FIC: The Gratuitous Dwanollah 90210 Episodes

Part III


Scene: Evening. Peachy’s Gentlemen’s Club. The joint is really jumpin’ and everyone is having a swell time... thanks to the Hot Toons that DJ Davy “Yo man” Silver is pumpin’ outta his Big Studly DJ Booth. With his chunky bracelet glinting in the strobe lights and his big ol’ baggy flannel shirt sleeves dangling over the turntables, Davy adroitly mixes the inevitable Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” for the next pair of dancers on the middle catwalk with similar “pussy rock” band big hair.

At the perimeter of the crowd, Devon Dean stands observing, one buffed fingernail to his pursed lips, nodding slowly as he watches Davy. Lights flash, dancers twirl, and The Mighty Mighty DJ Davy displays his very best wrist technique (*snicker*) as he mixes in some dance version of The Spice Girls’ “Wannabe” for the next dancer, who makes Scary Spice look like she should be a nursery school teacher. As DD watches, a heavyset black man dressed all in black leather comes over to join him. The newcomer points at Davy, and DD nods in agreement, and they launch into an animated discussion that We the TV Audience can’t hear because Davy’s stupid music is too loud.

So. Okay. Scene: the offices of the Beverly Beat Me Out of My Skull, now transformed completely into The Southland Independent. Things have changed markedly since Ohndrea Zuckerman took over. Brandon’s former Bagel Girl Janet is working on the layout of the next issue on one computer, while two other yet-unknown extras toil away at their desks, one answering a phone, the other madly typing on his keyboard. Ohndrea, hair twisted up and dressed all just-this-side-of-matronly-businesswoman is going over an article when Unknown Girl interrupts her. “Ohndrea, the phone is for you... it’s someone representing Jean-Jacque Roland in regards to your interview with him this afternoon before the foreign film festival” as if anyone would actually utter a sentence like that, but otherwise those who didn’t tune in last week (or summer, as my own lil’ thread of episodes is concerned!) would be lost.

Businesslike, Ohndrea picks up the phone on her desk. “This is Ohndrea Zuckerman... Yes, yes, I’ve scheduled an interview with Mr. Roland for this afternoon.... No, I’ll be doing the interview myself- .... Speak French? Ah... no, I didn’t realize-.... Well, will you be available to serve as an interpreter? ... I see... Perhaps someone with the department-... No... no, I understand.... No! I’ll find someone! Please let Mr. Roland know that I’ll see him at three this afternoon.... Yes, thank you.” And she hangs up the phone, groans and buries her face in her hands. “Oh, how could I have made such a *stupid* mistake?”

Janet looks up with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Ohndrea looks up. “I didn’t even bother to find out if Jean-Jacque Roland spoke English, that’s what’s wrong! And now I’ve got an interview with him in a few hours, but I can’t communicate with him!”

“What about an interpreter?” asks Janet.

“There’s no one available. His assistant is busy with details for the banquet tonight. It’s too late to make arrangements through the school’s language department. You don’t speak French, by any chance, do you?”

Janet shakes her head. “Jody? Kevin? Do either of you speak French?” she asks the two Other Workers, who reply in the negative.

“I can’t believe it! Who can I find at the last minute that’s fluent in French...” and the proverbial light bulb goes on, so Ohndrea snatches up the phone, dials rapidly, and waits for an answer. “Hi, Brenda? It’s Ohndrea... Listen, I have a huge favor to ask you....”

Later. Casa Walsh. Kelly, in her Rabid Domestic Frenzy, has set the dining-room table for two and planned a cozy little dinner so she and Brandon can “talk about our wedding plans.” So Brandon, wearing brown trousers, a red shirt, blue tie and grey jacket that are (you choose the correct answer): a) unmatching b) too big or c) both, has his brows furrowed to the max as he sits down and prepares for the onslaught of Wedding Madness, because no real man in his right mind would take an active interest in his own wedding, and only patronizingly indulges his little women her girlish fantasies that she’s had since she got her first Barbie wedding dress. So anyway, Brandon is pulling up his chair while Kelly fawns all over him and serves him dinner and he says in his über-patronizing voice “Well. This looks good” and Kelly says “It’s eggplant with feta cheese and pine nuts, spinach soufflé and Waldorf salad” and Brandon says “Oh-h-h” while waggling his eyebrows and forehead and grimacing, thus perpetuating the stereotype that men only eat meat and potatoes and pork rinds and bean dip and women are constantly trying to get them to eat unmanly food and this is just a big Battle of the Mars and Venus Sexes and isn’t it too, too *cute* when couples fight like that because all couples do, you know, and this is just a sign that B&K are “practically married already” blah blah blah....

So after the whimsical interplay re: boy food and girl food, Kelly sits down with her glass of white wine to compliment her din-din, and pulls out her Wedding Organizer. Chirping happily over the invitations that she’s ordered and the china and linens she’s picked out, she flings appropriate Bride magazine clippings, napkin samples, plastic wedding-bell favors, fabric swatches and the like in Brandon’s direction and gushes about all of the gardening they’ll have to have done before the reception, and how many floral arches they’ll have to order, and how they should really have the living room completely re-decorated and the patio refurnished because there’ll be at least 300 people (the more people at your wedding = the better you are as a couple, geddit?) there. “And I called your mom in Hong Kong, and she’s going to take care of arranging for the minister, and your dad is ordering all of the champagne, and my mom knows so many photographers from her modeling work that the wedding pictures are no problem, and my sister Joy (does ANYONE remember Kelly’s Instant Sister from season eight who was, like, never heard from again, even during Kelly and Brandon’s non-wedding wedding last season?) is going to be a bridesmaid and Erin, of course, will be the flower girl” and Kelly’s making little checks on a list the whole while, “but my dad....” And she sighs, pursing her crushed-rose lips while she flips through the papers on her clipboard.

“What about your dad?”

“He actually had the nerve to think I’d let him give me away!”

Brandon stops toying with the girlie-food on his plate. “So you aren’t going to?”

Kelly puts down her list. “ Brandon, after all he’s done, surely you wouldn’t expect that I’d want him to walk me down the aisle on our wedding day-”

But Mr. Know-It-All has circled his prey, and is going in. “Kelly,” he says, as gently as a Mack truck, “don’t you think now’s the time to put all of that behind you? It’s a new beginning for us; shouldn’t it be a new beginning for you and your dad?”

“I can’t believe you’d be on his side!” snaps Kelly, twitching her shoulders.

“C’mon, Kel, just think about it” cajoles Brandon “Michael Landon” Walsh. “Someday you might really regret not making an effort to reconcile things with him. Do the right thing, babe” ‘cause when Brando calls Kelly – or any of his Many Women – “babe” in that “I know what’s best for you” tone of voice it means he’s at his “de-spine-ing”-in-the guise-of-loving best. “He may not be the best father in the world, but he’s still your father.”

And Kelly’s dewy face is all crumpled up as she starts crying.

And Brandon continues with the final thrust of the knife, “After all, I’m going to be a father myself soon. I know how much your dad must love you.”

“I just know how much *I* love *you*” coos Kelly in her breathy baby voice, thankful that Brandon has once again helped her see the light and solve all of her Life’s Dilemmas. And she puckers up her itty bitty (TM me) lips to kiss Brandon, and they start down-and-dirtying on the table and Brandon all manly-like shoves aside the girly food and girly wedding stuff and girly feelings and everything in one masculine arm-swoop and throws Kelly on the table like the rutting dog that he is.

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