Come On Down
By Ann Casey
By the way this story is 100% fictional so don't go thinking it's real alrighty?And this story was written by a goo fan just like you and me and defintely email her with your comments on her story which i just loved!Read it..love it then email her!at Banana920@aol.com!Enjoy!
“Come on Down”
“Congratulations, John Rzeznik,” Bob Barker’s too-familiar voice filled the studio, “For guessing the price of your showcase exactly, not only do you win both showcases, but the entire studio is yours to keep! When I retire, you take over as host! That comes to an estimated value of...”
“What the?!” John’s eyes flew open and tried to focus on the television set across the room, which showed CBS News at Noon. “I missed it!”
In a frenzy, he flung himself out of bed, but fell to the floor due to the fact that he was intertwined with the bedsheets. “Ah, son of a-Laurie!” He yelled as if he were being murdered, “LAURIE!”
“What? What’s wrong?” Laurie raced into the room.
“You let me sleep through The Price is Right?”
“I thought you’d like to sleep till noon for once. You never get to do that anymore.”
“I know, but...” John whined, “what if I missed something important?!”
“Oh, please. You’ve been watching that show for nearly 25 years.” She said in a motherly tone, “Now, Johnny, go get washed up for lunch.”
John finally freed himself from the mess of sheets he was still entangled in, and went to go do as he was told.
John started the Classic Cars calendar on his refrigerator later that day. He repeatedly flipped the pages in hope of finding what he was looking for, but his search was in vain. “Australia?! I wanna go to L.A.!” He rifled through some nearby drawers and finally found a small address book with pieces of paper haphazardly crammed between its pages. Leafing through it, he found the number he was looking for and stretched to reach the cordless phone.
“NBC Studios.”
“Hi, this is Dave Levine’s secretary. Mr. Levine asked me to see if you have an opening for the Goo Goo Dolls on Leno next month?”
“Hmm...the only opening we have is on the 20th. Is that ok?”
John whimpered. A whole month! “I suppose it’s possible. Oh, and can you give Da-I mean Mr. Levine a call to confirm?”
“But didn’t he ask you to call us?”
“Oh, of course. But,” John lowered his voice to a whisper, “Between you and me, Mr. Levine hasn’t really been himself lately. He’s been forgetting everything-he’s been so busy. And I doubt he casually mentioning an appearance on Leno to me last week will weigh heavily on his mind. So do me a favor? Call him up and act like we’ve never spoken.” John hung up the phone and smiled to himself before booking the flights. “John, I appreciate you letting me crash here,” Robby said from the couch, “but if I see any more Price is Right, I’ll be forced to throw your TV out the window.”
John, who sat so close to the TV his knees hit the stand it rested on, replied, “All right, at noon me and you will chuck some TV’s. Now quiet, they’re starting the bidding. ...$250?! You putz!”
“Johnny, can you get the mail?” Laurie called from the next room.
“I’ll get it.” Robby escaped for mere minutes via his journey to the mailbox. By the time he returned, a commercial was on and John was still bad-mouthing the guy who blew it one step away from winning a new Ford Mustang GT.
“Ah well. It’s his own fault. Anything good?” John nonchalantly flipped through the pile of envelopes, tossing junk mail over his shoulder. Halfway through the stack he stopped dead in his tracks. “It came!” He dropped all the letters except for the one he was in hysterics over and started jumping up and down like a little kid, yelling, “It came! It came!”
Laurie and Robby looked up, “What came?”
John stopped jumping and put the envelope in question behind his back, “Nothing.”
Now the other two were really interested, “Come on, what is it?”
“I was going to let it be a surprise, but what the hell.” He gave them a cheesy smile, and held up the tickets, “We’re gonna be on The Price is Right!”
“Gosh damn it!”
“Johnny, what are you doing? It’s 3:30 in the morning.”
John sucked on his thumb, throbbing from a solid whack of a hammer.
“Jesus, you trained to be a plumber. You’d think you’d know how to use some basic tools.”
“Thank you for your support, darling. And for your information, plumbers use wrenches.”
Laurie rolled her eyes, “And tell me again: why are you building your own Plinko board?”
“I have a sick feeling I’m gonna play Plinko. I just know it.”
She laughed, “How do you know you’ll even be picked? Only a handful are chosen out of a few hundred.”
His lower lip trembling, John said, “I can’t sleep in the same bed as someone who doesn’t believe in me.” He stood upright confidently, “I’m staying on the couch.”
“...And for the final spot on Contestant Row...John Rzeznik!”
The camera combed through the audience to find John leaping higher than he ever deemed possible as he sprinted down the aisle. In his zeal, he tripped on the last step and tumbled toward the stage, finally landing at the feet of Bob Barker himself.
The audience let out a collective roar of laughter as John collected himself and tried to save face.
“Kid, are you ok?” Bob said, his tone more impatient than concerned.
“I’m fine. Let’s bid.” John was determined not to let his fall shake him. I’ll do fine, he thought, I’ve been preparing for this my whole life.
“The last item up for bid is a clay rooster, replica of an Ament family heirloom. Made of ceramic...”
Uh oh, John panicked, what the hell is a clay rooster and how much does it cost?
“John, your bid.”
“Uh...” he looked to the audience for help, but they couldn’t seem to agree. “Fifteen hundred, Bob.”
To his dismay, the next three bids were $100, $150 and one dollar.
A bell sounded indicating someone guessed the price exactly. John crossed his fingers, praying clay roosters were of great value.
“The retail price of the clay rooster is...one dollar!”
John fell into fetal position on the floor, “No! My one chance, wasted...”
John’s eyes flew open as he sat up in bed in a cold sweat. His eyes darting every which way, he realized it was only a bad dream and his breathing slowly started to return to normal.
“John, is everything ok?” Laurie asked, squinting at him in the near-light of early morning.
“Everything’s fine,” he lied. In actuality, these nightmares have been occurring all month, each more intense and vivid than the next. Now, the night before the show, he could barely sleep. When he finally did doze off, misfortune plagued his dreams.
Deciding it would be impossible to sleep, John called Mike up to see if he was up for a midnight run...at five-thirty in the morning. He got dressed and waited for Mike in the hallway.
“John, what’s wrong?” Mike asked as John was resting on a bench about a mile and a half later.
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.” John strained to get up, “let’s finish our run.”
“The only time you wanna run is when something’s bothering you, and we’ve run every morning since we got to L.A.” John sighed, “promise not to laugh?”
“Oh my God,” Mike came to a conclusion, “you’re sterile?! I told you to lay off the leather pants!”
John was honestly confused, “what? No! I’m nervous about going on The Price is Right. I know it sounds cheesy, but I’ve been waiting practically my whole life to get there, and what if it’s a disappointment?”
“It’s only natural to be nervous for something that means a lot to you. There’s a possibility that you’ll get there and only be part of the audience. But you’ll still get to be there. Even if you get on stage and lose, so what? You can always get tickets again.”
John smiled, beaming his pearly-white teeth, “Thanks, Mike. Hey, if I don’t win and I get tickets again, will you come back with me?”
“Sure.” Mike smiled. Please let him win, he thought. “Now, you up for a few more miles?”
“Nah, let’s go get some coffee.”
“John, why’d you bring your guitar?” Laurie asked as he pulled a guitar case out of the back of his rented Ford Tempo.
“I just wanna entertain some people outside the stage door. Is there a problem with that?”
“Jesus, it’s bad enough we have to be here, let alone have you draw attention to us.” Robby added.
“Ah, shut up.”
The four sat together on the bench that stretched along the wall of the building outside the entrance. John opened up his guitar case covered with stickers that read BOB to reveal a black Taylor acoustic guitar with a cut out. On it was a characature of Bob Barker, and next to it “Bob’s the Man”.
“You put Bob Barker decals on your guitar?! You loser!” Robby was dying of laughter, and Mike was trying to suppress his own. Laurie only buried her face in her hands ashamedly.
“And that’s no all!” John flipped over his guitar, revealing the decals that read: HELP CONTROL THE PET POPULATION, HAVE YOUR PETS SPAYED OR NEUTERED.
A small crowd all ready started to gather around the four in anticipation of John’s “show.”
“All right guys, this is a little something I wrote late at night. It’s called ‘Contestant Row’.”
Laurie, Robby and Mike ran from the scene before they could in any way be associated with the singing idiot. Despite the absence of his friends in his big moment, John started anyway.
“I’m gonna be on The Price is Right
And I pray to God I get to Contestant Row
Cuz I’ve waited my whole life
To get to this show
If I don’t win that’s ok
Cuz I’ll be back in LA next month anyway
When I was a little kid
I wanted to be like Bob Barker
And do everything he did
His smile can’t be any cuter
And because of him I’ve had all my pets spayed or neutered
(Chloe ain’t to happy with ya, though)
So please, cut a guy some slack
Cuz I don’t think I’ll be able to drag my friends back
Just let me get on Contestant Row.”
A crowd of considerable size applauded John and his friends came back into view.
“Hello, where the hell ya been?”
“Oh,” Laurie groped for an answer, “I just, um, had to, uh, get something from the car.”
“Bullshit!” Robby coughed, “Bullshit!”
“Well did you guys at least hear part of my song?”
“Yeah,” Mike said, trying not to crack a mocking smile, “Sounded great. But it’ll never be anywhere near a new record, so don’t get any ideas.”
“You do know this will come back to haunt you, right?” Laurie asked.
“As long as Bob Barker didn’t see it I’m ok.”
The side door opened and some guy ushered the audience members into the studio via a long corridor. When John reached the studio itself, his eyes opened wide with awe as he took in the sights he has dreamt so much of but has never actually seen. “John, are you crying?”
He wiped his eyes, “It’s just so beautiful.”
Soon everyone found their seats and Bob Barker was introduced. Laurie needed to support John so he wouldn’t fall to the ground.
John’s ecstatic facial expression slowly faded as contestant after contestant was called up, and he still remained in his seat.
As Ron was about to announce the last contestant, John squeezed his eyes tight and crossed his fingers. “For our last contestant, we have a very special fan...” On the large screen in the front, they showed a tape of John singing “Contestant Row” outside of the studio.
Laurie slapped her head in disbelief, “I told you it’d come back to haunt you!”
The video clip ended, “John Rzeznik, come on down!”
John at first started to jump up and down, but stopped himself and carefully walked down the rest of the steps.
“Hello, John,” Bob Barker said with a smile, “Welcome to contestant row. Did this make your day?”
“Are you kidding me? This is better than sex! Oh,
sorry Laurie, not with you. Woah, I mean...” John’s face was a deep crimson color, “Can we just please start the bidding?”
Bob beamed an I’m-not-gonna-say-a-word smile as the item up for bid was carted into view. John nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the pine bar with two stools he was admiring the week before in Buffalo.
“John, you look like you’re going to have a heart attack.” Bob said.
“I’m just happy to be here.”
“What’s your bid?”
He crouched slightly to reach the microphone, “Is that with or without tax, Bob?”
Bob lowered his eyebrows, “without.”
“Oh, that’s easy. To the nearest dollar it’s $2230.”
The other three contestants mimicked his answer with $2231, $2232 and $2220. John seemed completely unfazed. He just waited for the bell to sound, and once again squeezed his eyes shut until he heard it.
“And the actual retail price of the bar is...$2230. John, you’re our winner!”
John leapt onto the stage and ran at Bob; had John not hugged him, Bob would have fallen on his ass. “Thank you! Thank you!”
Once John was calmed down, Bob said, “John, for special fans we have special games...Plinko!”
Once again John had trouble controlling his excitement. He looked into the audience for his wife and gestured, “I knew it!”
One of Bob’s lackeys wheeled out the Plinko board and John was brought to the part of the stage with the veiled products. He was able to acquire those three Plinko chips with ease, making his total five.
“Do you know how to play this game, John?” Bob asked. John gave him a what-do-you-think look, and he told him to go to the top of the board.
Waiting for the crowd to silence itself, John closed his eyes, spreading his arms apart on the top of the board. Without opening his eyes, he slid the Plinko chip across the board, finally releasing it on the left-hand side. The chip made its way toward the center and looked as though it would fall in zero, but suddenly turned in the $1000 slot. John did a victory dance atop the Plinko board and tried to repeat the performance. He nervously watched as the chip fell in the zero slot. That’s ok, he thought, three chips left.
He let number three go on the far right side, and it, like the others, worked its way toward the center. “Five! Land on five!”
Zero.
His confidence completely shaken, John haphazardly released the fourth chip dead center. It moved to the right and fell on $200. With some uncertainty, John released the last chip slightly to the left. It bounced to the far left then more right, eventually falling into zero.
“Three zeroes?!” John was incredulous.
“John,” Bob motioned for him to come downstairs, “you won a total of $1200. Congratulations. We’ll be back after this.”
During the commercial, Bob had the three contestants line up by the big wheel, the first of which spun 40¢. She spun again and got 65¢, and was pushed offstage. The next guy spun 25¢, then again and landed on 75¢. His bonus spin was only 45¢, so he stepped aside for John. His first spin, when it finally came to a stop, landed on 5¢.
“Where was that when I needed it two minutes ago?” the guy under the sign that glowed $1.00 said.
“Ah, shaddup.” John spun again, but it landed on 10¢. “15¢?!” He couldn’t believe his luck (or lack thereof), “How the hell do you total 15¢?!”
“We’re sorry, John,” Bob said, “but we’ll have the showcase after this.”
Backstage during the commercial, John was tempted to throw the television monitor out the window, but fought the urge. With about a minute left to go until they were back on air, Bob came to meet John.
“John,” he said, “for being such a fan and a good sport, here’s a consolation prize.”
“Thanks, Bob.” Boy, am I glad I didn’t throw that TV out the window, he thought.
“I’d love to talk, but the show’ll be on in a minute. Bye.” Bob left.
“Bye, Bob!” John was still in a state of shock at the day’s occurrences when Laurie, Robby and Mike found him.
“Johnny, I’m sorry you didn’t win.” Laurie said.
“That’s ok cuz Bob gave me a consolation prize and I don’t need to come back.”
“What’d he give you?”
John held up the box with the same cheesy smile as with the tickets, “The take-home edition!”
