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B17 is rudely interrupted


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B17: Look, I’m not saying my cameo in Hell Razors 4 was Oscar worthy, but I mean how many more people showed up just to see me? Personally, I count this as one of my highest grossing films of all time...I just really nailed the part, you know?


Ty continued to nod his head and smile: Yep. Nailed it.


B17: Be sure to really work the oils into the sole of my feet, very tense there lately.


Ty’s hands busied themselves massaging B17’s feet.

B17: Beautiful out here isn’t it?


He looked around at the private pool of The Mandalay Bay. An entire section had been reserved for him. Not long ago he had directed Ty to send The B Community away so that he could enjoy the shade of the palm trees in silence.

B17: My agent said I should send it in as an audition for Winchester. I got a real good chance of playing Dean. Don’t you think.


Ty: No one could play him better.




PA System: Just a reminder that our Selena Gomez concert is scheduled for tonight and we will be closing down our VIP area during set up in 10 minutes.


B17 exhaled dramatically

B17: That is the fifth time they have made an announcement about closing down. Go fix it. I’m not leaving! My relaxation is much more important and I need at least 15 more minutes, you tell them, Ty!


Ty: I, um….


B17: Don’t give me excuses give me results!


Ty scurried away.

B17 leaned back and folded his hands behind his head.

Crackling voice through the PA: This thing on? Yeah. Bingo! What do the numbers mean?


B17 whipped his glasses off and sat bolt upright.

B17: Who’s there!


PA: The numbers, Bingo! We are out of time. What do they mean?


B17: They mean nothing!


B17 now stood and began to shout at the small box connected to the tree above him.

B17: Nothing!


PA: 7...8...1...1. K that one didn’t work. 2...3...2...5...3....2.


A second voice crackled into life from another box located near the pool.

PA 2: Try going to 19.


PA: 7...3...4...1...2...2...1.


B17: Stop it! Get out of my head!


PA: Oh shit, we’re getting closer.


PA 2: 7...3...4...2...3?


B17 stopped shouting immediately. He turned slowly to the distraught crowd huddled by the bar. He smiled at them and the tvs began to flicker.

B17: Ohhhh ohhhh death ...ohhh ohhh.




PA: FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! 3...2...ummm


B17 began to walk slowly towards the crowd with his arms raised: Wooooh death.


PA2: IT WAS 4! A 4!


PA: 3...2...4...3...7!


Ty: Um...Mr. Bingo, are you ok?


B17: What the hell is going on?

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"Amatuer cheat hunter, Resident OCWFED historian, Lover of spreadsheets, data and HOI, MASTER OF THE GOKART"




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