The cameras cut to the backstage area as the duo of Cancer Jiles and “Beautiful” Bobby Dean appear. The two Bandits in crime are walking down a long hallway, the larger of the two trailing behind as he’s bogged down with an impressive array of suitcases, duffle bags, and for some odd reason he’s dragging a large six foot tall vanity mirror in his wake. Jiles, wearing street clothes, and without a thing in either hand is talking to his cohort.
Cancer Jiles: This is important Bobbo, I hope you’ve been writing all this down.
Bob has not. Nor will he start. His hands are full. DUH.
Cancer Jiles: Better to just go over it again. Big night, and I want to be sure. From the top.
The Crown Prince of COOL clears his throat, as if to leave no confusion.
Cancer Jiles: Stone wash my tights. Use that soap I like. Not the Mickey Mouse, MGM Grand shit, either. I want the good stuff. Whatever you used the last time caused some serious chafing. Could have been Muriel, too. Ha, such a skank.
Bobby Dean: (to himself) I’m supposed to be using soap?
Cancer Jiles: Next, polish my T-Shades. Make sure to wear the protective mittens– I don’t want you getting any fingerprints or Cheeto dust on them.
Jiles happens to stop, swiftly turning around, causing Bobby to bump into him as he’s unable to slow his momentum without warning, or an appropriate length of runway. Taking a step back, Bobby is dripping sweat as he watches Cancer remove his current pair of T-Shades, but as the first pair come off, a second pair somehow miraculously appears on his face. Gently resting his prized shades in their carrier, he then reaches out and with tentative hands he adjusts the underboob of his massive friend and quickly inserts the carrier before letting the flap of skin fall back in place.
Cancer Jiles: There, now you can’t claim to lose them.
The COOL smiles. Bob does not. Instead, the look on Bob’s face is as if he is gazing into the soul of a doll, and the doctor just asked him to point where Cancer touches him.
Cancer Jiles: What else? Oh. Right. Don’t forget about cocaine, and don’t be sneaking bites, either. I know it’s hard, but still. That is for our friend, not you. He needs his vitamins. The lights are going to be bright out there tonight. He’ll need his fill if he’s going to make the trip.
Bob sighs. He likes the powder. Sugar that is.
Cancer Jiles: Lastly, don’t forget that thing. You know, for the ghost problem? Other than that, we should be good to go!
The Maestro flashes a thumbs up.
Cancer Jiles: Now spit it all back to me so I know you got all of it.
Bobby Dean: Wash my balls with fancy herbal soap, twice. Go get a Polish T in the shade. Remember to wear my mittens. Don’t snort cocaine. And, just because all the Bandits are counting on you, I’m going to book a hair appointment for myself to celebrate your victory. That’s how confident I am in you.
He looks at Cancer with a proud smile while tapping the side of his head.
Bobby Dean: Next, take care of Cocaine…. CHECK!
Bobby offers up a *wink wink* of his own, but it’s blatant and not the least bit sly.
Cancer’s nostrils flare. Probably not a coincidence.
Bobby Dean: Last but not least, a bucket of deer piss. Why do you need that again?
Cancer Jiles: It’s for Dooze, I can’t ever see him coming, this way I’ll at least be able to smell him when he’s around.
Bobby Dean: Does it have to be deer? I’ve got a sheet back in the hotel room, it’s stained and musky, you can throw that over him?
Doozer: Guys, I’m standing right here…
Cancer practically leaps out of his shoes, as Bobby immediately holds his chest. It takes a moment but Bobby is able to get his breathing back to normal, as Cancer looks over at the old man, with his arms crossed angrily over his chest.
Cancer Jiles: Haven’t we discussed you not scaring poor Bobby like that?
Doozer: Me!? Scare Bobby? I’ve been here the entire time!
Cancer Jiles: Listen, grab the goods from Bobbo there, he’s got a lot to do before my match later.
Doozer: You sure you picked the right guy to handle all those chores?
Bobby looks offended as he audibly scoffs.
Bobby Dean: How dare you, sir!
Doozer rolls his baby blue eyes and reaches out, grabbing the suitcases while shaking his head. Anticipating a heavy load, his eyes go wide as he suddenly realizes the suitcases are empty, and the duffle bags appear to be full of toilet paper and eggs. Muttering curses to himself, Doozer grabs everything and follows Cancer Jiles down the hall, the two men leaving the overwhelmed large man behind.
MY MILKSHAKES BRING ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD.
“Milkshakes” by Kelis can be heard playing throughout the halls, as a familiar looking forklift pulls up. King Blueberry behind the wheel, smiles down to the big man, toffing the imaginary cap in Bobby’s direction.
King Blueberry: What’s cookin’ good lookin’?
Bobby takes a moment to admire the ride, before looking up and smiling at Blueberry. An inspiration strikes, as his face lights up.
Bobby Dean: Hey, do you happen to know if Lindsay Troy is Polish?
King Blueberry: She might be? How about you climb aboard, and let’s go find out?
Bobby climbs aboard, scampering up to the roof like a spider monkey. But once in place, he reaches down under his massive mammaries and pulls out a familiar custom made wood box, emblazoned with a “CCJ” along the front. With a deft flick of the wrist, the box is opened and a yet to be polished pair of T-Shades in placed on the bridge of his nose.
Bobby Dean: Onward my Blueberry friend!
LA LA, LA LA, LA
THE BOYS ARE WAITING
LA LA, LA LA, LA