FIC: The Gratuitous Dwanollah 90210 Episodes

Part III


Consistency shmonsistency. Let the Gratuitous Dwanollah Season continue!

It’s vacation, and I’m jumping back in the saddle, to use a Stevie-ish phrase. And, as usual, although not to discount the talent of other Boardsters who’ve contributed in the past months, I am too self-centered and controlling to alter the notes and bits and stuff that I wrote back in August to align with the later developments in this topic. Moreover, I have completely discounted any of This Season’s plot developments. No, I am forcing everyone to exist on the Dwanollah Plot Plane and not apply previous plot developments of any kind to My Episodes. Hence...

This episode is dedicated to the memory of Jason Priestley and his Beastly last season.

RECAPS (all the way back to, like, August or something):

Brinda, close to the popping point with Dylan’s bastard child, has entered a custody battle with Kelly and Brandon, who plan to marry and complete their union with a ready-made child. Instant family!

Dylan, our own little Renaissance Man, upon discovering that Tony Marchette is his real father, has decided to try to forge a meaningful relationship with him in hopes of finally healing his Inner Pain and Emptiness that has haunted him since childhood, driving him to drink, drugs, casual sex, extreme sports and other ultimately-unfulfilling pursuits. He also, for reasons yet unknown, wants nothing to do with Brinda or their child. He’s still skulking in Mexico at Marchette’s villa.

Ohndrea Zuckerman, newly divorced, has returned to BH and, with Gramma Rose as a built-in babysitter for little Hannah, has taken over the Beverly Beat, now re-named TheSouthland Independent, and is actually running real news stories, human-interest articles and kewl stuff on local arts and such.

Brandon, Stevie and the whole OPB (“yeah you know me”) gang has been unceremoniously dumped from the Beat by major newspaper shareholder Rush Sanders and, in order to earn their daily bread, have been taken in hand by Devon Dean, a Jackie Collins-esque queen of major proportions. Together, they’ve victoriously revamped the sagging PPAD into an “exotic dance club” with DJ Davy Silver pumpin’ out the dope tunes and sendin’ mad phat props to the whole S&M Nation. And The Beat is now an informative newsletter that coincides nicely with the new theme of the club.

Donna, the successful designer, has been doing some work for DD’s “Little Bit of Fetish” line, but has recently dabbled in some modeling, which, because Donna is not only so outwardly beautiful but also has that inner Something Special that blossoms forth on stage and on camera, has proved smashingly successful.

Not so successful is Donna’s boyfriend Poor Noah, who’s lost all his money, and recently, ahem, made a mistake with Steve’s new girlfriend Kara, a.k.a. Tara the Streetchild who’s been stalking Kelly.

And Val, in possession of most of the Hunter fortune thanks to a savvy lawyer and Noah’s penchant for “mistakes” has been investing and wheeling-and-dealing, including snapping up the Kelly Taylor Foundation and turning it into a Rape Crisis Center. Kelly, needless, is out of work. But that doesn’t matter, because she’s a Bride! A Bride! A Bride! Let the golden trumpets and silver bells ring! Accordingly....

Scene: The Spineless Women Compound Kitchen. Kelly is pouring freshly-blended fruit smoothies into tall, frosty glasses, which she sets on one of her Pier 1 Imports trays, along with a basket covered with a colorful napkin. Bustling out to the we-never-saw-it-before-season-eight section of the patio, she cheerfully serves breakfast to Donna before sitting across from her at the patio table.

Kelly offers “fresh baked muffins from that great new bakery near Third Street” and Donna sings “Thank yooooou!” and bleats and breaks the muffin apart on her plate – but doesn’t eat it. “So how are things with you and Brandon?” she asks, leaning forward on her bendy-wendy arms.

Kelly takes a prim sip from her drink – the better to show off her flawless make-up and pastel-green fingernails (which are, of course, the perfect complements to her flowered sundress and twin-set sweater). “Good. I’m glad we got everything worked out.”

“You mean that misunderstanding about him and Noah?” queries Donna earnestly, her bosoms pitching forward from the neckline of her scoop-necked orange-and-yellow knit sweater at and alarming degree. “I’m glad too. You know, you really are such a wonderful couple.”

Kelly gloats for a split-second before answering. “I just feel that, after all we’ve been through, we’re *meant* to be together.”

And Donna drill-revs out her nose again and says “That’s the way it is when you truly love someone.”

Kelly manages to focus momentarily on someone other than herself. “So that means you and Noah are doing okay?”

“He really needs me right now, Kel. And I’m going to be there for him,” confirms St. Donna, already nailed to the cross with a stylish and oh-so-trendy crown of thorns atop her burgundy bobbed head.

“You must really love him.” [Because, of course, willingly sacrificing everything to the benefit of your boyfriend is a sign that you “really love him” and you are “meant to be together.”]

“Yeah, I do,” sighs Donna with a sticky-lipsticked smile. But suddenly she lurches back, claps her hands a couple times and bugs her eyes out. “But let’s get down to business! What about your wedding? We’ve only got a few weeks to plan it.”

“Oh, I know!” Kelly coos, opening up the white leather-covered organizer embossed “My Wedding Organizer” [I don’t think I’ve yet recovered from some of the senseless shit the Wedding Industry tried to foist on me and THTM last year.... I fear some Remaining Bitterness may find its way into this plot line.] “We’ve got a lot of work to do! I need to register our china and silver patterns and pick out the table centerpieces for the reception and have my dress fitted-”

“Then let’s get started!” cheers Donna, bouncing and clapping with glee.

Groom? What groom? The wedding is for the *bride*, remember... ‘specially when the bride is Kelly “Me, me, me!” Taylor.

So then we get a lively montage of wedding-planning activities with appropriate musical accompaniment (“Never Give Up” by the Spice Girls? “I’m Every Woman” by Whitney Houston? That “Wontcha Marry Me Boy” song by Paula Abdul? That “It’s a She Thing” song by Salt ‘n Pepa? “Happiness in Slavery” by Nine Inch Nails?): Kelly and Donna at a florist, sniffing roses with blissed-out expressions on their faces..... Kelly and Donna at the caterers’, being fed canapés by the Ethnic, Okay (TM xix) chef.... Kelly and Donna looking at displays of table centerpieces and nodding in earnest while a woman soundlessly asks them to choose, and, comedically, Kelly and Donna each point to different ones.... Kelly and Donna in one of those vile, overpriced bridal salons on Wilshire Blvd. that I actually made the mistake of going into (but more on that later) on my own Gown Quest, with, like, four tulle-and-rosebud creations on display like a museum setup and lots of fancy lighting and mirrors and a round pedestal in the middle of the floor for the bride to display herself on while she tries on her dress for the Stepford Saleswoman... and Donna first shaking her head, then shrugging her shoulders, then sighing in delight as Kelly models gown after dress for her.... Kelly and Donna in the china-and-crystal department of Bloomingdale’s, Donna following with a clipboard while Kelly points at this set of brandy glasses and that punchbowl and these matching frames and those place settings and some Lalique figurines and a couple silver tea services.... Kelly and Donna coming out of Bailey Banks & Biddle, lugging huge shopping bags and exchanging heavy sighs of relief... all of these activities intended to 1) show what kewl friends Kelly and Donna are, because, like, good girlfriends do all that Wedding Stuff with you (screw family!) and 2) make you think that a big formal wedding can be somehow “shopped for” in one day.

Here, I’ve got extra Mylanta with me.

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