C'mon Get Bitchy!

(the scene: LCM is in the corner booth waiting for Princess to show up for mid-morning cocktails, when the waiter approaches with a note)

LCM: (glancing up, glaring) Don't tell me that witch called and cancelled on me, sweetie - she's got her wallet so I'm completely penniless. (waiter hands note) Oh. Another note, sweetie? How olden day.

(LCM pats wig, nurses last night's final cocktail and reads the note)

My Stalker: I'll always know where you are, thief of my heart and loins (well, groin)! We are destined to be together forever in that "It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again" way. I'm slightly miffed though, that you haven't guessed who I am yet. I mean, how many people know you as well as I do? How many know the deep, dark secret that you were the second replacement Chris on the Partridge Family until that little "accident" with the bus? I mean, Danny Bonaduce still wakes up screaming your name - and I know this for a fact because I keep duct-taping his mouth shut.Loving you madly, desparately, and madly some more,YHOS

LCM: (shifty-eyed) Chris on the Partridge Family? Oh now really, I've heard everything. (eyes-darting, hiding note, as memory takes us back to the spring of 1973...)

LCM: (pre-teenly, walking up to Shirley Jones) Shirley, darling - I've read next week's script and I'm completely outraged! (glaring) Not only do we all get sprayed by a skunk for the third time this season, that slut Laurie gets LEG braces for her previously undiagnosed polio, only this time she's picking up radio transmissions from outer space! (patting pre-teen wig) And from *this* hilarity is supposed to ensue?! (throwing script into nearby garbage) My only bloody line is "Hi Mom!" (lighting glamorous du Maurier and exhaling with anger) Those god damned writers are out to get me, darling - I absolutely demand a tantrum be written in - I haven't got *anything* for my Emmy tape so far this year, and if that swishy bitch Bobby Brady wins over me again, I swear I'll open a vein. (pouring cocktail, turning, brow arched) The show is sinking, sweetie - we're being beaten by Mary Bloody Tyler Moore - literally and figuratively - she cut off my driver at the studio gate, staggered slash fell out of her car out and began throwing empty whiskey bottles at my head! (lips pursed) As the studio's top child star, I really don't think I should have to put up with it. (taking Shirley's chair and drinking) And look what they're doing with your character, sweetie - when was the last time you had a date? Hmmm? And Rubin certainly doesn't count - I mean, he can barely walk - his new boyfriend is hugely endowed, I'm told. (glancing towards the stage) Oh god - it's Linda Blair. (shouting) THIRTEEN MY ASS! HAVE ANOTHER SNORT, SWEETIE - EVEN MATCH GAME WON'T TAKE YOU!!! (patting pre-teen wig, turning to Shirley) Right, that's it - I'm calling Lee Majors. (picking up old timey phone and dialing in that rotary sort of way) Good lord - they can put a man on the moon but they can't save me from ring around the dialing finger. (pausing, hearing it ring) Hello? Lee? (sipping cocktail) Listen, sweetie, it's LCM - I'm ready to ditch this gig - I want to be the Bionic Boy. Hmmm? What do you mean I'm too old? You're nearly 50 - and that tramp wife of yours is a no-talent slag! Bugger off! (slamming phone down, turning to Shirley, noticing she's slumped over from tranquilizers) Oh gawd. (rifling through her purse and taking things) Well I might as well grab what I can before we're canned. (grabbing cocktail, waltzing towards the exit, pausing, speaking to no one in particular) If anybody wants me, darlings, I'm joining the Jackson Five - I'm quite certain they'll be a good influence on me.

Storming Off, Looking Great
{{{{{LCM}}}}}
Centre of the Known Universe