Well, it looks as if my Reality TV dreams have gone up in smoke. The Hollywood Producer that contacted me to star in a Reality TV Show, called me last night to work out some of the details. The producer quickly agreed to all my requests; however, I swear I heard a chuckle out of him when I asked for my endless supply of fresh Odor Eaters. Then he threw a cash figure at me, I’m not going to say how much he offered, but I could have bought my own trailer park with the first check alone..
Next, the producer asked me to give him my bank account numbers so that he could set up a direct deposit for my payments. Of course, me being still excited over the huge salary and my new Odor Eaters, I willingly gave him all my banking information. Then, he said that he’d be sending out a camera crew next week and we could get rolling.
“WoooooooooooHooooooooooo!” I screamed as I jumped around the trailer.
Thinking that I wanted to make a good impression on my camera crew when they got here, I ran over to Mrs. Pritts’s trailer (the Madam of the Bottoms Up Club) and inquired about some coupons. I thought that an evening of booze and wild women would be a great way to bond with my new camera crew.
Mrs. Pritts laughed at me when I told her that I was going to be on TV and there would be a camera crew following me around the trailer park. She then quickly “gave” me a dozen free admission coupons. She said that I could have the coupons for free as long as I agreed to mention her club on TV.
That’s when it hit me: My perks of being a celebrity could outweigh my perks of being a Mayor many times over, and there was a possibility that I could possibly have women flocking over me once my show gets up and running. Hell, there might even be a Tom Lund Fan Club!
Later that afternoon, I went down at the local bar, all of the guys were buying me drinks as I was bragging about my new career in spotlights. Then my cell phone rang, it was a girl from down at the bank, she informed me that my whole life’s savings of $238.63 was withdrawn via an electronic bank transfer. When I asked her where it went, she said to some production company in Hollywood.
The guys in the bar told me that I sat there on my phone speechless and in a daze for about 10 minutes until the bartender hit me in the face with a shot of soda water. They wanted to know what the problem was. Not wanting to show my stupidity, I said that that was one of my ex-wive’s lawyers on the phone and the bloodsucker already heard about my new fame and wanted me to hand over more money already.
Later that evening, I was sitting at home thinking about how stupid it was for me to give anyone my banking info when a bigger problem popped into my mind. I had already used half of Mrs. Pritts’s coupons, and how was I going to explain that? And I had heard that she’s the kind of a madam that has people’s legs broken. She is certainly someone I don’t want to cross. Maybe I could tell her that my show is currently only being shown in Bolivia. Hell’s she’s like 80 years old — she might buy that.