2005-06-11 - 3:29 p.m.

A Better Christmas Special

Ahhhh. A Clay Aiken Christmas. That was one edgy special, wasn’t it? I know it was coss Clay said so.*sigh* (I love him anyway.) I guess in his world nothing says edgy like people with clipboards and headphones. Okay, maybe he thought it was edgy to wear the most hideous, ill-fitting sweater in his closet for the entire show. I guess it was pretty edgy to show us how sometimes even professionals need more than one take to get something right, and then when his voice cracked on the glory note of the most beautiful Christmas song ever sung in the history of the world, he said, “What? I’m not doing another take; I’m going to lunch. Yes, I realize my voice totally cracked and I should probably sing it again. Why don’t we just run this idea of a second take by the executive producer. Hello? Executive Producer? You’re hungry too? Allrighty then.”

Perhaps I’m being too cynical. After all, I will agree it was pretty edgy to allow zombies to sit all over his furniture so close to Halloween. Maybe the green sweater kept their hunger for human flesh at bay? I actually think it would have been pretty edgy if he’d asked Barry Manilow about his love for Baby Jesus. But he didn’t. Most importantly, I’m really thankful he didn’t do the edgiest thing I could ever imagine and attempt to act in some cheesy skit and then refuse to do as many takes as necessary for the skit to be entertaining in a non-trainwreck kind of way. Disaster was averted, people.

Clay’s subsequent performance on Scrubs has given me hope that he can be trusted with a script, but the man is really better off ad-libbing. He’s quick, he’s witty, and he has great comic timing when he’s writing the lines at the top of his head. We’ve seen it in his interviews with talk-show hosts and we’ve seen it many times on-stage. So when I found out in October 2004 that Clay would be hosting his own Christmas special, I thought about what I’d like to see. Jessica Simpson certainly wasn’t on my list, but she was one of the rumored guest stars when I wrote this.

I’ve used initials in place of actual names, but many of my cast of characters from the LBFCA have showcased their talents on the main pages of that site (including the Clig!). Just in case you’re not familiar, let me tell give you a brief rundown:

Of the 3J’s and a K, only one is a former professional dancer, but all are very enthusiastic in their ClayLove;
N has a great fondness for Clay’s ties, but ironically, is very worried about becoming tongue-tied herself should she ever meet him (which she has, but she can’t really remember how she did);
W would love to chase Clay around the kitchen;
C takes amazing concert photos, her camera loves the Aiken, and perhaps this is why it kept photos of a wet-from-the-rain YWT Clay all to itself;
R is extremely bubbly and has the cutest Clay purse that she designed herself;
E is best friends with R and has a bit of a crush on JohnD;
K has a Clay wig (Clig) that travels with her, and is very willing to put it on and grind or grope any Broad who wants that “touched by Clay” sensation;
P is probably the craftiest person I’ve ever met. In a nation of extremely creative and enthusiastic citizens, she ranks right near the top (note: I’m using the proper definitions of those words);
E is, well, ME! I have no special talents. My fantasy life with Clay generally involves bossing him around. This is the type of situation I’d like to have memorialized in the next edition of LTS:

Clay: That’s too bad about atheists.
Ass: I think they’re fine with the choices they’ve made.
Clay: Well, I just think people could be doing more so that those poor atheists and their children didn’t have to live with no faith or opinions. That’s just not right.
Ass: Y’know, Clay, the vast majority of atheists come from a background of faith, and they’ve usually made their decision to turn away from it after a lot of reflection.
Clay: Maybe YWT was too subtle.
Ass: We recognize bibles and crosses, Clay.
Clay: No you don’t or you’d understand.
Ass: No. YOU don’t understand, you said so in your book!
Clay: How am I supposed to understand nothing?
Ass: Don't be an idiot.
Clay:YOU’re the idiot.
Ass: Oh my god.
Clay: No, MY god.
(Long pause.)
Clay: So you wanna have sex?

Ahhhh. That is one fine fantasy. Clay should probably listen to me more than he has in the past (which is to say never). I have all kinds of ideas for sexual misadventures, and even more when it comes to his career. You tell me if the ideas presented here wouldn’t have made for better television than what he delivered himself. Just remember, Clay, it’s not too late to put these into place for the 2005 edition. I’m only looking for an associate producers credit, but I also have make a pretty good grip.

Clay is at the NBC studios rehearsing for his upcoming Christmas special, and feels that something is missing. Oh sure, he sings his songs beautifully and looks spectacular next to his celebrity guest starts, but he doesn’t feel the viewing audience will fully appreciate all that he has to offer as an entertainer.

Clay: Y’know, when I was on tour, I really enjoyed interacting with the audience members who were called onstage. No matter who the singer or dancer was, I could always tease them and make them feel special at the same time. And according to the cellcert reports, the audience seemed to enjoy it too.

Nick: Dude, you were awesome.

Producer: Well, that’s an interesting suggestion, Mr. Aiken. I’m sure something can be arranged, even if we have to cut one of Jessica’s numbers to do it. *Nick and Jerome high-five each other.* But we can’t risk having you call just anyone up from the audience. We’ll have to pre-audition them.

Jerome (rising): Hey, that’s my job.

Producer: Yessir. (clears throat) So, Mr. Aiken, what did you have in mind? I’m sure I can round up a few willing participants. If that’s okay with you, Sir. *Jerome pauses then nods his approval.*

Clay: I’m not sure really. We’ve got lots of singing in the show already, so maybe we should extend our capabilities and look at a variety of talents.

Producer: We’ll have to narrow things down a little more than that. Is there maybe an age range that you have in mind?

Clay: Well, you know I really love children, but I don’t want to risk not being the cutest one on stage. *Nick rolls his eyes.* Besides, they sometimes freeze in the spotlight.

Producer: How about one of your teenage fans?

*Nick and Jerome stifle their laughter.*

Clay: Well……I’ve gotten in a little trouble over that before. They don’t always act appropriately. Besides, we’ve got the “J-Factor” to consider. *Nick and Jerome nod at the veiled reference to Jacob.*

Producer: J-Factor?

Clay: Never mind. (paces and jingles his car keys) I’VE GOT IT!

All Three (in unison): What?

Clay: My Broads!!

Nick: Your Broads? Aren’t they kinda…..skeery?

Clay (shaking his head): Nick, Nick, Nick. I too used to be scared of the broads, but don’t you remember how nice they were in Raleigh? They gave me those beautiful purple roses and such a heartfelt card. Broads are the epitome of class and elegance. Clever and creative to boot. Exactly what we need for this segment.

*Nick gets out his electronic dictionary, but can’t quite spell “epitome.”*

Jerome (fondly remembering all his broadly encounters): But, Clay, this Christmas special is supposed to be family-friendly.

Producer: What exactly are “broads” and why might they not be family-friendly?

Clay: My Broads are my favorite internet fans. They’re a group of professional, educated women with really big…..vocabularies.

Jerome: Clay is a huge fan of women with big…..vocabularies.

Clay: Sometimes, they’re so clever that I think they may be saying something that’s smutty or dirty, but everything always seems to have an innocent explanation. It’s probably my mind that’s in the gutter. (chuckling)

Producer: Well, they certainly seem to be part of our target demographic. How do I contact these Broads?

Clay: Oh, it’s easy. I’ll just get Nick to post a message in their guestbook. They’ll be here faster than you can say Disco Pants. Especially if you put that in the message.

*Clay was right. Nick posted a message in the purple pages regarding the Broads-only auditions, and with their pooty fast fingers and encyclopedic knowledge of the airline reservation systems, dozens of Broads made the trek to LA in a bid to showcase their sometimes questionable talents. Clay and Nick are sitting in director’s chairs, and Jerome is standing in the corner, pouting a little, as Clay has decided to do the auditioning himself.*

First up: the quartet of three J’s and a K, four Broads who really don’t mind sharing.

Clay: Ladies, first, let me say you look lovely. And your costumes intrigue me. What exactly will you be doing?

J1: Um, Clay, just a tip. You can call us Broads or you can call us Gurrls, but Ladies? It’s just not good.

J2: Yeah, that just reeks of class. *J3 elbows her in the ribs.*. Ow!

Clay: What?

K: She said that speaks of class. I think she meant to say our class speaks for itself. And we’ll be dancing.

Clay: Oh, cool. You may know I’m not much of a dancer myself.

*Three J’s and a K all roll their eyes at each other*

Clay: Well, anytime you’re ready, show me what you got.

*J1 immediately starts to expose more of her cleavage while J2 turns around and starts to hike up her skirt. Fortunately the music starts and they each find their place in the choreography.*

Clay is positively mesmerized by the bumping, grinding, and kicking motions of the four Broads in front of him. He’s really getting into the performance when he realizes that he’s not the only one becoming mesmerized. He quickly places his clipboard over his lap, and clears his throat.

Clay: Ladies, ladies! Er, Broads!! *Suddenly a Clay Christmas Ball crashes to the floor. The four Broads look at each other in search of the culprit. Clay looks slightly confused.* Umm, I think we’re looking for something a little more family friendly. This is a primetime special after all. But thanks for coming. Nick will give y’all a t-shirt on your way out.

J3 (under her breath): Okay, who hasn’t been doing their Kegels? I spent nearly half an hour on that choreography. And for what?

Clay: Wow. I certainly enjoyed that performance, but I hope the next one is a little more appropriate. Who’s coming next?

Nick: It’s someone named N, but she didn’t put down a talent.

Clay: Well, I’m sure she’s good at something. It’s up to me to find out what that is.

*N walks in slowly, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.*

Clay: Hey, honey, it’s nice to meet you.

N: qerlkjaskdrjlkjaer

Clay: Well, you’re going to have to speak a little more clearly if you want to be on tv.

N:zcvadfpoiumnnppp (starts to hyperventilate)

Clay: Breathe, honey. Remember, you’re just as special as I am. (He takes both of N’s hands in his own and tries to lead her to a seat. N’s breathing is now completely out of control.) Oh mah goodness, Honey, we’re gonna have to lay you down somewhere. Nick! Help me get her to my dressing room.

Nick and Clay lead N backstage.

Clay: C’mon, honey, we’re almost there (N nods in agreement). See? There’s a nice comfy couch right behind that rack of ties. (N’s eyes open even wider. She reaches for the purple tie, gasps, shudders, and faints dead away). Oh my, Nick. I guess we’ll have to just let her stay back here for as long as she needs. (N has the biggest satisfied grin on her face and a deathgrip on the tie.)

Nick (shaking his head): I told you the Broads were skeery.

Clay: Have some faith, Nick. I’m sure they’re all just a little nervous. And we didn’t give them much time to prepare. Hmmm. This next one looks interesting. It seems she wants to do a cooking demonstration.

Clay and Nick again take their seats onstage, and W comes in.

Clay: Hey....W. Well, that’s a pretty name.

W: I’m glad you think so. If you don’t like that one, I have a couple others to choose from. You could call me Cookie. Or you could call me Tramp.

Clay: Well, I think I understand the Cookie. But I would never call a beautiful blond lady, er, gurrl, such as yourself a Tramp.

W: I think you already did.

Clay: What? When?

W: Don’t even try to pretend you don’t remember. Summer of 2003? It was shortly after that clutch.

Clay (looking confused but nodding anyway): Okay, moving along. I’m really interested in this cooking demonstration. You may know I’m not much of a cook myself.

W: Believe me, we all know that. Just like we all know you don’t like buying milk at the grocery store.

Clay: I never said I didn’t like buying milk. I just don’t like people watching me do it.

W: I bet that’s true of a few other things.

Clay: What? Anyway, let’s get back to this cooking. What exactly were you planning to make?

W: Well, considering it’s Christmas, I thought I’d make something festive. I thought about Christmas balls, but you’ve already got the market cornered on those.

Clay: Yes, my balls have been a huge hit with the fans.

W: Tell me about it. (gets momentarily lost in thought) Anyway, I thought I’d make a yule log.

Clay: A Yule log? Isn’t that some kind of a chocolate cake?

W: Traditionally, yes. I know you're allergic to chocolate, so I thought we’d do a vanilla one in your honor.

Clay: Well, how sweet. (to Nick) See? This Broad is composed, talented and respectful. *Clay doesn’t notice W walking over to him until she starts to fiddle with the top button of his pants* Oh my goodness! Whatever are you doing?

W: Getting some measurements.

Clay: What for!?!?

W: For the yule log. If I’m going to make one in your honor, it has to be accurate.

Clay: You stop right now! Get her off the stage!! *Jerome stalks over to W, as she ineffectively starts to whap at him with her spatula* (Clay whispers): But let her wait for me in the second dressing room. (louder) Okay, let’s see who’s next. Well, this looks interesting. It seems C is a photographer. I wonder what she has in mind. *Nick shudders as he mulls the possibilities.*

C walks in with both R and E in tow.

Clay: Okay, I can tell C must be the one with the camera, but who are your two attractive friends?

C: This is the ERbin. Trust me, they’re a legend. They’re also the stylists on this photoshoot.

E walks over and starts picking at Clay’s hair. He wiggles a little in protestation, but he enjoys it too much to put a stop to it.

E: No, no, no. This will never do. I must consult with John immediately. Where is he?

Clay: John? My hairstylist?

E: Yes. Where is he? I know he’s around here somewhere. (starts sniffing the air)

Clay: John has the day off today.

E: Don’t be fibbin’ with me, Clay. I know he’s here.

Clay: No, he isn’t. Look at my hair! Can’t you tell I did it myself?

E (breaking into sobs): Yes, darn it, yes I can. Well, then, you’re going to have to give me John’s phone number.

Clay: I don’t get it. Aren’t you here to do my hair for this photoshoot? *Engrossed as he is in his conversation with E, Clay hasn’t noticed that R has quietly been accessorizing him with some well-placed scarves, wristcuffs, and an adorable man-pouch* What are you doing?

R: Accessorizing. Duh.

Clay: But a purse?

R: It’s a man-sac, er, man-pouch. Very chic. Very European. And it gives you a nice place to put all your keys and phones so you don’t lose them. *R starts to expertly empty Clay’s pockets. Meanwhile, C starts to spritz Clay with water*

Clay: Oh mah goodness! Now what are you doing? *Jerome and Nick are beside themselves with giggles, wait, we’ll call them guffaws so Jerome doesn’t get mad at me*

C: Don’t worry. It’s only water.

Clay: Don’t you know how I feel about water?

C: C’mon, Clay, it’s just like a shower. You shower every day. Sometimes twice. *All three Broads breathe in his fresh scent and sigh contentedly.*

Clay: But why do you need to spray me?

C: Can’t you just pretend I’m Mathew Rolston and not ask any questions? (sighs) But if you must know, I lost some very precious photos of you singing You Were There in the rain. I’m just trying to recreate that image. Because I know how special that song is to you.

Clay: Well, yes, it is, thank you. (lets her continue, then comes to a realization) But I wasn’t carrying a purse and wearing wristcuffs!

R: No? I could have sworn you were.

Clay (slightly flustered): What were you looking at? My pants? Arrrgh. (composes himself) Okay, you can shoot one roll of film, and that’s it.

Clay takes direction from C pretty well, and then someone (I’m not saying but I’m pretty sure it was R) asks for a more intense EF.

Clay: What exactly is an E F?

R (stammering): It’s that look you give your fans. Y’know. Like you’re fu…..*E puts her hand over R’s mouth and Clay narrows his eyes suspiciously*

C: Close enough. (shoots two more close-ups) I think I’ve got what we need.

Clay: Phew. Jerome will get your numbers on the way out. Congratulations. You’re on the list.

E (contemplatively): I thought I was already on “The List.” (pauses) Hey, Jerome, make sure John gets my number as well. (makes the universal “call me” sign)

The three exit and Clay wipes at his clothes in an effort to dry them.

Clay: Jerome. A little help here?

Jerome: Oh no, Clay, I think you’re handling the auditions just fine all by yourself.

Clay (sitting back down): Okay, it says this next Broad wants to do a duet. How did this happen? I clearly said no singing. Who messed this mess up?

Nick (pointing to the sign up sheet): Um, Clay, I don’t think anyone did. See? In parentheses it says Not a Song.

Clay: Is that like Not a Tour? Because we all know how that turned out.

Nick: Why don’t you just let her in and see?

Clay: Okay, K, c’mon in. *K walks in, wearing the Clig and her full IT regalia* Oh my. This is kinda freaky. Who are you supposed to be?

K: Ummm….you?

Clay: And what exactly are you planning to do?

K: Duh. I’m planning to do you.

Clay: Do me?

K: Yes please, I think I will.

Clay: Hang on a second. Is that your real hair?

K (laughing): Don’t worry. I’m not that crazy, er, enthusiastic. It’s a wig. I have one for you as well. *K pulls out the Cler wig and presents it to Clay*

Clay: Where did you get that?

K: I swung by Raleigh on my way here. Your mom is very accommodating.

Clay: She gave you that wig?

K: Well, not exactly. She was actually very accommodating to the girl scouts selling cookies at the door. But their conversation allowed me to kinda slip in and find it. Along with the dress and a few other very intriguing things, Clayto…..Clay.

Clay (considering the implications): Okay. What exactly are we supposed to do?

K: I want to re-enact your dance with Angela for When Doves Cry. Except I get to do you, and you get to do Angela. Hang on. Fix that. You get to do the gurrl. Namely me.

Clay: But I said no singing.

K: Don’t worry. I’m not about to sing. We can lipsynch. The focus is on the dance.

Clay: When will the fans understand that I. cannot. dance. Are you all blinded by your enthusiasm?

K: Oh, Clayto….Clay, there are much better things to be blinded by. Just grab onto my tie and let the spirit move you. Like in Charlotte. Remember?

Clay blushes a little at the memory, but he’s a good sport. K fires up her CD player to the sounds of WDC.

Clay: Hey! Where did you get that? I never released a live album. *K sputters a little, then Clay bursts out laughing.* I’m kidding, I’m kidding.

The pair start a little tentatively, then begin to grind together to the music. Clay even grabs K’s tie and pulls her close. They seem to lose themselves onstage, as Jerome and Nick become noticeably uncomfortable in the corner. The spirit is definitely moving inside both of them, until Clay decides he’s going to do the same stripper drop that Angela attempted. He bends so low that he actually trips over his Cler wig. K tries to steady him, and ends up pulling the entire wig off his head. They end up in a heap on the floor. Clay looks at K, totally freaks as he realizes he was getting turned on by his own spitting image, and quickly rises from the floor.

Clay: Um….yeah, that was, um, different. Thanks for coming.

K: Thanks for making it so easy.

Clay (slightly confused): Er, uh, I guess you can give Jerome your number. You’re on the list.

K skips out the door, and Nick walks over to Clay.

Nick: You were right, Clay. The first Broads seemed a little nervous, but things are definitely looking up.

Clay (glancing down): You stop right now!

Nick: Are you talking to me or….um….never mind. (snickering)

*Clay and Nick take five, then continue with the auditions.*

Clay: Okay, I can’t make out what it says here, but can you send P in?

P walks into the room, pulling a suitcase behind her.

Clay: You must be P. And it looks like you brought a few props.

P: Props? No, just some basics. I’m actually traveling pretty light today.

Clay: I can’t quite make out your writing. It looks like you crossed out a few things.

P: Well, I really wanted to sing, since Jerome never gave me a fair shake, but then I understood you didn’t want singing, so I decided to give you a makeover.

Clay: Whoa, stop right there. I’ve already had one make-over in my life, and it’s taken me over a year to almost completely undo it. (runs his fingers over his beloved sideburns)

P: But you haven’t seen what I can do. I’m really very talented. (she quickly whips a make-up kit, brushes, tweezers, and a light-up mirror out of the front pouch)

Clay: I’m sure you are, but I’m not a fan of too much make-up. And just how many hands do you have?

P: Okay, first, there is no such thing as too much makeup. Second, I really need to show you how many hands I have. Each one equipped with five flexible fingers. (wiggles them in his direction)

Clay (backing away just slightly): Maybe later. What else do you have in that suitcase?

P: Just some basic craft supplies. You never know when you may need to decorate something. Let me just open this up and spread some things out on that table over there.

Clay: Holy Crap! You definitely come well-armed.

P: And well-fingered, don’t forget. Now, I know you’ve enjoyed doing crafts with children, but where’s the rule that says two smart, artistic adults can’t get together and see where the glitter and hot glue gun takes them?

P starts creating some real masterpieces, and Clay quickly joins in the fun. They happily do crafts, laughing and joking the whole time. Clay doesn’t understand why every object must be adorned with purple tassels, but he’s too engrossed in the creative process to question it. Nick finally comes over, tapping his watch.

Clay: Well, P, you’re definitely on the list. Just promise that if I do decide to let you do crafts on tv that you’ll keep them as tasteful as you have today.

P (innocently): Why of course, Clay. *crosses fingers from a hand that Clay can’t see as she walks offstage.*

Clay: Wow. That was a lot of fun. But hang on a second. Nick? Is there something on my pants? I'm kinda itchy.

Nick (looking): Not that I can see. Oh, wait. Um....

Clay: What?

Nick: Pull your pants down a little.

Clay: I am not pulling my pants down in public.

Nick: Oh, for goodness sakes, Clay, we’ve known each other for years, we’re in private, and I think there’s something written on your boxers.

Clay: What in the world? (He tries to turn around and because of his incredible bendiness, is able to see some colorful lettering and glitter). What does it say? And how did she do that?

Nick: I think I have the answer to both questions. It says, "Yes, I am this good. Love, P."

Clay: Well, I’ll keep her on the list, but let’s see what else is out there.

Nick (muttering): Out there is what I’ve been saying all along. (louder) Next up is E. It says she’s a ventriloquist. (E walks in.)

Clay: Well, hello, darling. I am really looking forward to seeing your talent.

E: It’s actually just one of my many talents. I really had to narrow it down.

Clay: You chose well - it's something the whole family can enjoy. (tries to see behind her) So, E, I see you, and you’re very attractive by the way, but shouldn’t a ventriloquist have a dummy?

E: Well duh.

Clay: So where is it? And if you’ve got one hidden somewhere, please don’t tell me.

E (laughing): No, believe me, I understand the concept of family-friendly. Look at me. Could I scream "soccermom" any louder if I tried?

Clay: I’ve learned that looks can be deceiving. So where’s the dummy?

E’s eyes practically pop out of her head as she stares at and then finally points her head in Clay’s direction.

Clay: I’m the dummy? I don’t know if I like the sound of that.

E: Well, you didn’t exactly give me enough time to learn how speak without moving my lips, so we have to improvise. Get up.

Clay (rising): Wh....oh, I get it.

E: Now come back and sit on my lap.

Clay: I may get some sequins and sh....stuff on you.

E (momentarily unable to breathe): Believe me, that’s quite all right.

Clay: Aren’t I a little too big to be doing this? I don’t want to hurt you. (squirms then giggles as E positions her hands in proper ventriloquist fashion. They stare at each other for a moment, then Clay clears his throat.) Y’know....you really should take off your glasses. No one can see how green your eyes are when they’re on.

E: But I can’t see a thing when they’re off.

Clay: What do you need to see? You’re talking to me, and I’m right in your lap (giggles again as E readjusts.)

E: Okay, but just for you. (hands glasses to Clay) Now, for my entertainment, I was going to conduct an interview, but a really clever one.

Clay: No stupid questions?

E: Promise. (pauses) Okay, Clay Aiken. Nice to see you.

Clay: Nice to see you too. Thanks for saving me a seat. (smiles at his ability to improvise)

E: So, Clay, tell me, did you really see that card on Finale Night?

Clay: What? That’s the lamest question ever.

E: I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m clever. Honest. Let me start again. (clears throat). So, Clay, what would you think if this all ended tomorrow? Would you go back to teaching? (Clay looks at her in horror and confusion) Oh my god. I have no idea where that came from. I have witty questions. Trust me. Um....Are you and Ruben really friends? Oh god. I can’t stop myself. What’s happening to me?

Clay: I’m thinking you’re just not as clever as you think you are.

E: I am, I am! Oh wait. Maybe I’m not. Maybe it’s just my glasses that are clever. Give them back to me.

Clay: Too late. You had your chance. (holds them out of reach)

E: Please, Clay! I need my glasses to be smart! Or how about this? If you won’t give me back my glasses, let me sit on your lap. I really don’t mind being on top. You can be the ventriloquist and I’ll be the dummy.

Clay: Wait. You already are.

E: Was that supposed to be funny? Coss I didn’t get it. (Clay looks at her in disdain and finally gives back the glasses. E shamefully walks off and mutters to herself) OMG. This is my worst freaking nightmare. I can’t believe my glasses have been the source of my wit all along and I didn’t know it. Besides sleeping and showering, the only time I ever take my glasses off is when....oh, Cla-ay! Let me back on your lap! I won’t even need my glasses! (she runs after him)

But it’s too late, as the men have already left for lunch. Clay makes a quick stop in his dressing room to change his pants, completely forgetting that N is still on the couch. He can’t see her behind the tie rack, but she sees him and faints away once again in more happiness than she can bear. Unfortunately for the rest of the ClayNation, C and her camera are busy taking pictures of the three J’s and a K dancing in the parking lot.

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