabbing his arm before he could rush off.

"AHHHHH! Don't hurt me!!" Jon screamed.

"What is UP with you today, man?" Stephen asked. "You're so jumpy! You almost had a heart attack when the theme music came on."

"Oh, uh....nightmare?" Jon asked, more than told.

Stephen leaned against the wall and crossed his arms in front of him. "Jon! It's me! Colby! The Colb-meister! You can tell me anything! We're best friends, right? We've got a necklace and everything!"

Jon's eyes turned from a look of fear, to anger. "Yeah, sure. Look...I didn't get much sleep last night, so uh...I'm sorry if I'm jumpy."

Stephen and Jon stared at each other for a long moment. "OK, Jon." Stephen said. "But remember, I'm here for you."

Stephen could have sworn Jon gave him a sad look as he turned to go back to his office.

~*~*~*~

"Talk to the paw! Hey! TALK TO THE PAW, GIRLFRIEND!" Steve said, mimicking the stance of Garfield on the poster on Jon's wall.

"Steve? What are you doing??" Jon asked, walking in the door.

"Oh! Jon! I was uh...." Steve put his hand that he had been holding out in sassy garfield style in his pocket and laughed it off. "Nothing."

Jon sighed and sat down at his desk. "I don't know what to do, Steve. I can't work like this. I think Stephen is carrying a gun."

"Colbert is packin' heat?" Steve asked, his mouth open and eyebrows raised. "I always knew his pants were on fire!"

"We have to find out if it's true, Steve. Maybe we can confront him about it. But how do we know for sure? We can't go up to him and ask him to drop his pants."

"Yeah, cause he WOULD!" Steve said, propping himself on the edge of Jon's desk. "Remember that time I told him to bite me? Sick freak."

Jon and Steve winced, remembering that evening.

"I've got it!" Jon said. "We'll trick him into stripping! We'll invite everyone over to Conan's tonight for a game of strip poker!"

"But Jon," Steve said. "Stephen won't bring his gun if he knows it's strip poker. And why, why, WHY would a bunch of guys get together to play that?? That's going to seem a little odd."

"Right," Jon said, thinking to himself. "Well, we'll make it tonight, after the show, in the studio, and we'll invite everyone. Including Stacy, Lauren and Nancy."

"OK! I'll call Conan and tell him to come over after he tapes his show. I'll have him bring some kind of weapon, just in case."

"Great!" Jon said, getting up. "I'm going to go tell everyone! You call Connie, and tell him to bring some food too."

Later that Night

Jon, Steve, Stephen and the rest of the TDS gang were gathered 'round the desk in the studio, a pack of playing cards laying in the center of the table.

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Lauren asked, pulling her coat around her. "If I had known I'd be doing this after work, I would have worn underwear."

"Kinky!" Colbert said, smirking. "I knew you were that kind of girl, Lauren!"

"Shut up, Stephen!" Lauren said dryly. "I don't plan on losing."

"Yeah, why ARE we doing this, Jon?" Mo asked. "I'm missing NOVA, and frankly I'd rather track the orbit of the dog star than see anyone here naked."

Jon sighed and shuffled the deck. "Well...Steve and I thought it would be fun. Bonding and all. Right, Steve-o?"

"Huh?" Steve said, looking up. "Oh...yeah. Sorry, I was picturing Lauren without underwear."

"Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight, Steve?" Nancy said, kicking him under the table.

"I'm sowy..." Steve said, rubbing his shin.

"What are we waiting for anyway?" Matt asked. "Deal already, I have to pee!"

"Me too!" Stephen said, standing up. "Come on Matt, we can do that contest thing again."

"Hold it!" Jon said. "First of all, Matt and Stephen, that's gross and we don't want to know what that involves, second of all, we're waiting on our guest. So sit down."

"Who?" Stacy said, looking around. "Lewis? He said he'd be late."

"No," Jon said. "You'll know when he gets here."

"Well here I am, folks! I brought pizza too!" Conan said, walking in the room. "Jon, was that your dog in the hallway? I think it was vomiting."

"Oh great," Jon said. "Oh well, it will lick it up."

"Harsh!" Conan said, pulling up a chair. "Alright people, let's play! I wanna see some boobies tonight! Jon! Where are all the college girls you said would be here?? The lesbian ones...with big boobs..."

"What?" Stephen said, jumping up and down in his seat. "Oh now this is a party! Where are they, Jon? Come to papa!"

"Shut up! Everyone shut up!" Jon shouted. "It's just us, we're gonna play poker, get naked, eat pizza and bond, now Conan, deal the cards, dammit!"

"Weeeeell. touchy, touchy!" Conan said, taking the cards and dealing them out. "By the way, I brought a weapon..." he whispered to Steve.

"What?" Steve asked. "Mace? A club? A rifle?"

"Shhhh!" Conan said, examining his cards. "Better. Gangsta Jesus."

"WHAT?" Steve said, nearly jumping out his seat.

"Bad hand, my friend?" Stephen said, sympathetically.

"Uh...yeah!" Steve said, handing four cards to Conan. "I'll take four, Consey.....are you nuts, you brought a toy?" he said, his voice lowered.

"No! Gangsta Jesus comes with a real working mini machine gun! Don't worry, if he tries anything, I'll pop a cap in his ass faster than you can say Christ on a Cracker."

"Christ on a CRACKER!" Colbert said. "Full house! You lose, Steve! Take it off, my man!"

"It's going to be a long night," Steve sighed, taking off his jacket and exchanging a worried glance with Jon.

By Kelly

It's been three hours, and three 12-packs of Guinness, and the gang is just barely hanging in there. They were not only playing poker for clothes, but for money.. since they all had plenty. It was High Stakes Strip Poker.

Mo, the only one still fully clothed, opted to leave about an hour and a half in, and seeing as how everyone was annoyed at how he could NOT lose, they let him.

Jon had lost his tie, jacket, both shoes, both socks, and was now clad only in a wifebeater and his charcoal gray suit slacks.

Steve, by far the WORST player, was clad only in boxers.

Conan, who was pretty damn good, and also pretty damn drunk, had lost only his shirt and shoes. He was clad in jeans, and still had his socks. Why he opted to take off his shirt first before his socks eluded everyone, but Stacey seemed to have taken a liking to him. Unfortunately for her, he was married.

Stephen was by nature good at poker, what with his overwhelming ability at faux delivery, but by virtue of being drunk, not playing that swiftly. He was clad only in pants, no socks. One more loss and his pants would be off, and Jon would be able to be certain whether or not he was clean.

But did he want to know? He wasn't sure. Jon sat by the sidelines, already having folded his hand that round, his left arm hugging himself and biting his fingernails off his right hand. By all accounts, this was a fabulous evening. Lauren was her usual fake-slutty self, taking the meaning of "Strip poker" quite literally and putting on a show every time she had to take off an article. She was clad in a bra and a skirt, and Jon had to concur, Lauren was quite the looker.

But something was off, and what was off was, apparently, Jon. He just couldn't let go of his hurt. He should be having fun. Conan was, by all accounts, hilarious, and Jon was sorry he hadn't thought to hang out with Conan before. And Steve, who was by all accounts, naked, seemed to have forgotten that there was a problem.. but he was also drunk.

Nancy, who was sitting between Jon and Steve, put a hand on his shoulder. "Jon.. ya know what?"

Jon smiled at her. Boy was she toasty! "Yes, Nancy?"

She reached up and pinched his cheeks. "I adore you.. me and Steve.. we adore you.. you're adorable."

Jon smiled and laughed. "Well, I thank you."

Nancy smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "That's why we're doing this... and why we can't tell you... op..."

Jon looked at her funny. "What?"

Nancy looked at someone at the opposite end of the table, but before Jon could look whoever Nancy had looked at had stopped looking back. "Nothing Jon... well, it's a surprise.. a good one..."

Jon smiled. "Like a birthday surprise?"

Steve perked up. "Birthday! November 28th! OH! That's only four months away!"

Jon snorted. "ONLY four.. okay, that's a third of a year away, but sure Steve..."

Steve looked at Nancy. "We have to make Jon a happy birthday something."

Nancy stood, frowning. "We will... but I have to go to the bathroom, I'll be back." She flew out of hte room.

"Whew! Nancy had to piss like a racehorse huh?!" Steve said, giggling and falling on Jon.

Jon, cringing and smiling at the same time. "Steve, dude, get off.. you're nearly naked."

Steve giggled again and straightened himself.

Conan looked at his cards and began to cackle. "Wooo!!! I gots this one in the BANK!!"

Jon shook his head at Conan. "I wouldn't be so sure, Conan, you said that about three clothing items ago."

"NO!" Conan says in a slightly too loud voice as he takes a swig of his beer. He winks at Jon. "I got it! Shhh.. it's okay," He whispered.

Colbert smirked at him. "Well, my Carrot Topped friend.. what is your bet."

Conan put on just as smarmy a look and rose an eyebrow at Stephen. "You sure you wanna mess with me? You want to fold, you know that."

Colbert laughed, pushing his glasses up. "Oh, I wouldn't be so cocky, Consey Wonsey."

Conan pointed a finger at Colbert. "Don't make me dial you up, dude, cause this is NOT a number you want to be connected to!" Conan looks quickly at his pile of money and pushes the remainder into the pot. "I see your twenty, and raise it 100!"

"Conan!" Jon yells.

Stacey giggled and hooks her arm through Conans. Conan looks at her strangely. "You DO realize I'm married, don't you?" She nods. "Alright" he says, shrugging.

"Dude, are you sure, Conan?!" Jon asks, eyeing the pot.

Steve continues snickering. "YEAH! You got BALLS CONAN!"

Lauren, Stacey, Steve, and Jon all fold at the same time. All assumed Nancy folded and pushed her cards to the trash pile.

Conan nods. "Yes I do, which you will NOT be seeing... (pausing) I said that cause this is strip poker and..." He looks at Stacey and Lauren, ashamed. "I apologize for my lewdness."

Lauren, who has also folded, snorts. "Are you kidding me?!" She jerks her thumb towards Stephen. "You're Raggedy Andy compared to Colbert."

"I match you Conan." Stephen said, smirking even wider. He set down his cards, and everyone whistles. "Read them and weep, BABY!"

Conan's face registered shock. "Four Aces?!!!!!!!"

Colbert began to cackle, oblivious to Jon being near tears. "Christ on a CORNDOG AM I GOOD!!!!!!!!"

"Damn! That's hard to beat Colbert...." Conan said, though smiling slightly.

Jon, being the only one who caught that look, began to feel incredibly nervous. If Conan had that hand beat... then Stephen's pants were off and they'd finally know if Stephen was packing a gun or not. He closed his eyes and tried not to puke.

Conan threw his cards down, standing and doing a dance of victory. He stood over Colbert, laughing at him. "FIVE KINGS FIVE KINGS !!!! THAT'S YOUR ASS MY FRIEND!"

Conan looked at Jon, nodding. As Stephen took off his pants, Conan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his Gangsta Jesus. "Has anyone seen my Gangsta Jesus?" He asked, bringing attention to the figurine and not Jon.

Finally, in his hands Jon held Stephen's pants... and they were heavy....

By Sara J.

Quickly Jon handed off Stephen's pants to Lauren, more out of realizing he was holding another man's pants than out of fear of what might be in them.

"Well, I don't want 'em!" Lauren said, wadding them up in a ball and chucking them at Steve, whom was caught off-guard and hit in the face with them.

Lauren and Colbert argued back and forth over who wants who and Jon nudged Steve, whispering, "Check for...you know, stuff."

"Me? Why me?" Steve asked and heaved the pants at Conan, hitting Stacey in the process. Conan looked down at the pants hanging off his arm in place of Stacey, and back up at Jon. Jon wordlessly urged him to check for...you know, stuff.

Conan gazed drunkenly over at Jon for a moment. "Hey, man," he said, "I'm not sticking my hand down another guy's pants."

Just then, Mo reappeared, car keys in hand. "I just came back to check...on...you..."

He sorta trailed off when he took in the scene: Colbert and Lauren, half-naked and chasing each other across the studio, Steve leaning against a panic-stricken Jon, Stacey passed out in a chair, and Conan with...were those Stephen's pants on his arm?

Mo held up his hands. "I don't want to know." And turned to head back home. Suddenly Jon bolted across the studio and caught Mo by his sleeve.

"Mo, wait! You gotta do a favor for me."

Mo sighed and reluctantly followed Jon back into the room. Jon picked up Stephen's pants from Conan's arm as if they were nuclear waste and said, "We think Stephen might be...um...plotting against us? We heard him talking to Bill Maher about Kathie Lee and...would you just check to see if he's packing heat or a vial of arsenic or something? Steve and Conan won't do it."

Mo, head of operations in Colbert's little scheme, almost couldn't stop the laughter before it hit him. But he'd promised not to let on to Jon or Steve about it, and he always kept his word.

He too, picked up the offending pants as if they were prime toxic dump material and turned to Stephen and Lauren's general direction. When he caught Colbert's attention, he waved him over.

"Mo, you're back," Colbert said. "How come?"

"Stephen," Mo said, and tossed Colbert's pants at him. "What's in your pants?"

Stephen snickered. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Mo rolled his eyes. "Stop that, Stephen."

Colbert did so, and began to empty out his pockets.

By Melly

"Well, let's see," Colbert said, searching through his pants. "Just the usual. My wallet, keys, cellphone." He set the items down on the table as he pulled them out of his pants.

Jon and Steve sighed in relief.

"Some condoms, edible underwear, handcuffs..." Stephen kept going, removing more and more from his pockets. "A picture of David Hasselhoff, the Buns of Steel video, which I highly recommend and NOT for exercise...well not that kind."

"GROSS!" everyone cried, looking at the pile of junk on the table.

"What?!" Stephen said. "Not done yet, um...a thong, a jock strap and oh yeah! My dildo gun!"

"GUN?!?!" Jon and Steve cried, clutching at each other. "Conan!! Wake up! Get Jesus!"

Conan who had fallen asleep with a playing card stuck to his forehead, snapped awake and saw Colbert pointing a lengthy black SOMETHING at Jon and Steve. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion...

"Yeah! It's a bubble g-" Colbert began to say, but was interrupted by Conan's dramatic antics across the studio.

Jumping out of his seat and onto the desk, Conan drew the tiny fedora-wearing Jesus from his pocket. "Die you sonofabitch!!" he shouted, his face contorted into an expression of drunken rage.

Colbert gasped and turned to run, but he didn't get far before Conan let Jesus let him have it. "I'll see you in HELL!" Conan shouted, firing a tiny bullet towards Colbert.

"AHHHHH!" Colbert shouted, dropping to the ground. "He shot my ass! That giant carrot over there SHOT ME IN THE ASS!! Oh my beautiful hyney..."

"Colbert! Stay still, we'll call an ambulance!" Lauren said, grabbing her cell phone. "Mo! Get some ice for Stephen's ass!"

"GIVE ME THAT!" Steve yelled at Conan, grabbing Jesus off of him. "You are not fit to hold the Lord's likeness in your drunken hands!"

Conan, in a confused, drunken state, sat down on the desk and started crying.

"Cry baby!" Steve said.

"Don't cry, Conan, it's not your fault!" Jon said, patting him on the back. "You were just protecting us!"

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE?" a voice shouted. Everyone turned to see Lewis Black standing in the doorway, holding a six-pack and a bag of chips.

Lewis surveyed the scene. Everyone was half or mostly naked and obviously drunk. Empty beer cans littered the studio, the couch was covered with puke, and the table littered with various clothing items, money and playing cards. A shirtless Conan sat on the pile of clothes, crying, while a naked Steve and almost naked Jon comforted him. Matt Walsh lay under the table, passed out in a puddle of his own urine. Over in the corner, a bra and skirt clad Lauren was talking on a cell phone while holding an ice pack to Stephen's butt, who was also mostly naked. A concerned looking Mo Rocca, the only one still fully clothed, stood looking on. And watching everything was a fedora-clad Jesus holding a tiny machine gun.

Lewis stumbled backward and sat down limply in the audience seating. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow, breathing heavily. "This has got to be a dream! Wake up, Lew! Wake up!"

Suddenly Geraldo Rivera entered. "Now I will get you Jewman, my dastardly foe!" He stopped, looked around and realized his mistake. "Oops! Wrong story!"

Upon seeing this, Lewis fainted.

By Kelly

Jon and Conan exchanged an odd look from their position on the pile of clothes.

"What that?" Conan started.

"Geraldo Rivera?" Jon asked, equally bewildered.

Kelly Breaking into the story: "Sorry dudes, that was Mel's bad.. she confused herself... different story.. carry on with the crying and the shennanigans..."

Shrugging, Conan went back to crying and Jon went back to comforting him.

Lauren hung up the phone. "Stephen, they'll be here in a half hour."

"A HALF HOUR?!!! MY ASS IS ON FIRE!"

Steve began to wail, a deep, manly, at the same time girly... wail. "Why?!!!" He said, Kerrigan style. "WHY ME?!!!"

Stephen, who was experiencing intense butt pain (nurse get my sketch pad), hobbled, hand to ice to butt, over to Steve. "Stevo? Why are you crying?!" He half screamed, half asked.

Steve, blubbering like an ass, stood quickly and began to hit Stephen in the chest. "How dare you?! HOW DARE YOU?!!!"

Jon stood quickly, separating the two. "Stop it! Stop it Steve! He's not worth it!" He turned to Stephen, his eyes darkening. "You're not worth it, any of it."

Stephen, shocked and hurt, backed up, thumping down in the chair behind him.... which really hurt cause he had been shot in the ass. He stayed seated though, cause he was that shocked. "Wh... what? I'm not worth what? Why am I not worth is? What am I not worth?!"

Jon, losing his nerve, went and hugged Steve, who was back to sobbing. Conan stood up, all 6'4" of him, towering over Stephen. Stephen stood quickly and re-covered his booty with the ice. "Get away from me, you blasphemous drunk carrot head!"

Conan sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, I prematurely shot you.. but it DID look like a gun you were pointing at Jon and Steve."

Stephen grabbed his dildo gun. "IT'S A GUN THAT SHOOTS BUBBLES THAT'S SHAPED LIKE A DILDO, YOU ASS!"

Conan pointed a finger in Stephen's chest. "What are you up to? I want to know and I want to know NOW!"

The group all stared at Conan shocked. That was a might authoritative voice he'd just used. Everyone thought of Conan as an adorable goofball, but that was the tone of a man not to be messed with.

Stephen shook his head. "I don't know! I thought we were playing strip poker and drinking and having fun!" He looked around Conan to Jon and Steve, who was sucking his thumb. "Jon... what the hell is going on?!"

Conan stepped back, his hands behind his back, as Jon stepped forward. "Stephen..." Jon said, willing his emotions to stay in check. "You.. you.... YOU'RE WORKING WITH KATHIE LEE AREN'T YOU?! YOU'RE WORKING WITH HER JUST ADMIT IT!" Jon yelled at him, shocking everyone including himself.

Stephen could only shake his head. Mo stepped forward. "Jon, whatever gave you that idea?"

Jon pointed at Stephen. "Last night me and Steve saw him talking to Bill Maher and he told Maher.. which first of all, ouch about talking to Maher, you KNOW how I feel about him..."

"Jon, honestly, it wasn't even about you what he said!" Stephen interjected.

Lewis began to stir and waken.

"BAH BAH!" Jon shouted, effectively shutting Stephen up. "And I heard y ou, and Steve did too, didn't ya Steve?!"

Steve nodded, tears still streaking his face. "I did."

Nancy shook her head, agitated. "For God's sake, Steve!" She shouted, yanking his thumb out of his mouth and giving him a nu nu.

"We heard you tell Maher to give your love to Kathie." Jon finished, stepping up closer to Stephen. "How could you?!"

Stephen sighed heavily and sank into his chair.

"We have to tell them Stephen." Mo said, frowning.

Jon, wide eyed, stared at Mo. "You too?!"

"All of us.. actually." Lauren said, putting back on her jacket, dissappointed that the game was obviously over.

Jon put a hand to his heart, feeling dizzy. "All.. All...." he looked at Nancy. "Even you?"

Nancy nodded. "But you don't understand, Jon.."

Jon started to back up, dazed and confused. "You're all working with Kathie Lee?!"

"Indirectly... unbeknownst to her." Mo said.

Jon pivoted, trying to run out the room, but Lewis blocked him. "Lew?! YOU TOO?!"

"Et tu Brute?" Lewis said, cocking his head to the side. Frowning at Jon and shaking his head he smacked Jon upside the head. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

By Sara J.

"What's wrong with me?!" Jon yelled back. "I'm not the one plotting against...me."

Lewis rolled his eyes and pushed Jon backwards until his legs hit a chair and he was forced to sit down. "Steve, get over here," Lewis ordered, and Steve took the chair next to Jon. The two were quickly surrounded by the rest of the staff.

"Hold me, Jon!" Steve said, clinging to Jon.

All eyes turned to Stephen. He sighed.

"Okay. Here's what's going down. Mo and I have been keeping track of Kathie Lee ever since we last defeated her earlier this summer. We knew she wasn't done yet. We enlisted the others to help us, and they've been reporting each and every possible connection to Kathie Lee's return. We know where every one of her cameras in the city are, we know who's on our side and who's not, and we know that she's operating from somewhere in the city. The only thing we don't know is exactly where."

Jon's eyes grew wide as he listened. "But...Maher...what about him?"

"I'll field that one," Mo said. "We're monitoring Maher as he works from inside Kathie Lee's lair, but we know he's withholding information."

"If he's working on the inside, why wouldn't he tell you where the place is?" Jon asked.

"That's exactly it," Mo replied. "He says he's afraid she'll kill him if she finds out he told us, but we're not buying that excuse."

"Well...we got Conan to help us," Jon said. Conan, standing next to Lewis, fluttered his fingers in an intoxicated wave. Lewis pushed him closer to Stephen's side.

"He's a much better help when he's sober," Steve added.

"He'd better be," Stephen griped, pushing him back and reapplying the ice.

"So there's...you," Jon pointed to Mo, "Stephen, Lauren, Nancy, Matt, Lewis, me, Steve, Conan, and possibly Maher...all against Kathie Lee. Wow."

"Well...there...is another on the team..." Mo said.

"Who?" everyone but Lauren and Stephen asked, but Mo didn't have a chance to answer.

"Ah, the old studio. It really hasn't changed," said a new voice. Everyone turned toward it. "You guys need a decorator."

Mo walked over. "Ladies and gentlemen, our last team member. Mr. Craig Kilborn."

Silence. Then, everyone but Stephen at once.

"What?!"

By Annie

It took a while, but Craig, Mo, and Lewis managed to get everyone cleaned up. They sent away the ambulance when they realized that Jesus' bullet hadn't even pierced Stephen's skin. An hour later, the entire group was more sober and less naked, although many were still more stinky than Craig would have liked. The entire group sat at in the writers' room with Craig at the head of the table.

"Why is blondie at the head of the table?" Steve complained.

"Because Jon is not in a position to sit here," Craig stated coldly. "As you can see, Jon chose an alternative seat."

"He's right," murmured Lauren. The group turned to look at Jon, who was at the other end of the table directly behind Stephen, tightly pressing the tip of the dildo into Stephen's left ear and the Gansta Jesus into Stephen's right ear.

"Did you want this seat, Jon?" Craig asked.

"Screw the seat. I'm keeping my eyes, a dildo, and The Holy Son on Mr. Benedict Colbert here," Jon replied.

"Jon," Stephen whined nervously, "I keep trying to tell you --"

"SHUT UP," Jon yelled, "or you will die and have swimmer's ear for the rest of eternity! Do you like that, huh! SWIMMER'S EAR FROM A DILDO! EXPLAIN THAT TO SAINT PETER!!!"

"Somehow I don't think Peter would be that surprised," Mo said, adjusting his glasses.

"Jon, put Gansta Jesus DOWN," shouted Lewis. "We love you, we would never betray you. You could at least hear us out before you permanently deafen your Best Friend 4 Ever."

Jon wavered, sighed, then set Gansta Jesus and the dildo down on the floor. He took the empty seat beside Stephen.

Craig stood. He held up his hands. "The first thing we'll need ... guns." Racks of guns suddenly slid into the room from nowhere. Miles and miles of weapons and ammunition glimmered under the crisp flourescent lights.

Craig continued. "The next thing we need ... tight leather outfits and sunglasses without ear rests." The entire group suddenly found themselves in black patent leather clothing and sunglasses that stayed on only by pinching the nose. Lauren could barely contain her excitement when she saw how short her skirt was.

Craig smiled slightly. "The final thing we need ... is --"

"Wait a minute," Jon interrupted. "What the hell is this? Where did all this stuff come from?"

Craig looked sad. "We are not living in a real world, my friend. Our entire existence is a lie. We live inside a vast, computer-generated virtual world created by our mechanic slave drivers solely to --"

"Oh, stop toying with the man," Lewis yelled. He turned to Jon, "Regis provided the funding for the guns and the outfits." Lewis squirmed in his seat, the leather vest not quite covering the bulges around his stomach. "Reege got sick of Kathie leaving ten messages a day at his office. It had started tapering off, but he said it suddenly got worse yesterday with fifty messages claiming that he had called her. Now Reege thinks she's really crazy. I mean, more than before. He can't take it anymore."

Conan coughed.

"But flying Regises kidnaped us!" Steve shouted.

"We learned that those were just clones," Lewis said.

"Ahem," Craig said. "I believe I wasn't finished. The final thing we need ... is ...

By Sara J.

"Ooh! A secret weapon?" Steve exclaimed, hand waving in the air like an eager schoolboy.

"Yeah, sure," Craig replied. "A secret weapon."

"Hey, I thought you were our secret weapon," Lauren said, pointing across the table at Craig. "You being the only one who can gain Kathie Lee's trust and whatnot."

"Can a person be a secret weapon?" Steve asked nobody in particular.

"Enough with the damn secret weapons!" Lewis finally shut them all up. "The final thing we need is the only thing that can vanquish Kathie Lee for good..."

A moment of silence, then Lauren's voice.

"And that would be..."

"It's called a dramatic pause, Lauren," Colbert whispered to her.

"No, not that," Lauren whispered back. "I mean what's the thing we need?"

All eyes turned to Lewis, but he gave no answer.

"So it was a dramatic pause!" Stephen said.

"Not really," said Lewis. "I was just hoping one of you knew what the hell that thing could be."

Quietly, Mo stood up. "The thing we need to destroy Kathie Lee is something the complete opposite of Kathie Lee herself, i.e. the epitome of all things good and right."

Standing up and walking around the group, he went on, "Clearly none of us fits that description," he paused, his eyes lingering a moment on Kilborn, who gave him a look as if to say, "What?"

Mo continued, "So as of now our quest has become the pursuit of whatever or whoever that may be. So far we have no leads, nor do we have any ideas. So the purpose of this meeting is to discuss possible candidates."

At this point he reached his seat again, and sat down. Silence ensued as everyone absorbed this information (er...except for Steve, who was whispering "candy-dates" to himself and giggling at the literal pronunciation of the word) and Mo opened up his laptop. He looked back up at the group.

"Okay. Any suggestions?"

By Melly

"Good and just and the epitome of all that's right in the world?" Colbert asked. "No one like that exists!"

"No, wait!" Jon said, standing up and knocking his chair over. "Mister Rogers!"

The entire room full of people gasped.

"Right," Lewis said. "Well, let's just send him an email and see what he says..."

"Does he even HAVE email?" Lauren asked.

"How do you know his email?" Steve wondered.

"I am Lewis Black and I know everything! Now silence while I'm typing."

The crew listened in silence as Lewis tapped away on his computer. Mo wondered why he wasn't the one with the nifty laptop and looked disgustedly at his shabby Ti-82.

"Alright," Lewis announced. " I have Mister Rogers on instant messenger."

"What's he saying?" Jon asked.

"Look!" Lewis said, turning the computer around. Everyone gathered around to see their conversation.

CockMaster2000: Hello Neighbor

BlackMan: Hi Mister Rogers, we need your help.

CockMaster2000: It's important to help each other, neighbor.

BlackMan: Right, well have you ever heard of Kathie Lee Gifford?

CockMaster2000: Hold on, I have to put my clothes back on.

CockMaster2000: BRB

BlackMan: For Christ's sakes...

CockMaster2000: Alrighty neighbor, what can I do for you?

BlackMan: Well, it's a long story, but...

CockMaster2000: Stories are fun. I like to make believe. Do you like to make believe?

BlackMan: Uh, no...

CockMaster2000: Oh hello trolley *toot, toot*

BlackMan: What?

CockMaster2000: Let's play a game, neighbor. You'll be a young, pre pubescent boy and I'll be Mr. Mc"Feely"

BlackMan: Christ, man

CockMaster2000: Hello young neighbor. Would you like to know how babies are made?

BlackMan has left the conversation

"I think I like him!" Colbert remarked.

"Well now what?" Jon said. "There's no one else good and pure in the world!"

"The pope?" Conan asked drunkenly.

"Have you SEEN the stack of priest jokes on my desk, Coney?" Jon yelled.

Conan, still drunk, just giggled and passed out again.

"Wait! I know someone!" Steve said, narrowing his eyes.

By Melly

"BARNEY!" Steve shouted, jumping up and down and clapping his hands. "And Baby Bop!"

Nancy rolled her eyes underneath her ear rest-less sunglasses. "Steve, I explained this to you, they're not real."

"Are to!" Steve shouted, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Steve, what the hell is wrong with you, everyone knows that Barney is a gigantic, prehistoric, purple satan," Lewis said.

Steve only stuck his tongue at Lewis, who flicked him off in return.

"Ok, ok," Jon said. "It's apparent that Melly has written herself into a corner, so we're going with Mr. Rogers. Lewis, that wasn't the real Mr. Rogers you were talking to, it couldn't have been. We're just going to have to go to his house, which is in Pittsburgh"

[Note, which happens to be where I live! NYAH!]

"Come on everyone, we're going to the Steel City!" Steve said, waking the sleeping drunks up (Walsh, Conan). Road trip! YAY!"

As the crew filed out of the writer's room and downstairs to their cars, Jon pulled Stephen aside.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry I thought you were plotting against me and all..."

"That's ok my friend," Stephen said. "I can understand how it may have looked."

"I should never have doubted you. You're my best friend, Stephen. Along with Steve, we're the three musketeers!"

"On guard!" Stephen said, drawing his dildo gun. "Want to blow a few bubbles on this baby?"

"Hell, yeah!" Jon said, taking the mighty dildo in his hands. "YOU drive, I'm gonna have some fun with this!"

And so Jon put the dildo in his pocket and the two linked arms and skipped down the parking lot giggling like a couple of school girls.

Meanwhile, in Kathie Lee's Lair...

"MAHER!" Kathie Lee shouted. "Get in here!"

"I'm coming!" Bill Maher shouted, who had been practicing in the mirror for his next stint on Larry King.

"Get in here you sorry excuse for a talk show host!" Kathie Lee shouted, pressing the electronic talking device against her disfigured throat.

"I will not cry, I will not cry!" Maher said to himself. "What do you want?"

Standing next to Kathie Lee's Epyptian Land TransportationBarge was a small, disfigured midget.

"Oh hi," Maher said to the midget. "What's your name?"

The midget only stared at him.

"I call her, mini-Kathie Lee,"Kathie Lee said. "She was one of the midgets cruelly kicked into the bonfire on the beach by those three stooges, Stewart, Colbert and Carell. We were able to rescue her and after numerous skin grafts, she pulled through. However her voice box was permanently damaged so she's disfigured AND mute."

"And she's your...uh, pet?" Maher said, trying to pat the midget on the head and pulling away just before it bit him.

"No, you stupid pathetic man!" Kathie Lee snarled, pressing the "Snarl" button on her computer- aided talking device. "She's going to join Stewart on his road trip to Pittsburgh."

"How do you know he's going to Pittsburgh?" Maher asked.

"He just booked a hotel room there for himself and about ten other people. Clearly that would be his staff and that pissy little traitor, Kilborn."

"You monitor the travel websites?" Maher asked.

"Of course I do, you little pink ugly man ho!" Kathie Lee growled. "I have been watching Stewart for months now and Mini-Kathie Lee will now go where I cannot. Now I need you to give her a ride over to the studio, they're preparing to leave."

"I will not cry, I am not a woman," Maher said to himself as he took Mini-Kathie Lee and headed out to his car.

When he was at the studio, Bill Maher watched as Mini-Kathie Lee climbed into the trunk of Jon's Jeep and installed the computer software that would monitor his every move.

As Maher drove off, back to Kathie Lee's Lair, he couldn't help noticing the TDS cast, along with Kilborn and Conan all dressed in black leather and loading a van.

"Hey, is that a dildo gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Conan laughed as Jon approached him.

"shut up, Coney," Jon said. "I need you to drive one van, Lewis will drive another and me, Steve and Stephen will go in my Jeep. We should be in Pittsburgh by morning."

"Will do!" Conan agreed. "And I just happened to bring along Boy Scout Jesus, complete with a mess kit and a can of beans."

"Keep that Son of Man away from me!" Colbert shouted, running towards Jon's car.

Jon sighed. "I hope Mister Rogers will come through for us."

~*~*~

Ten Hours Later

After eight hours on the road, two pit stops and a nice breakfast at IHOP, the crew was standing on Mister Roger's doorstep on Mt. Washington in Pittsburgh. A girl named Melly, who will not be mentioned again in this story, happened to be strolling along and admired how Jon looked in his black leather ensemble.

"Alright, everyone." Jon said. "Mister Rogers is good and kind and he's also an ordained minister. So Colbert, put the dildo gun away, Conan, keep those damn Jesus statues out of sight and Lauren, pull your skirt down. And remember to compliment his fish."

Everyone took a deep breath and adjusted themselves as Jon knocked on the door. Slowly it opened and a very old Mister Rogers, complete in a cardigan sweater and blue canvas oxford shoes, stood on the other side.

Before him stood a bunch of people in black leather outfits and sunglasses with no ear rests. A few of the people looked familiar. A young man with dark hair stood sucking his thumb, while another man with dark hair and glasses tried to shove something long and black in his pocket. A very tall redheaded man stood with his arms crossed in a classic super hero pose, while the blonde man fiddled with his hair. A slightly balding man in the back stood with his legs crossed while a young lady desperately tried to pull her skirt down. The short Jewish guy in front was the first to speak.

"Hi, Mister Rogers!" he said enthusiastically. "How the crack cocaine are ya?"

Mister Rogers only stared.

Inside Jon's Jeep, the Mini-Kathie Lee began to stir...

By Sara J.

Kathie Lee's mini twin silently brought a spy camera to her eyes and began snapping away like a fashion photographer, unbeknownst to the gang.

"Jon, Steve," Mr. Rogers addressed them. Steve promptly dove behind Jon and shivered. "How did he know our names, Jon?"

Jon just rolled his eyes. "We are on TV, Steve."

"I thought Mr. Rogers only watched PBS," Lauren said.

"No, Mr. Rogers was on PBS," Mo corrected her.

"Oh. Alrighty, but I just can't see this guy watching our show," Lauren said.

"Well, he's gotta have a life outside 'the neighborhood'," Stephen jumped in.

Back in Jon's Jeep, the mini-Kathie Lee rolled her bloodshot eyes at this moronic conversation.

"Hey, shut up," Jon hissed at them. "We're on a mission, remember?"

Everyone promptly turned back to Mr. Rogers, who simply smiled.

"My friends, I see why you've decided to come here, but I'm not the one you need," he spoke to them in a slow, tailored-to-preschoolers voice. Steve began to absent-mindedly suck his thumb.

"What? What do you mean you're not the one we need?!" Stephen snapped. "There's nobody more pure and chock-full o' merry-sunshine morals and crap than you!"

"Whoa, Colby, chill," Conan said.

"Dude, you just yelled at Mr. Rogers," Jon said, turning to look at Colbert. He was only silent.

Jon turned back to the old kids' show host. "So, why aren't you the one we're looking for, Mr. Rogers?"

"Because, kid, someone far more powerful than me, you need. Someone with a bigger mouth, a bigger attitude, and a bigger budget. Someone who, since leaving a top-rated talk show, now has a lot of free time on her hands. Someone who crusades for the children...and we all know how Kathie Lee treats the children. No, it is not me, but the one they call 'The Queen of Nice' - seek her out, you must, and she will help you."

"Okay, Yoda," Kilborn remarked quietly from the back of the troupe.

"Fair traveling, my friends," Mr. Rogers called after them as they headed back, waving, to Jon's Jeep. "'Bye, Mr. Rogers!" they all called out of unison.

The mini-Kathie Lee quickly climbed out a window and hid behind a nearby crack office--er, post office box.

"The Queen of Nice?" Nancy asked. "Who could that be?"

"Simple," Mo spoke up. "A few years ago, a comic/actress from Commack, New Jersey noticed a lack of good, quality, family fun on daytime television. She was disgusted by the Jerry Springers and Ricki Lakes of the world, and decided to take it upon herself to create a daytime talk show that would be suitable for children and their parents. She named it after herself. There was no swearing, no sex, no violence--"

"No fun..." Colbert interrupted.

"And most importantly," Mo continued, "Soft little Koosh balls launched into the audience at random intervals. This visionary was Rosie O'Donnell. She became the epitome of all that was good, clean fun; thus, earning her the nickname The Queen of Nice."

The gang roundly applauded Mo's little story, and he nodded his head in thanks.

"Okay, so..." Jon turned to Kilborn. "You're a talk show host. Where do all the talk show hosts hang out?"

"Oh, it's a great little place, I'll hip you to it," Kilborn told him. "It's a wonderful, magical place in a secret location known only to talk show hosts, where there's an open bar, beautiful women around every corner, and music that just makes you wanna dance, dance, dance."

"Really?" Steve asked, bouncing around until Nancy grabbed him by his leather jacket's collar.

"No, not really," Craig said. "How the hell should I know where Rosie is? She's not even on the same network as my show. Besides, Jon, you're a talk show host, too. Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well, technically, it's not a talk show--"

"I hate to break up this little chat, but you freaks are wasting valuable time," Lewis spoke up. "Where's Rosie, Mo?"

Tapping away on his laptop, Mo replied, "She's in Florida...Orlando."

"Woohoo, we're goin' to Disneyland!" Steve yelled.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "No, we're not, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Besides, Disneyland is in California, dillweed," Lauren said. "if we're going anywhere, we're going to Disney World!"

"No, we're not!" Jon said. "We're going to find Rosie and then we're going to find Kathie Lee and end this once and for all!"

"So...I don't get my picture taken with Minnie Mouse?" Steve whined.

"No way," Nancy said. "We don't have time. Besides, I don't like the way you look at her."

Steve huffed and crossed his arms. "Fine then, be that way."

Finally, everyone piled into the Jeep and Jon turned the key. "Mo, could you open the glove compartment and see if I have a map of Florida in there somewhere?"

"Way ahead of you, Jon," Mo said, safely buckling his seat belt on the passenger's side. On his computer, he had already brought up an online map of the route to Florida.

"Take the first exit..."

"Did you say the 'first' or the 'third'?" Jon hurriedly asked.

"First." Mo looked up, just in time to see Jon speed past the first exit. "Okay, then, we'll take the long way."

And everybody jumbled up in back, with their leather squeaking against their leather, groaned.

By Annie

(I have lost track of how many vehicles there are, how many people are involved, and who is where. Therefore, everyone has now been squeezed into one large van. I think these people are in the van -- Jon, Steve, Stephen, Mo, Lewis, Nancy, Lauren, Conan, Craig, Matt, Jesus, a deformed midget, and oh, what the hell, me.)

"Hey, uh, guys?" Matt Walsh said, hesitantly, from the back of the van being driven by Conan.

"Shut up, new guy," Stephen barked.

"I just had a question," Matt tried again.

"Hel - LO!" Steve said. "I think Colby made it clear that New Guy has to shut up. Like, doo -- OOD!"

"But I just wanted to --"

"Look, New Guy," Nancy interrupted, "if you don't shut your mofo mouth, this bitch is going to ass-slap you back to the stone age.)

"Ass-slap?" Steve asked, concerned.

"Yes, Steve. It's the opposite of bitch-slap," Nancy explained.

"Oooh," everyone in the van said, much relieved.

"Fine," Matt said tiredly, adding under his breath, "I won't ask why there's a deformed midget with a scalpel between her teeth clinging to the back of the van just out of sight."

"Hey, I have a question," Jon said.

"What's your question, poopsie?" Lauren said.

"What do we do with Rosie once we find her?"

Everyone fell silent. They turned to look at Annie, the President of the JSIA, whom they had picked up in the Midwest on their way from Pittsburgh to Florida because everyone knows the Midwest is on the way.

Annie smiled. A benevolent glow beamed from her eyes.

"Oh great ... she's possessed," Conan sighed.

"Jon is dreamy," Annie said, bobbing her head around to look at Jon. "Soooo dreamy," Annie cooed lovingly. The van pulled over to the shoulder and came to a screeching halt. The side door opened, and Annie was promptly booted out into the ditch.

"Hurrah," everyone cheered as the van sped off again.

"So dreamy," muttered Annie, looking up at the sky. She frowned then, noticing a deformed midget on the rapidly disappearing van. The midget appeared to be making its way around to the driver's side and had something that gleamed wickedly in her mouth.

Annie leaped to her feet. "NOOOO!" she screamed. She lifted both arms in the air, shook her fists, and screamed, "JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNN!"

By Sara J.

The Kathie twin inched closer and closer to Jon, somehow unseen by the morons in the backseat who were arguing over which is the opposite of "bitch-slap": "ass-slap" or "jerk-slap".

Matt leaned forward and tapped Mo repeatedly on the shoulder saying, "Mo...Mo...Mo...Mo..." while Rocca tried to ignore him and focus on the map.

The Kathie twin took an Exact-o knife out of her mouth and was about to plunge it into Jon's side when an exasperated Mo twisted around and swung his laptop in the general direction of the obnoxious guy behind him, bashing the Kathie twin in the head before his computer hit Matt.

"Shut up, Matthew, for the love of all that is good in the world, shut up!" Mo yelled. He turned to face the backseat idiots.

"The opposite of bitch-slap is neither ass-slap nor jerk-slap, it's prick-slap, so all of you just shut up and stay shut until we get to Orlando!"

Everyone, including Jon, stared at him in disbelief. Mo Rocca had just yelled at everyone. After all those years of remaining the cool and collected one putting up with everybody, he finally snapped at them.

"Woah," Steve dared to utter, and was answered with the slam of a laptop against his head. Mo flipped the top up again and brought the map to Florida back up.

"Okay, now..." he looked over at Jon and jumped when he saw Jon staring back at him.

"Jon...the road...Jon...Jon!"

Mo shoved Jon's head forward, just in time for the Jeep to plow into a corn field.

"Roll up the windows, roll up the windows!" Colbert shrieked, and in everyone's haste to do so, the Kathie Lee twin was thrown from the Jeep into the ravaging leaves.

By Kelly

The car came to a stop finally, the only thing stopping it from plowing into the lake was the large oak that had stood in the way.

"Great, what IS it with big trees and me crashing the damn van into them?!" Jon yelled.

((might have something to do with midgets, but Jon and the gang, except Matt, don't know that))

"Dude." Stephen said, reaching out his arms and quieting everyone down. "Butch-slap!"

Jon rolled his eyes. "Dude! We just crashed in a friggin' corn field and you're still worried about the opposite of bitch-slap?!"

Stephen shrugged. "It just came to me."

Steve looked at Stephen. "Butch?"

Stephen nodded. "Well, Bitch is either a female dog or a.. well, a bitch, a lady who's a bitch... so, the opposite of female dog is male dog, and I can't think of a preferable slang term for male dog... SO... the opposite of Bitch is Butch!"

"Actually, using that reasoning, the opposite of Bitch is Sweet." Jon said, turning off the engine of the car.

"Well, but does Sweet-slap sound good? I'm gonna sweet slap you to tin buck two!" He yelled... suddenly he smiled. "Somehow, with my delivery, it does sound good!"

"I'm gonna sweet slap you till..." Steve started.

Stephen shook his head. "I said MY delivery."

"Right" Steve said, nodding and shutting up.

"GUYS!!!!!! SHUT UP!!!!!"

Everyone turned their startled attention to Lewis, who's nostrils were beginning to flare.

"I don't care if I have to bitch slap you, sweet slap you, butch slap you, ass slap you, prick slap you, or JERK SLAP YOU! I'll slap the snot right outta your noses, cause WE GOT A JOB TO DO HERE DOES ANYONE REMEMBER?!!!!!!!!"

"THERE WAS A DAMN MIDGET IN THIS DAMN CAR AND SHE HAD A KNIFE IN HER MOUTH AND SHE TRIED TO STAB JON IN THE SIDE BUT WE CRASHED AND SHE GOT THROWN OUT...... DAMNIT!" Matt yelled, finally seeing the opportunity to speak.

Lewis slapped Matt upside the head. "That's what I like to call my SHUT-THE-F-UP-DUMBASS slap."

Matt sunk in his seat and began to suck his thumb.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Now you've got HIM doing it Steve?!" She said, smacking Steve upside the head.

"What?!" Steve yelled, starting to suck on his thumb. "Why does it always have to go bad... why can't we just have happy fun time?!"

"ALRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!" Jon yelled, turning around and waving his arms to shut everyone up. "No yelling, NO SLAPPING, No sucking of the thumbs.. just think.. THINK!"

Mo raised his head. "I found a..."

"I said THINK!" Jon said, pointing at Mo.

Mo rolled his eyes. "Jon..."

"Bup bup! THINK!"

Mo rolled his eyes and began to type. Finally h e turned his screen around and faced it to Jon.

While you all were busy being bitches, I called a tow truck company via the internet (which was, to those who'd care to know, hooked up to my cell phone) and told them where to find us in this god forsaken field and they'll be out here in a half hour so we can get our asses out of here and get to Rosie's sometime in this millenium!
The Rocca

Jon slowly smiled. "Ya see, Mo? What did I say.. all ya had to do was think!"

Mo hung his head and buried it in his hands. "My God, I'm surrounded by unbelievable imbeciles!"

By Sara J.

Everyone was dead silent on the tow truck ride. Mo and Lewis had just about had it with these dipwads, and nobody wanted to get them mad...again.

Steve lay back in Nancy's lap, Matt sat scrunched in between Stephen and Lewis, Conan was stretched out on the Jeep's floor just behind the front seats, Craig was hanging out the window trying to get some freakin' air, Jon was counting road signs in the driver's seat, and Mo closed his laptop and yawned.

"Hey...Steve..." Matt ventured to whisper. Steve opened his eyes and looked at him. "Wouldn't 'butch-slap' be when you get smacked by a lesbian? Or is that when you smack a lesbian..."

Steve paused a moment before answering, "Hey, yeah...I bet Stephen hadn't thought of that!" Although, he said it in his normal, naturally loud voice, startling everyone and earning him glares from not only Mo and Lewis, but practically from everyone else.

"Sorry."

But before anyone could say or do anything more, the Jeep came to an abrupt halt, sending everyone in the backseat colliding into each other.

Except poor Conan, who just got kicked a lot.

"Okay, fellas, we're here - Orlando, Florida," the tow truck guy said, walking up to Jon's window.

"Hey! We're not all fellas!" Nancy protested.

"I've already unhooked ya...y'all are free as a bird, now."

"Great!" Jon said, turning the key in the ignition.

"Wait a minute there, wait a minute," the tow truck guy said. "What about taking care of my fee?"

"Dude, you just need to wear boots that aren't so constricting," Stephen said. "And pumice, use pumice."

Lewis smacked Colbert in the back of his head. "He said fee, you idiot, not feet. And just for that, you're paying it."

Stephen griped about numerous whatnot while he shelled out the cash. He handed it to Jon, who was about to hand it to the guy when he got nosy.

"Say...what were you city boys doing out in the middle of that field, anyway? And why did you need to go all the way to Florida?"

Everyone glanced at each other. Jon started the engine. "Oh, you know, bunch of city boys out for a drive, we got lost, ya know. Once we left the city, we didn't know what the hell we were doing."

"We're not all boys, you guys," Nancy said.

Once again she was ignored as the tow guy laughed, "Yeah, I suppose it's mighty confusing to someone who doesn't know the area..."

Jon grabbed the guy's hand, slapped the cash in his palm and revved the engine. "Okay, then, we gotta get...back to the city! 'Bye now!"

Everyone waved as Jon peeled out, off into the city of Orlando.

By Annie

"That was odd," said Craig.

"What was odd?" asked Conan.

"Tow Truck Guy was wearing a tight black leather outfit and sunglasses."

"Craig, we're all wearing tight black leather outfits and sunglasses."

Craig sighed, "Yes, and I love the way the leather makes my ass look tight and small, but that's not my point. It's not normal to be dressed like this, and it's not normal for a tow truck driver to be dressed like that. We've gotten so used to these outfits that we're losing our perspective."

"I love how my ass looks too," said Lauren, smiling happily.

Craig sighed and rolled his eyes at the same time. "You people aren't listening to me -- Kathie has spies everywhere -- Tow Truck Driver could be --"

"Damn straight no one listens!" screamed Matt. "If you had all let me talk, we would be back in New York by now!" Lewis punched Matt in the back of the head, Mo hit him in the forehead with his laptop, and Stephen struck him in the neck with his giant dildo. Matt passed out onto the floor.

"Hurrah," everyone cheered. High fives were exchanged all around. During the hooting and the laughing, no one noticed the tow truck closely following them until it rammed into the back of the van. The van skidded near the ditch and tipped over at a dangerous angle. Lauren, screaming, managed to pull the door open, and everybody poured out onto the grass. They stood near the damaged van, trying to catch their breaths, when the tow truck turned around and sped back.

The group screamed in unison. Just then, a huge black helicopter descended on them. A rope ladder was dropped from the hovering copter. Steve grabbed at the rope, but was unable to start climbing because one thumb was tightly inside his mouth.

"TAKE YOUR THUMB OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!" screamed Nancy.

"MMA THHOOOMDBP GMIIBBMMPHH!" screamed Steve.

Jon, roaring with frustration, grabbed Stephen's dildo and yanked Steve's thumb out of his mouth. He jammed the dildo into Steve's mouth and kicked him in the shin. Steve, now with both hands free, started climbing the rope. The rest of the group followed him up. The tow truck driver leaped out of the truck wielding a giant chainsaw. The last person on the ladder was Kilborn, who had stopped to carefully spray down his mild cowlick. As he climbed up the ladder, the helicopter abruptly started rising, and Craig lost his grip. He nearly fell, but his ankles caught in the rope and Craig dangled helplessly upside down.

Tow Truck Driver made a flying leap at Craig with his buzzing chainsaw. Craig closed his eyes as he saw the evil machine flying towards his head. When the chainsaw made contact, he screamed as if a thousand firebrands were being thrust into his stomach.

"MY HAIR!" he screamed. "MY BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL HAIR!"

The helicopter flew away from the enraged chainsaw-toting truck driver into the sunny Florida sky. Everyone pulled themselves into the helicopter, then pulled up the ladder with Craig on it. Craig fell to the floor weeping. His hair was a perfect flat top cut. There was even a little bald spot in the middle where the chainsaw had gotten particularly close.

"Close call!" yelled the pilot over the copter noise. The group looked up at their savior, their hero, their god. To their utter astonishment, it was ...

By Kelly

Jon's mouth dropped wide open and worked a couple of times before he could say anything. "Rock?!"

"Chris Rock?! What the fu..."

"I know, can ya believe they gave this nigga a plane?!" Chris said, laughing.

"Actually it's a helicopter." Mo corrected, affixing his glasses and sitting on the plush mahogany couch located by the wet bar.

"It's a plane to me bitch, now shuddup!" Chris said, moving the gears around.

"They gave that nigga a plane?" Stephen wondered quietly.

"HEY!" Chris shouted, turning in his seat. "I can say nigga, you can't.. ya damn cracka!"

Jon squatted beside Chris, an amazed, bemused smile on his face. "Rock, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass, fool!" Chris said, laughing and hitting Jon on the back.

"OH! OLIVES!" Steve said, taking the dildo out of his mouth and replacing it with an olive.

Jon sighed and sat in the faux fur seat cover on the passenger's side of the helicopter. "No, I mean, what are you DOING HERE?!"

Chris laughed his adorable giggle (he has an adorable giggle) and grinned at his friend from the comedy circuit. "You just don't know do you?"

Jon frowned, facing forward and propping his feet up on the dashboard. "Why is this my life?"

Chris sighed and tapped Jon on the leg, pointing to his cellphone. "Why didn't you call me man? You're my boy, why didn't you let me know you needed help?"

"Cause, frankly, I didn't exactly think you could HELP!" Jon shouted, laughing.

"Why not?! I'd do anything for my guy!"

Jon shrugged. "Cause you're off, ya know, making $20 million a movie..."

Chris shook his head. "Well, whatever, I don't care.. at least Maher had the sense to call me."

"Maher?" Jon said, looking back at Stephen, who was helping himself to a Colt 45 Malt Liquor.

"Damn! Nasty!" Stephen yelled, spewing it all over Kilborn's newly shorn hair.

"Ow!!! STINGS!!!!!!!!!" Kilborn yelled.

"Shut up fruit!" Chris yelled at Kilborn. He looked back at Jon. "Yeah, Bill Maher."

"I TOLD you he was on our side, you ass!" Lewis said, laying down on the shag carpet, resting his head on the ottoman.

Jon looked around. "Dude, Rock, this is a pimpin' helicopter."

Chris nodded, laughing. "Yeah, I went overboard... I thought I'd just gaud it up.. just make it ghettoed out... ya know... make it so when the next white man got on this thing he'd have an aneurism."

Stephen came over to the two and handed Jon a Bud Light, which Jon took gratefully. "Really, Chris? I think it's pretty fly."

"Really?" Chris said mockingly. "You think it's fly? You're on crack. Sit'cho ass down, cracka!"

Stephen turned reluctantly and plopped down next to Conan on the green plush couch across from the mahogany one. Lauren and Nancy were sitting behind the wet bar pretending to be 'bar maids' and Mo was sitting in the corner of the mahogany couch calculating how much time it would take for the helicopter to run out of gas at 25 degrees latitude... just for kicks.

Kilborn, it was believed, was in the bathroom, sobbing over his formerly cute coiffe, now shorn like Edward Scissorhands had had a hand in it but hadn't had time to finish it off.

Steve bounded over to Chris and Jon. "Hey, Chris, can I play with your slinky?"

"What?!" Chris said, giving Steve a crazy look.

Jon laughed, pointing at the slinky in Steve's hands. "An actual Slinky man, not a euphamism."

"Oh, cause I thought..." Chris started. "Yeah, yeah, sure..." He said, looking at the slinky in Steve's left hand. When Steve left, Chris turned to Jon with a really odd look on his face.

Jon nodded. "I know, he's like a kid."

Chris shook his head. "Jon, my friend.. was that a friggin' DILDO in his hand?!"

Jon began to laugh, and soon they turned into full fledged giggles and all the stress that had been building up over the past few days seemed to eek away. "God Chris, I needed that." He said finally, wiping the tears away.

Chris made a 'ain't she a cute baby' face and pinched Jon's cheek. "Rock'll always make ya laugh!"

Lewis sat up with a start. "Alright! Enough idle chit chat! Let's get this circus freak show on the road!.. er.. Air!"

Chris laughed. "Alright... where to, Jon?"

By Sara J.

"We're headed to Rosie O'Donnell's place...wherever that is..." Jon said.

"Oh, Rosie's? I can get ya to Rosie's," Chris said. "She might not be too happy 'bout a damn helicopter landin' in her front yard, but I can get ya to Rosie's."

"You know Rosie O'Donnell?" Stephen asked.

"Yes, I know Rosie, now go sitcha cracka-ass down, ya cracka-ass cracka!"

"Chris, what the fuuuuuuuuudge is going on out here?" a curious voice asked.

"Girl, quit bein' all secretive and getcha ass out here," Rock said. "They don't know who the hell you are, anyway."

Out from behind...hell, I don't know, something...stepped a short brunette girl by the name...of Sara J. (Hey, shut up, Annie threw herself in, too.)

"Don't worry, I'm not sticking around," Sara said to no one in particular. She went around introducing herself and all, but stopped short when she looked up...way up...into the saddest pair of blue eyes she'd ever seen. Then she noticed the reason why.

"Oh, honey," she said, taking Kilborn's hand, but giggling in spite of herself.

"You know...you might wanna do something about that hair," she said, Elaine-on-Seinfeld-style.

"Dude," Jon said. "I hate to be the one to say it, but you look like you got in a fight with a chainsaw."

"Yeah!" Colbert chimed in. "And the chainsaw won!"

"I saw what happened, and I wouldn't call it a fight," Mo said, nudging his glasses up. "More of a hit and run."

"Or a cut and run!" Lauren snorted.

The rest of the gang couldn't help laughing, even Sara J. (who likes Kilborn) and Rock, and they weren't even part of this motley troupe.

Out of nowhere, Sara J. whipped out a pair of scissors and Jon, only seeing the glint of the metal from the corner of his eye, dove for the floor and shrieked, "Hit the dirt!"

Lewis kicked him.

"Hold still," Sara told Craig. "My mom's a stylist, I think I can fix this."

"Woah, hold on," Kilborn said, holding Sara's hands back. "That's your mom, not you. What do you do?"

"I'm a waitress. It sucks."

"I hear ya, sister," Jon said, sitting up.

Everyone gave him a strange look.

"What? I was a busboy, you guys know that!"

Sara shook her head and looked back to Kilborn. "Look, whatever I do, it can't be any worse than what you have now. But it'll probably take a while, and you're so damn tall I'm gonna need you to sit down and you'll be forced to have me on your lap. So just shut up, hold still, and get ready to suffer."

Kilby did what he was told, dammit, and Sara hopped up on his lap facing him, snipping away at his hair and pausing every few snips to run her fingers through it.

"If that's suffering, sign me up," Colbert said under his breath, adding that porno-music pulse of his.

Lewis kicked him.

After forty-five minutes of snipping and thinking (and Rock yelling, "Damn, girl, how long does it take to cut a cracka's hair?"), she cut one last snip, and was finished.

"Viola!" she said, pronouncing it "vy-ola." It took some work, but luckily for him (or is that for her, seeing as how she likes it so much?), it all evened out to a short, semi-spikish kinda thang.

"Now, it'll look better once you gel it and spike it out a little, but I don't have anything with me, so you'll just have to deal with it," she told Craig, ruffling his hair to shake all the excess snips from it. Well...that, and it was just fun. He shook his head like a kitten who'd just been sprayed with the water bottle and attempted to flatten it out a little.

"Stop that," Sara J. said, ruffling it back up again.

"You wouldn't happen to have a mirror, would you?" he asked.

"Nope. Trust me, it's fine."

Pause.

"Uh...Sara...J.? Miss J.," Jon said. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but...where the hell did you come from?! And how do you know Rock?"

She stood up (okay, so she sorta slid off, then up) and smiled at him. "I came from a magical, yet dangerous place where no one has ever come out the same. And I don't know Chris. I don't even know you, and you don't know me. This world is not your own, Jon. But you're fighting the good fight. Don't give up."

With that, she bid goodbye to the travelers, and vanished into thin air.

"Well, that was odd," Mo remarked.

"You mean to tell me she only showed up to fix Kilborn's hair?!" Matt said.

Lewis kicked him.

"Hey!" Steve said, his nose pressed up against a window. "Is that Rosie's house?"

Lewis kicked him.

"Ow, what was that for?" Steve asked.

Lewis shrugged. "Just making the rounds."

Everyone crowded into the window and Rock said, "I told you crackas I'd getcha to Rosie's! Now sitcha asses down. Rosie took out the runway and turned it into a damn merry-go-round, so it's gonna be a bumpy landing."

(sidenote: I would apologize for this narcissistic and fully self-indulgent post, but that hair thing was irritating the hell out of me. Somebody had to fix it. And since I'm the only one willing to get as close to him as one must get in order to do so, it might as well be me.)

By Kelly

"OW!" Sara J. said as she fell on the floor with a boom.

Melly giggled and poked her in the ribs. "I told you it'd hurt upon re-entry!"

Sara J. rubbed her bum. "Why am I back so soon! I was just about to go talk to Jon when I heard Annie warning me that I had to wrap it up, I was coming back in five seconds."

Annie walked into the room, carrying a big bag of popcorn. She threw a kernel at Sara J. "Cause, I'm in charge here, I say when and how soon you come back... Is it my fault you wasted all your time fixing your precious Kilborn's hair?!"

Sara plopped on the couch next to Melly. "Still.. I wasn't done."

Kelly chewed on her bottom lip. "Annie, where did you find this portal?"

Annie sat on the chair. "I don't know I'd call it a portal per se..."

"Portal, Black Hole, Time Warp, Tear in the Universe... whatever... the whatever that lets us barge into their lives that we've created for our own amusement and live it out with them."

Annie shrugged. "Well, I don't know... I picked door number two... I think number one was John Malkovich, and I already saw that movie."

Sara looked at Kelly. "Have you decided if you're going to barge in on them?"

Kelly shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I haven't decided. I guess I'll decide when the time comes."

Annie nodded. "It's fun... I just wish I'd known what was coming when I stumbled upon it... I mean, all I did was gaze at them, and then finally they kicked me out and I was able to return to some sense of normalcy... and then that damn midget..."

"Small person." Kelly corrected, smirking at Annie.

Annie nodded. "That damn small person, with the knife... " She shudders.

Melly began to giggle. "I prefer Midget."

Annie sighed, passing the bowl of popcorn (more like bowl of pot considering how royally weird this story has gotten) to Sara J. who was still bemoaning her sore butt. "Guys, did you change the channel?"

Melly looked at the TV, seeing the Smurfs and not the gang in Chris Rock's plane which was about to land at Rosie's. "Damn!" Melly said, grabbing the remote control. "Sara J! Your ass changed the channel!!!!!"

Kelly collapsed into a fit of giggles.

By Sara J

... CRASHsmashBANGbonkboinkSCREECH dustflyingeverywhere BONGboingSPROING...

Rock and the gang slowly climbed out of the helicopter/merry-go-round wreckage only to face up to an angry Rosie O'Donnell, arms crossed and tapping her foot.

"For crying out loud, Chris, that's the third merry-go-round this month!" she told him.

"Well, damn, woman!" Chris replied, dusting himself off. "Can I help it if I'm used to landing in the same spot? Build ya damn merry-go-round 'round back next time!"

"Chris, watch the swearing, 'kay? There are kids around here."

"Okay, all right, okay."

It was then that Rosie looked beyond Chris to see the mis-matched and bedraggled troupe behind him.

"Jon?" she ventured. "Jon Stewart, is that you?"

"Hi, Rosie," Jon said, stepping toward her. Instinctively, she reached out to hug him. "Okay, hugs," Jon said, smiling.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Wait...first of all, how do you know Chris Rock?" Stephen piped up.

"He doesn't like to admit it, but he comes around a few times a month to help out with the kids," Rosie said, poking Chris in the shoulder. "He's a real big softie."

"I am not!" Chris protested. "Girl, have you seen my stand-up?"

Rosie giggled. "For the umpteenth time, yes I have!"

She turned back to Jon. "So, what brings you boys here?"

"We're not all boys!" Nancy yelled, holding up her and Lauren's hand.

"Okay, then," Rosie said, "What brings you guys here?"

"That's better," Nancy said.

Pause.

"Wait..."

"It's Kathie Lee, Rosie. She's after me...us...again," Jon explained. "You know the story, right? Didn't I tell you last time you were in New York a few months ago?"

"Yeah, you told me...hmm. So...how can I help?"

"Well...you're all for the children, and we all know how Kathie Lee treats children..."

"Not half as bad as she treats puppies," Steve sniffed. Colbert put an arm around him.

"And we know that when someone pi--uh, sparks your temper, they're no match for you. You gotta help us, Rosie. For us, and for those poor little kids. And puppies. Mr. Rogers told us you could help us."

"Fred told you that?" Rosie laughed. "Well...I'd help, but I don't know if I can find a sitter..."

All eyes turned to Rock.

"All right, all right! Rosie, I'll watch the dang kids."

"Dang?" Stephen repeated.

Rosie pointed to a sign not far from the demolished merry-go-round: No *Bleep*ing Swearing!

"Ah. Gotcha," Stephen said.

"So you'll help us, Rosie?" Jon asked. She looked around at everyone, then nodded.

"Okay. I'll help ya. But you're going to have to fill me in on what I've missed so far. Wouldn't want to go in empty-headed."

So Rosie and the gang headed inside to hash out the details while Chris (happily, but don't tell him I said that) watched the kids as they played tag.

"Hey! Ya dang kids, don't be climbin' over that merry-go-round, you'll hurt yourselves and I'll have to pay your dang medical bills! Hey!"

 

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