THE MAIN MAN OF BLANCH'S BUDOIR
(as written by TF and Sora)

     What does the word perhaps mean to you?  Does it mean that you MIGHT
get something or it MIGHT happen?  If that's what you think.....you're
totally and unbearably WRONG.
     Perhaps is a word you don't use loosely.  It's a strong word.  Meaning
that it should only be used in the literal sense when in a corner.  For
example:
    
*British male voice, smooth*  "Wait a minute!  Perhaps!?!?!?  What the
bloody 'ell kind of title is that????"
Jareth, storming to the director's chair, wailed:  "Listen, Mr. Perhaps.  I
don't care if you like my acting and I don't care if you're paying me a
wealthy amount of money!  I am SICK AND TIRED of living up to your
expectations of me!  This 'movie' is a disgrace to the movie
industry.....especially MGM!" 
Director, calmly and collectively, said  "Listen, Jareth.  You just play
your part and you'll never even know you did this movie.....capice?"
Jareth, angrily  "NOT CAPICE!  YOU MORON!"  Storming out, Jareth ranted and
raved about getting hired in a different screenplay.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Upon arriving at his trailer, Jareth slowly trudged up the wooden steps, key
in hand, before falling backwards onto the grass, knocking him cold after
hiccuping once or twice.
Awhile later, an older woman of about 60 or so came across Jareth's still
unconscious body.
"Oh dear!  I have to get help!"  Rose Nyland exclaimed.  Then she looked his
upper body over for wounds of any sort.  "What's an actor doing here in the
suburbs of Miami while still in costume?  They must be having a party!" 
She took the key from his hand and opened the front door, just leaving him
there with no second thoughts, and called home. 
"Blanch?  This is Rose......yes I fou......no.....I'm not stuck in a donut
shop......why would......that was that one time!  Listen Blanch....I found a
man unconscious.....an actor by the look of his outfit.  What he's wearing?
A loose shirt that really shows it all.......a pair of black
tights.......Blanch?  Are you still there?  Oh...okay....I thought I'd lost
you......I'm at the trailor park near the seventh street bridge......"
Pausing a moment, she listens to Blanch's remarks.  "No Blanch.....I don't
think he's married...."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rose had drug him into the house with the help of Dorothy and Blanch about
fifteen minutes after she called.
"Blanch....how fast were you going?  It takes at least thirty minutes to get
here."  Rose asked.
Fluffing her hair lightly, Blanch replied coolly, "Well, Rose....you
mentioned tights......no wedding ring......I just couldn't take longer to
help the poor man.....all alone....probably nobody to turn to on those long
cold nights...." 
Dorothy, rolling her eyes, looked the man over.  "Well....I think it's safe
to say that he isn't damaged."
"That's good.  I don't need a man who can't take advantage of me."  Blanch
spoke up in her sultry southern accent.
Rose and Dorothy looked at her tiredly, then back to Jareth.
"I wonder if he'll be mad that his hair his messed up......"  Rose said
uneasily.

        Dorothy smirked, “Most men I know would love to just have hair
still.”
Blanch shifted, gazing around his home, looking thrilled. “Oh my, girls,
look at this man’s wonderful taste of decoration. I’ve never known of a man
to have such a lovely home!” Blanch turned back to Rose and Dorothy a bit
worried suddenly.
                 “You girls don’t think he’s… well… GAY, do you?” 
Dorothy shrugged. “It could be, Blanch. This is the 80’s after all.”,
pausing to look at him she added, “and he certainly looks the part.”
        Rose looked at the man worriedly. “I don’t think he has anyone to
take care of him here. What if he really needs medical attention?”
Immediate Blanch stepped in. “I say we take him home with us. He can stay in
my ro- I mean, on the sofa.”
Dorothy threw up her hands. “Blanch, he’s not some dog on the street you can
pick up! What if he’s dangerous?”
Rose shook her head. “Dorothy, Blanch is right. We should take him with us.
If we don’t, he might end up like Felix Guterburg…”
Imediately, Dorothy grasped the man’s upper half. “You’re right. Let’s get
him home.”
Blanch and Dorothy mentally sighed in relief as Rose sprang to help.
          “What’s this? Dorothy, when I ask you to get a date, I don’t mean
to knock them out with alcohol and bring ‘em here. Blanch does that.” Sophia
complained.
         “Ma, please. We’re just going to make sure he’ll make it through
the night.” Dorothy defended.
        “All he needs is some coffee and by the looks of it a full course
Sophia home cooked meal. He’s far too thin. And what happened to his pants?
Why is he wearing pantyhose?”
        Blanch eyed the infamous tights. “No, Sophie… those are tights.
They’re the biggest fashion among Rock musicans these days.”
Sophia stood. “Well, I don’t want to have to stare at that clothing all day
long. Can’t you stuff him into your room, Blanch. After all, I’m sure you’re
bursting to.”
Blanch laughed, starting to move him into her room. “Not a bad idea.”

A few hours later, Jareth opened his groggy eyes, groaning with his terrible
headache. His eyes lifted up as he stared up at… himself! A mirror over the
bed? Kinky, he thought, but… why am I on a bed...?
Realization hit him as he noticed the strange room. “Damn, where am I? I
hope I didn’t take advantage of some innocent young lady in my state…”
Jareth broke into a grin. Wouldn’t be so bad if I did, though… he decided.
The door to the room slowly opened and Jareth sat up straight to get a
glimpse of the delicious piece of womanhood that he no doubt picked out.
There, instead, stood a tiny, frail, white haired wrinkled old woman with
glasses, staring at him. Jareth stared at her and cried aloud. “Nooo! Please
don’t tell me I slept with YOU last night! AGHHH!” Sophia cried out as well.
“AHHH! He’s a Brit!” and left the room.
Dorothy, Blanch and Rose rushed into the room, Jareth gasping again. ‘Oh no!
Worse, I had an orgy in a nursing home!’ he thought frantically. He tried to
maintain calm.
“Ladies… could you tell me where I am and who you are?”
Rose smiled friendly. “You’re here at Blanch Deveroe’s home. We brought you
here after I found you passed out.”
Relief swam through Jareth. ‘Thank God I didn’t sleep with any of them.’
Blanch stepped forward and extended her hand. “I am Blanch. It’s a
delightful pleasure to meet someone so young and handsome… like myself. Why,
we’re practically the same age.”
Jareth gave her a skeptical glance after kissing her hand. Cooly he replied,
“I’m several centuries old.”
Rose smiled happily. “Wow, Blanch you were right! He is close to your age!”