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The following is an ongoing work of composite fiction by
contributors from the Message Board. Due to the erratic nature of
its construction the editors apologize for any omissions or lack of
attribution to the proper authors. This story is on-going and will be
archived here periodically. For current chapters, comments, or to
add you own chapter, please visit the Message Board. This story is
a work of fiction. Names have been changed to protect the guilty
and any similarity to actual events is purely coincidental.
I think we should all collaborate on a big creative Bowie story, like
someone says 'this happened,' then the next person goes, 'and this
happened,' and so on and so forth and never ever stop... Ok, I'll
start it up, since I thought of it...hmn...let's see...what to write...
David Bowie pulls the lapels of his coat jacket up over his face and
makes his way out of the cab, across the street (unseen) and into
the Happy Face Cafe. The place is smoky like out of an old movie.
Two men sit by the counter silently sipping away at coffee and
reading the paper. A waitress comes out of the kitchen ('ole Miss
Beehive) She forces a plastic smile across her face. "We're open,
please come in," she mutters. Bowie takes his hat off and presses it
to his chest. He smiles, big white teeth and demon eyes!
Any takers? feel free to re-write what I've written and continue from
The waitress clears her throat and smiles again, this time uneasily,
unsettled. "You. You've, errr, you've had your teeth done. Haven't
you? Was it, was it painful?" Perhaps she has gone too far, been
too familiar. Bowie fixes his demon eyes on the waitress' mouth.
Then on her legs. His mouth twists into a quizzical smile "My teeth
were well spotted. Unfortunately, they began to disintegrate circa
1989, so I had to have them capped - a painful process, which I
wouldn't recommend to the faint-hearted. So now I have a whiter
than white smile - This is the only artificial part of me. Thank you
for your interest. "He lights a Dunhill Red and slowly surveys the
parade of freaks sitting at the bar and the shabby tables around
Miss Beehive returns with a plum and carrot puree and two pieces
of lightly toasted white bread with the crusts cut off and asks
Bowie what brings him to a place like this. He explains that he's here
in Picewa Kansas to record a small tribe of indigenous Indians
performing obscure rituals for future use as a rhythm track on his
upcoming part 4 of the 'Outside' trilogy. He's only just arrived by
bus and the rest of his crew are arriving in the morning. He asks
where the Rancho Vista Motel is located to which she replies
"Why, just a stone's throw from here. Half a mile down the main
road...on the left." Renewed with this information he pays the
check, rises to leave and walks to the door. As if having second
thoughts he pauses a moment and walks slowly over to Miss B and
very discreetly places a small object in Miss B's hand. She watches
him leave and looks into her hand and sees a small spotted tooth,
perhaps a bicuspid.
Miss Beehive is absolutely appalled. Shrieking, she runs to the
door and flings the tooth out into the street. It bounces, rolls, and
comes to rest in the bed of pink and white striped plastic petunias.
No sooner does the tooth hit the dirt, the only authentic thing
within blocks, than it spawns Bowies.
Rising from the petunia bed like a small army of post-mythological
droids, the fake Bowies wander aimlessly in every direction. "Oh
no!" cries Miss B. One of you still owes me for those plums!"
"Never mind" they all growl in unison! "Put in on our tab!" It's a
victory for the forces of CHAOS....soon the crew will arrive, and
which Bowie will meet them? Will the Indians still be willing to
cooperate after all this? How can anyone spot the authentic
Bowie....and what to do with all the mindless Bowie look-a-likes
spawned by that careless tooth toss?
Meanwhile (Insert ominous Batman/Danny Elfman music here),
little did everyone know that the real Bowie had been caught in a
struggle (thus losing his tooth) and whisked away in a black
Mercedes by the evil Mariah Carey Minions. Yes, they, along with
their leader, Mariah, had decided to try and conquer radio airwaves
(and therefor the minds of the masses) with their dolphin-like
screeching sounds and nauseating buffoonishness (exhibit
:Fantasy video). The only thing they felt that stood in their way of
totally, and utterly, destroying the ideology of creativity and talent
Mariah - black leather skin tight suit - she cracks her whip, lines of
lacerations crossing his back road map style. "Tell me where thy
talent lies," she bellows out high soprano--glass shatters. Bowie
merely turns his head toward the wall - ready for another one! And
she gives it to him.
She whips him for a long time - Bowie's back something even Bob
Flannegan would be proud of. But unlike Mr. Flannegan, Bowie
seemingly cannot stand that threshold of pain. His knees weaken,
his arms slump--the chains about his wrists dig deep into the flesh.
"What?" she says, "I can't hear you." She draws closer - kneeling
down on the floor beside him. She places her leather embraced ear
close to his mouth, almost against our fallen hero's lips.
Mariah looks down at the blood strewn carpet. Bizarre shapes,
Bowie moves his foot weakly, smearing the blood into an
indescribable pattern, almost like that of a rose. He coughs and
gasps. Mariah leans closer to hear his reply.
Bowie rasps out a vicious reply: "Nothing that you would ever
know," he says. "Mariah, your music needs a lot more complexity
than you'll ever believe."
Bowie slumps further on his chains, exhausted and breathless.
Mariah grows angry.
The whip cracks again....
Unbeknownst to the Evil Mariah, Bowie had had a secret chip
implanted just where his wig line touches the scar from his last
facelift. He had it programmed in such a way that any annoying
*singing* from any number of prefabricated pop divas would set
off a silent alarm. He knew his knight in shining armor would come
to his rescue (complete with a rubber hose, which is much more fun
than your conventional whip). If he could withstand the vicious
attack of her voice (far more damaging than any physical assault)
he just might make it...
Iggy is the first to hear the alarm, but he's far too busy mixing up a
batch of his patented Mr. Osterberg's Extra Special Peanut Butter
Face Cream to leave just right now. If David had the sense to be
kidnapped in, say, 3 hours, then it would have been no problem for
Iggy to rush off. But since ole' Iggy must keep stirring in order to
keep the cream from getting all lumpy (which just wrecks havoc
with your complexion), David will just have to wait.
Evil Mariah opens her mouth to sing her version of The Laughing
Gnome when...she suddenly begins to glow a bright orange and
smoke. Soon the only thing remaining of the Frightful One is a
puddle of hair spray on the sidewalk. David's adopted alien family
had heard the distress signal in time and having collected in a loop
the Evil Mariah's own cosmic noise pollution they then boosted the
frequency to 4000000 mega-decibels and sent it her way in a
concentrated stream of utter destruction. Their lumpy metallic ship
descends from the sky and lands. David declines to absorb what
little quickening was released with the death because it is tainted
and he didn't want another one of those 'Never Let Me Down'
incidents to occur. He does reach down towards the hair spray
though, his wig being askew and a little dab would do it but the
aliens, now out of the ship, scream out as one, "Don't touch it!! It's
Pure Concentrated Evil!!"
Bowie is very happy to see his friends of course but they act
strangely suspicious of him. Their scanners had picked up multiple
other Bowie life forms and being who they were they required a test
of authenticity. And so scientists went to work to devise one.....
Michael Bolton bursts into the soundproofed corridor by way
of it's 2.4 ton steel doors! He stops for a moment, checks his head,
mutters "Not a scratch!" and continues thundering into the room...
Mariah, shocked, yells "Michael! What are you....." David sighs,
thinking FINALLY! as Michael tears the whip from Mariah's hands.
"I knew there was something wrong when I found THIS!" he said,
holding up a shiny, polished molar. Mariah, furious, screams "What
are you doing?! I was THIS close to having ALL his secrets!"
"What secrets?" asks Michael, stupidly. Mariah screeches, foam
and spit flying forth from her mouth. "His TALENT you fool!"
everything in the room is rattling from her voice. "Oh, that.. you
don't have to whip him to get THAT.. just tickle his armpits, like
this.. " Bowie cringes..... "NOOOOOO!!" and starts filling the room
with tortured screams and painful peals of laughter..
"MIIIIIKKAAALLLL!! NOOOO!!! A HAAHAAHAHHA!" And
then! When it seemed all was lost, David manages to free one of his
legs, and inadvertently kicks Michael's hand.. out of his hand, flies
the tooth, which lands directly in the Evil Mariah's mouth... She
stops, shocked, grabs her throat, and chokes until she finally
swallows David's tooth! She gives a look of disgust. "Bleh!
Yucky!" David braces himself, for he knows what is coming...
Mariah EXPLODES, covering them both with her innards, and the
remains of what looks like yet MORE Bowies! "Thank GOD," says
David, "If I had to look at her in that leather suit for ONE more
second.. I would've went completely mad!"
The two men stood in silence for a while. It was David who spoke
first "Michael, please untie me... for, for old times sake?" David
lifted the corner of his mouth, almost seductively. Michael moved
The two men stood in silence for a while. Thinking of hot-dogs and
donuts (Michael), trains speeding into tunnels (David)......It was
David who spoke first "Michael, please untie me... for, for old times
sake?" David lifted the corner of his mouth, almost seductively.
Michael moved closer... bringing his lips to David's. Slowly
Michael's tongue entered David's mouth and delicately moved
across the immaculate porcelain caps like a French maid dusting
precious statuary... Quickly Bolton withdrew and said "I had to do
that to see if you are the real you. All of Picewa is overrun with
Bowie drones and they all have your old bad teeth!" Michael helps
David up and both scrape Mariah's splattered giblets from each
other when the door swings open and Miss B, dressed in full Nazi
regalia shouts "Vat ze himmel are you two doink down here? Zis ist
my playroom!! Und ver ist my little liebe-slave Mariah?" Thinking
quickly David explains that he and Michael were trying out a new
recipe for microwave bread pudding when Michael opened the
microwave door prematurely and sent rude organ meats flying
about room. Miss B moves aside and David and Michael move past
her brushing against her heaving cleavage which reminds David
momentarily of the cantilever houses on stilts dotting the hills of
Los Angeles. Miss B shouts at them as they run down the hall "Iff
you zee zat little scamp Mariah tell her to get her skinny little ass
down here right avay! Ve hafent got all nacht!!!"
The two rock superstars adjourn to the Rancho Vista Motel (room
26) where they.....
Sha-boom, sha-boom. "Oh, that was
simply sensational," says Bowie through a breathe of cigarette
smoke. "I'm glad you still enjoy me, Dave" says Michael. "Did you
just call me Dave?" "Yes, why?" "'Yes, why'? No on calls me that.
No one but those stupid internet people! And that stupid Joseph
Peter Rantson Chaos, what's-his-name?! I hate him!" "But with out
him..." Michael caresses David's chin. "Without him there wouldn't
be us." David looks up at Michael with his innocent blue and
brown eyes. "That's true," says David as he throws Michael over
onto his back. "Oh," wines Michael, "You always get top."
Suddenly David reaches underneath the mattress and pulls out a
HUGE ass scalpel and immediately starts scalping Michael. Mike
tries to maneuver from underneath Dave, but by now David has him
in a full nelson, and Bolton is trapped. After pulling off the prize
Bolton mane, David begins to slowly make an incision into
Michael's chest plate...Little did David know, that the entire group
of "Bowie-spawns" had decided to band together and overthrow
the real David Bowie, and had sent an elite group of prepubescent
Bowie-spawns to annihilate him. They were using Michael's chest,
in effect, as a Trojan Horse.
After the fatal incision was made, a small group of the
prepubescent forms of the "Bowie-spawns" began streaming out,
filling the entire room. The gnashed their crust encased teeth
together in unison while steadily moving towards the real David.
Horrified, David begins swinging Bolton's hair around, like a mallet,
in the hopes of keeping the Bowie-spawns at bay...
But it's not working! The Bowie-spawns continue to advance on
poor David. They start to shimmy while chanting in unison "this is
for Mariah" in a Cockney accent reminiscent of Anthony Newley.
But their collective voices, being tuned to David's own vocal
wavelength, aren't enough to reactivate his emergency chip and
there's no way that he can reach the door without bringing himself
closer to their gyrating limbs. David makes one final sweep with
Michael's hair, which somehow breaks the spell that caused the
Bowie-spawns to dance. They then bring out their bottles of Lady
Clairol Red Hot Red, hoping to dye Michael's beautiful locks since
he'd always been too insecure in his masculinity to allow it to be
dyed before. They close in on David, and the smell of peroxide is
almost more than any human could bear. Suddenly, there's a knock
on the door and in sashays Mick Jagger. He takes in the scene
before him, turns to look at the room number, and leaves, muttering
that he was looking for rm 27 at the Rancho Vista Motel and
besides, he's not into all that anymore. The Bowie-spawns close in
....dancing maniacally. David throws the Lady Clairol saturated
Bolton-mop at the drones and they become helplessly entangled in
the sopping tresses. Suddenly a furious Jerry Hall appears at the
door holding a gun. She screams "Mick I know you and Uma are in
there, come out right now!!" in her endearing southern drawl. David
says "Hello Jerry! I think you want rm 27, next door!" Jerry coos
"Thank you David, you're a true gentleman, and tell Iman I said
'hello'" Jerry storms off. David surveys the carnage in the room, the
eviscerated corpse of Michael Bolton and a huge evil-smelling
yarn-ball of Bowie drones and slimy Bolton locks. A hideous
growing drone fills the air, drowning out the gunfire and screams in
rm 27, and David runs outside to see the sky slowly growing black
with Sony) helicopters. In the lead 'copter sits the President of
Sony Corporation, known affectionately as 'Boompums' to his late
wife Mariah. And he's very angry. David dashes into the street and
begins waving frantically to the passing traffic. A late model
Lincoln convertible stops and Bowie jumps in just as the
Sony-chief's helicopter lands in the parking lot of the Ranch Vista.
The driver of the Lincoln, which David has yet to look at, croaks in
his patented monotone "David Bowie, chameleon of rock, what are
you doing in Kansas?" he continues "Remember me? Your old
friend William S. Burroughs?" David is overjoyed to see Burroughs
and asks "Do you have somewhere that I can hide?" Burroughs
gasps, "I live just six miles down the road, in Lawrence, I come over
here because the VideoMart is better here, a real secret. Come to my
house and we'll watch 'The Nutty Professor'. Did I ever tell you
about me and Eddie Murphy?"
"Oh, everybody knows about Eddie Murphy..." David begins, and
then realizes that something is amiss. Maybe it's the fact that
Burroughs has a Bolton song playing softly on the car radio.
Maybe it's the fact that the Sony) chopper has stopped its chase
and seems to be more preoccupied with filming the events in rm 27
(for a rush-released Xmas video that the whole family can enjoy
year after year). Maybe it's the fact that Burroughs hasn't
aggressively tried to pick up on him since he's gotten into the car.
And maybe it's the fact that all of a sudden David remembers that
Burroughs is DEAD (*insert ominous Elfman music here*).
Burroughs begins a slow but giggly version of When a Man Loves
a Woman and steps on the gas pedal. The moodily lit Kansas
landscape goes sweeping by the windows in one big blur. With a
deep feeling of dread David says to himself, "I wish I'd never heard
of Picewa; Kansas will most definitely NOT be on my next tour.
Damn that fed up; I should have never listened to him. 'it'll be just
as much fun as upsville,' he said. Bloody liar." Burroughs turns off
on a dirt path, adjusting his hat and laughing...
"Would you have such a thing as a light?" Bowie's cigarette
dangles unlit from his lips. He waits. Burroughs continues to hum
and gurgle insanely under his breath. "I guess not." David gazes
out the window and calmly hatches a very cunning plan. He shifts
his gaze to Burroughs' hoary features. "You've got a moth on your
chest. Right there." David rests his index finger lightly on
Burroughs' chest. As he does so, Burroughs glances down at his
chest - just long enough for David to swiftly ram his index finger
firmly up Burroughs' left nostril, and to thrust him, nose first,
through the windscreen...
The car falters then skids sideways and rolls. David is thrown clear
of the wildly spinning car but Burroughs having his seatbelt firmly
fastened according to Kansas state law, remains in the rolling
vehicle until it stops on one side, and with one great creaking sigh
teeters over onto Burroughs. Greasy side up. Bowie dashes over to
see only Burroughs feet protruding from underneath the smoking
wreckage. Bowie kneels down and touches the flattened father of
the cut-up methods Bruno Magli shoes. The dead authors legs
shrivel and recoil under the car and Bowie jumps back. He looks
around the barren landscape and says to himself "I don't think I'm
in Picewa anymore." An annoying buzzing comes from the horizon
and he sees a small crop-duster flying directly at him. As he flattens
himself onto the pavement bullets raining down around him he sees
that the President of the Sony) Corporation is piloting the menacing
machine. The plane loops skyward and banks left in preparation of
another pass. Bowie runs into the cover of the nearby cornfields
and crawls into the thickets of corn stalks.... The plane passes
overhead twice, bullets flying, and disappears, sucked into the
immense horizon. He dusts himself off and begins the long walk
back to Picewa.....
He takes a little nap on a bench, and when a store clerk enters her
shop, he follows her in.
"This is not a pawn shop," she says holding Bowie's ring to her
"Can't you give me anything more than twenty dollars. I need so
much more." Bowie lets that worry wrinkle up his brow.
"Twenty is all I can give you for, young man." Bowie looks
"Well, if you could throw in a few spankings, maybe we could work
Their eyes meet. Smiles cross both their faces.
Suddenly, the shop fills with smoke. A large black hole appears in
the floor, right in front of the cash register. "No" cries David. "Not
the dreaded Labyrinth!" Just then he looks up and sees a horrid
sight! Mick Jagger, bleeding profusely from hundreds of bullet
holes, staggers into the shop, holding Uma's head by the now-pink
hair. Behind him trails a terrible revenant of poor Mariah, put
together rather hastily in the Sony labs in the back of the shop. 'A
trap', thinks David to himself (this is one swift dude!) Taking the
least horrible alternative, David leaps into the black hole, pulling it
shut just in time. Mick claws with bloody hands at the floor where
just moments earlier, the entrance to the Labyrinth had been. 'Foiled
again'!! cries the evil Mick. 'I knew who must have turned me
in....David told Jerry about me, and Uma! The rat! I kept quiet when
he...." Just then, the Sony copter roars into sight, sending a spray
of flechettes thru the glass, pulverizing the entire contents of the
shop. Meanwhile, David gropes through the Labyrinth. 'This entire
stupid place looks the SAME' he cries in frustration. 'There's no
way out! I'd rather be in Kansas!' Realizing what he just said, he
sinks to the ground in horror, knowing there is only one hope left.
He must somehow contact fed up!! fed up can get him to Hel's
house. Hel could call Robot Monster or Ramona or some of the
other regulars! Party time! And he could get help from D.S. and that
terrible Peter! 'Oh yes, that's it! I'll hire Ranting Peter as my
bodyguard....then these nasty incidents wouldn't keep occurring.
It's getting bloody boring! And if Ramona comes over, I'll still get
And boy do I need a good spanking!' David stumbles on and on for
what seems like forever in the dark underground, until...
Jim Henson (who was reportedly DEAD [*insert ominous Kermit D.
Frog song with music by Danny Elfman here*]) appears in a puff of
green smoke. David recoils in fear, not at first recognizing the
Bearded One. As recognition sets in, David breathes a sigh of
relief. "Oh, Jim," he says, "you've no idea how awful this night has
been for me. I'm so glad to see a friendly face..." "Not so fast,
buck-o," Henson replies. "I've a little bill here that my lawyer has
drawn up for me. It includes expenses for dry-cleaning that bloody
beastie costume to get out that god awful smell of cigarettes! And
for all those wigs and all that make-up that *mysteriously*
disappeared from wardrobe. Not to mention the fact that you broke
Haggle's heart and sent him to an early grave. Boy, I'm gonna make
you wish that you'd never met me. And it's not just because you
look better in tights than I ever did." David peers around frantically,
...and reaching for his black leather codpiece. Yes, my friends, if he
could only reach it without Henson knowing, he would be able to
activate his secret weapon, a raging jock-itch infection, that would
certainly hold Henson at bay. With much joy, Bowie grabs his
codpiece from his genitalia, and waving a handful of his meaty
protrusion at Henson, he starts laughing hysterically.
"Ha Haaah ha ha ha" he laughs on insanely. "Ha ha, yourself,
Dave" says Henson. "Lordy, I dunno what YOU'RE laughing at.
That's even less impressive than it looked in Man Who Fell to
Earth, you old fruit!" Embarrassed, David retracts his impish shlong
and buttons up his codpiece. "I'm sorry, Jim" he murmurs, abashed.
"I'm totally fagged. This has been one hell of a day and I don't
know whether I'm coming or going. You're understandably upset.
I'll send the wigs back... they did this vote at Teenage Wildlife,
anyway. And I've got some rather nifty financial maneuverings
going on right now so that I can pay you back for the dry-cleaning
and make up. Listen, can we get out of here? I'll buy you a banana
"Back at the ranch, Dr. Weinstein has constructed a bomb that will
blow up the universe! Can Bowie stop him? Will Kermit and Miss
Piggy ever do the nasty? Find out in our next episode OF The Man
Who Came To Earth (I said came)," writes Joseph Henry K III. Little
does he know it, but Bowie is sitting on the love sofa behind him
with Kermit, them making out. Kermit, "Do you think he'll ever
notice?" Bowie, "I doubt it! All he DOES it type into his computer."
Kermit, "I bet he'd be surprised!" Bowie, "Well, why don't we leave
him a little something to wonder over."
Bowie tears off Kermit's left leg and carefully places it on the coffee
table beside the Kleenex box.
Joseph types more and more slowly as his eyelids begin to droop.
"I'll just rest my head on the keyboard for a minute..." he thinks.
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb bbbbbbb..." his
And Joseph dreams... of phantom Boltons, Careys and
Burroughses. Of prepubescent Bowie clones. Of Kansas
cornfields... and of Bowie and Kermit lost in a deeply probing,
intensely energetic and tonguey kiss on the love seat behind him.
Joseph hears his own voice saying, over and over again in a gentle
Kansas drawl, "There's no place like home. There's no place like
home." Over and over... and then - he sits bolt upright. Suddenly
more awake than he's ever been. Bowie and Kermit? The love
seat?? HIS love seat???? He swivels around violently in his chair -
his heart racing.
The love seat is empty. "Shit, it was just a dream!" Joseph whines
as he slumps back in his chair and scratches his crotch. "I'm going
to bed". He shuffles from the room and turns out the light... without
ever noticing the Kermit leg on the coffee table... or the Bowie-sized
ruby slippers on the love seat.
...Meanwhile Bowie and Henson are knocking back fruity cocktails
in a happening little cafe three miles (just enough) from the Bog of
Eternal Stench, and the plot thickens...
"When did you add this excellent bar and lounge to the Labyrinth,
Jim?" inquires David, relaxing for the first time in hours. "I don't
recall it being here back when we did that film!" "Oh, it was here,
but you were so busy changing wigs and bitching about teenage
leading ladies that we never got around to taking you here" replies
Jim. "But I've got to go to a smoky back-room meeting with those
Goblins in a minute, so you've got to find your own way out."
"NO" whines David. "Let me use your car and driver....I need to get
back to the Rancho Vista Motel....I'm expecting people for drinks!
They're going to listen to my old songs and fork over a bundle! I
can't miss this appointment, Jim!" "Forget it, Dave" warns Henson.
"Don't call me that! Only those stupid internet people call me that!"
snarls David. "Only those stupid internet people still like your
songs, Dave!" sneers Jim as he abandons David at his table. "Huh"
sulks David. "What do YOU know, you jerk! You're DEAD!" A grim
waiter appears, demanding payment for the 6 fruity drinks, but
David realizes he's lost his wallet somewhere along the way. "I'll bet
that sneaky frog Kermit picked my pocket when I was involved with
that tonguey kiss! Never trust alien life forms!" thinks David,
pulling off his wedding ring to pay the tab. He saunters to the door,
looking out into the murky gloom. Jareth's castle shadows the
horizon, miles of intricate maze between. "I wonder if there's a tube"
sighs David, looking for signs of a subway entrance in the nearby
maze. But no such luck. Suddenly, David hears a merry whistle
around the bend. "What's that?" he wonders? "I'm sick of this
paltry Henson rerun!" Suddenly, around the corner comes
strolling....Trent Reznor, and in a fine good mood, too! David is
Trent whistles the tune to Crystal Japan, marveling at how he could
have come up with that tune all by himself. He sees David, and
smiles shyly. "There you are," he says. "Why haven't you returned
my calls? Don't you care about me anymore?" David stammers,
thinking of what to say and still suspicious since Trent seems to be
in such a good mood (after all, he is smiling, which is a rare thing
for him). Before David can say anything, Trent reaches over and
gives him a big hug. "Never mind. That's all in the past," Trent
says. "I was just on my way to the semi-annual Virgin Sacrifice over
in Picewa. I always hate to go to these things by myself, but none
of my friends wanted to come along. Won't you join me...
Like, naked people dance around in circles and Trent, shirtless, has
white body paint all over his chest, arms, and face. David is
inappropriately dressed in a tux and feels damn uncomfortable
around all these naked people. So, it undoes his bow tie and begins
to take off his clothes. Margot and Ramona show up, help him off
with his boxers (!) and give him these terrible red, hot spankings so
he can't sit down for the next three weeks--so he just roams the
streets, instead, in despair, finally leaning his weight onto the side
of a building, and, having forgotten that he never got dressed
again, is arrested for indecent exposure.
In the jail house...