If anyone is interested in my story…
I guess you can say I am well traveled. I have been all around the world and have seen everything. I have sailed all seven seas, set foot on all seven continents, and even left a footprint on the moon. Although, if I had to choose one place that I loved the most, it would be Germany. I visit the lavished country at least once a year and spend approximately one month in the Deutsche Land. Of course I only remain on the west side of Germany for obvious reasons. The east side of Germany is worse than Lakewood. When the plane is near to landing I feel like a little child on Christmas morning. The mountains look as if they are painted in the background of green paper. The fresh pretzels and beer linger in the air. The adventure that lay after my usual flight was a far contrast from my usual sightseeing and relaxing jaunt.
You would think after all these years I could speak a word of German, but no I honestly can not say one word of German. When I landed it was like standing in line at a rock concert. Everyone was screaming, turning left and right, going up and down, possibly they were even flying? You never know what those crazy Germans are going to do next. I made it to luggage pick up, grabbed my bag, and continued walking through the bedlam. I looked everywhere for my personal limo driver, he seemed to be no where in sight. When I finally spotted him, I saw him flirting with some Italian lass. She was way out of his league. I hustled over to him making it very clear that I was angry. I bit my lip hard and squinted my eyes as I approached him. I through my bags at him like I was chucking a shot put in the Olympics games, and I was going for the gold. He embarrassedly collected my luggage and led me to my limo.
“Sir, how was the flight?” He tried to make an effort to calm me down.
I gave him a short reply, “Long.” The small talk seemed to be going nowhere, and I really did not feel like telling him about my trip to Japan, so I shut my eyes and tilt back me head. I hoped he would take the hint and shut his mouth.
He started to speak again, “You have new neighbors. They are from Austria.”
I rarely ever even spoke to my neighbors; he acted like I would be heartbroken. My one set of neighbors had one of the finest homes in Germany. It sat on eighty-five acres with a lake and a view of the mountains. The house was Hitler’s summer home, which I found quite ironic because they were Jewish. They were always trying to invite me over for Hanukkah, but I really did not make an effort to become friendly with them. The man that lived to the right of me was crazy. He spoke his own language, collected belly button lint, and had plans to take over the world. He infrequently walked outside, and when he did, he would yell in his obscured language. I tried to avoid him as much as possible.
“So, they finally took Crazy Afod took the mental ward?” I asked. The rest of the ride home was quite peaceful. When we arrived back to my multimillion dollar late 17th century mansion, I was in a stupor and headed directly to my bedroom.
I slept very late the next day. I always had immense jet leg from the long flight. I made it well known not to have any of my maids disturb me while I slumbered. I was woken by a sudden burst of music from my neighbor’s yard. It was my new neighbors. I heard a band playing. There was a trumpet tooting, a horn blowing, and a tuba puffing. I knew it was pointless to go back to sleep, so I sipped some tea and decided to start my day.
I was very curious to see what was going on outside, and I wanted to introduce myself to my new neighbors. I thought all the noise and commotion was from the moving vans and boxes, but I saw a young Michael and Tito Jackson walk by. Their faces could be described as man who just found his wife cheating on him.
I stopped in my tracks and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Tito replied, “We are going home, that’s what!”
Michael continued, “Yeah, we got kicked off. Paula said we did great and put words to music. Simon said we reminded him of a dog in a kennel. Randy said we were his ‘dogs’. Everyone was claiming that we copied the von Trapp Family Singers with ‘Doe, Re, Me’! And ABC is too much English in Germany.”
I was still confused, “What is going on?”
Michael again answered, “It’s Family Band Idol! Duh! Everyone knows about it, and knows the von Trapp Family Singers are going to win because it is being hosted at their house. It’s so rigged. Whatever I am going back to Neverland.”
I was speechless. I could not get words out of my mouth. I thought someone put cotton in my mouth and I was severely dehydrated. The world started spinning really fast and I became very dizzy. I needed some cold water. I walked up to the house and barged in like I knew them for years. I was greeted by a young Julie Andrews. She directed me to the kitchen and gave me mineral water.
I was annoyed because no real answers were given to me, “What in the world is going on?” I almost yelled it.
She answered like soft bells ringing on Christmas, “The finals are in an hour. I hope we win. The Partridge Family has been doing quite well. There has been so much drama. The Brady Bunch got disqualified because none actually knew how to sing. Peter Brady was caught lip syncing. The winner receives a great grand prize. Their own Broadway production and movie! The runner up gets a T.V. show franchise.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
I left the kitchen and headed towards the backyard where everything was taking place. There was a huge stage in the middle of the green lawn. There were dozens of foldable chairs lined up going back for several rows, and a table in front of the stage where the judges sat. The seats were filling up quickly. I saw an open seat between Marsha Brady, who was brushing her hair and Snoop Dog. How bad could it be? I scurried over to the open seat and sat down.
Ryan Secrest danced onto the stage with no rhythm and out of sync with the music. “Hello! And welcome to Family Band Idol! You know our judges tonight, Randy, Paula, and Simon! It is up to you to vote for the next Family Band Idol! We will be right back after the commercials,” he said. The commercials must have ended because the next thing I knew the von Trapp Family started singing. They were singing goodbye in about fifteen different languages. Then they started singing something about hills being alive. They got a standing ovation from the crowd. The applause was so loud I thought it could have collapsed the Berlin Wall. The blonde European family bowed and smiled at the camera. The judges were very impressed except for Simon. He thought it was like a karaoke performance.
The Partridge Family was up next. Ryan ran onto the stage like he was being chased by a hungry lion. He grabbed the microphone and with much hesitation and stated, “The Partridge Family bus broke down at the I-98 interstate B. They will automatically take second place.”
Someone rose from the audience and yelled, “It’s a conspiracy! Maria is responsible!” Another person joined it, and soon another, until it became a mob scene. A human body was running in commotion from every corner. People began throwing pretzels on the stage. Others were lighting small fires. A group even took off their shirts and had torches. I even saw David Hasselhoff lead a protest across the stage. I casually, who am I kidding, I sprinted full speed to my house. I locked every door and window in my mansion. I decided that I may just take the offer from the other neighbors and have a nice dinner.
