First Day of Forever - Landis McQuade

Good Morning Sunshine

Jim opens his eyes to discover blurry red-brown hair strands. He sneezes, causing Blair to roll off Jim and onto the floor.

Blair: Hankie.

Jim: Excuse me?

Blair rights himself. He drags a corner of the sheet towards Jim's nose.

Blair: My hair is not a Kleenex, now blow.

Jim grabs Blair's wrist.

Blair: Don't.

Jim: Don't what?

Blair: Make a bad joke. Day's awastin', dude. Come on, sooner we buy a new bed, sooner we can use it.

Blair pulls out of Jim's hold and starts rummaging through his open closet. Jim sits up and watches curiously.

Blair: You'll have to borrow something. Your threads are shreds.

Jim: This is unnatural, Sandburg. You're never this perky in the morning. You refuse to start work before 10 a.m.

Blair: What can I say? I'm nocturnal.

Jim: I wasn't finished. As I was saying, this behavior of yours is giving me probable cause to shake this place down for the weed you profess you don't smoke...

Blair: Which I don't.

Jim: Your renowned hyperactivity doesn't usually begin until one in the afternoon and that's only after you've imbibed an entire pot of coffee that costs me fifty-six dollars a half-pound.

Blair: You know what? You are an embarrassment to your coffee plantation buds in Columbia, eck, on second thought, so not going there. Jim, the explanation is rather logical. Major jolt of lovin' like you gave me last night and I'm good to go for days- sleep optional.

Jim: Good, huh? Could you pick a better adjective?

Blair tosses him some clothes.

Blair: This should fit. It's a one size fits all kind of deal thing.

Jim: It's a skirt.

Blair: No, no, no it's not. It's a sarong.

Jim: What's the difference?

Blair: The locals have no problems expressing their heritage.

Jim: It's red. I have an image to promote.

Blair: Jim, let me let you in on a secret, okay? The bad guys, well, you guys go about this fashion statement the wrong way. Black's like so not threatening. Now, red on the other hand, red demonstrates a warrior's bloodlust and passion. Red says I'm bad and I don't mind getting dirty.

Jim: It has white flowers.

Blair: Whatever. I'm gonna be ready in fifteen, so stop moaning and put it on.

Blair disappears into the bathroom. Jim gripes a bit, but manages to put the sarong on. He then tries to fix the fallen bed. The sarong keeps falling off as he is working. He finally seems to have the bed together when Naomi enters the flat without knocking and both the sarong and bed fall. Naomi openly looks him over with desire. Jim quickly covers himself.

Jim: Next time, knock.

Naomi: Life is an open doorway, Jim.

Naomi hugs Jim- more of a covert copping a feel.

Naomi: I had to come right over when I heard the news.

Jim is rigid and unresponsive.

Jim: What news is that, Naomi?

Naomi presses closer and squeezes tighter.

Naomi: Oh, don't be silly. Congratulations are in order. What kind of hug is that for your mother-in-law?

Jim makes a half-hearted attempt to return the hug, causing the sarong to drop. Blair enters the room to find a naked Jim and Naomi clinched in a hug, Naomi's hand wandering towards Jim's butt.

Blair: Jim? Mom! Mom, step back. If anyone gets to cop a feel off Jim, it's me.

Naomi complies. Jim pulls the sarong on.

Naomi: I couldn't resist.

Blair: Resist. I'm going to get dressed and when I come back I don't want to hear any tales of molestation. Jim, do not encourage her.

Jim: I wasn't.

Blair exits. Naomi winks at Jim.

Naomi: So, what do you boys have on the agenda for today?

Jim: We men have some, ahem, shopping to do.

Naomi surveys the room, taking in the broken bed.

Naomi: Have one of your henchmen do it for you.

Jim: My henchmen?

Naomi: Mm hmm, those rib busting, steel-toed boot kicking, finger breaking, brass knuckled goons you employ to protect your assets.

Jim: Sandburg!

Blair pops his head out from bathroom.

Blair: Mom? You like Jim. Besides, he retired. Give him a break. He's tired and he's got better things to do with that jaw then clench it so tightly he gets TMJ.

Blair closes the bathroom door.

Naomi: Retired? Sounds boring.

Jim: I'll find something to keep me busy.

Naomi: I'm sure you will.

Blair enters bedroom fully clothed and talking on phone.

Blair: Sunset it is. We'll be there. Thanks, Vince. (to Jim) It's all chromodynamics, man. (to Naomi) We gotta scram. The falls, sunset, be there.

Blair kisses Naomi on the cheek and drags Jim out the front door. A moment later Jim reopens the door.

Jim: There better not be any Indian guys swathed in white rags, levitating, got it?

Naomi: I have this friend who could...

Blair's head appears.

Blair and Jim: No!

***

Blair: Where's My Torch?

Blair and Jim pull up in front of Gerswhin's furniture store. Jim gets out and looks around in astonishment.

Jim: I thought I told him to torch this place and collect the insurance.

Blair: Yeah, well, about that, you see, I, uh, I kinda canceled that. His commercials are funny.

Jim: Try again.

Blair: He gave me a great price on my furniture.

Jim: Furniture? That's a piece of shit. I do have a perfectly functional bed at my place, you know? Let's just order something from I-fucking-KEA.

Blair: Kia's about the only one you didn't fuck on that perfectly functional bed of yours. The money you'd spend on shipping it could be used to feed the hungry for a month.

Jim: Buy 'em some Ramen noodles. You could feed a village for a year with twenty-five bucks of Ramen noodles.

Blair kicks Jim's shin.

Blair: Now that I've had a few minutes to think it over, I think we could invest that money we save on shipping charges on some behavioral training classes for you.

Blair takes off ahead of Jim. Jim pauses a moment before following.

Jim: I'm picking the bed. Nothing new fangled that looks like a sycophant sculpted it out of twigs and other forest detritus.

Blair shakes his head and goes inside.

Jim: Something basic. Sturdy.

Jim enters store, using his senses to locate Blair in the mammoth floor display. Mister Gershwin comes to offer assistance. Upon seeing Jim, he backs away. Jim grabs him by the collar and pulls him over to where Blair is examining some bookcases.

Blair: Mister Gershwin. How ya doin'? Jim, let him go.

Jim releases him. Mister Gershwin and Blair shake hands.

Mister Gerswhin: Mr. Sandburg, it's nice to see you again.

Jim: We need a bed.

Mister Gerswhin: (suspicious) What kind of bed, Mr. Ellison?

Jim: Oh, for fuck's sake, I have never, never peddled flesh.

Mister Gerswhin: (disbelief) No, no, of course not, not a successful business entrepreneur such as yourself. I have a wide assortment of bed frames and mattresses to choose from.

Jim looks at the overcrowded store in dismay.

Mister Gerswhin: Who is this bed for, may I ask?

Jim: No, you may not.

Blair: It's for us.

Mister Gershwin: Oh. You're gay, Mr. Ellison? I always thought you were a ladies man. I remember that hot number on your arm at the last Chamber mixer.

Jim: I'm not gay.

Blair and Mister Gershwin share a look that says, denial. They head off into the bed section. Jim follows but is distracted by his reflection in a gold, ornamental framed mirror. He contorts his face, trying out different expressions.

Jim: I don't look gay, do I?

Jim finds Blair sprawled spread eagled on a mattress. Noticing Jim, Blair scoots over and pats the mattress for Jim to join him. Jim shakes his head no.

Blair: You have to sleep on it, too. Come on, give it a test drive.

Jim: Frame first. How about this one?

He has pointed to something plain and made of natural pine.

Blair: The backwoods Maine theme doesn't go with the rest of my decor.

Blair circles a wicker bed.

Jim: For the record (nods at Gerswhin) your beanbag goes with nothing. And I draw the line at wicker.

Mister Gerswhin: Maybe you should think of getting bunk beds.

Blair: Throw back to your Army days, huh, Jim?

Mister Gerswhin: Something in iron. I have some gorgeous cast iron. Antiques, even. Not like those cheap imitation factory knock offs, no sir. These are genuine. Tough. All those narrow poles. Perfect for anchoring those pesky ties.

Blair's excited by this idea and Jim totally doesn't get it. Blair is momentarily disappointed but bounces back quickly.

Blair: Or we could go retro and get something with a built-in bookcase. That would go with my beanbag.

Jim: Sure and we'll pick up some love beads later. I don't want anything with a footboard.

Blair: Sleigh bed?

Jim: That's what I'm talking about Sandburg. Where would my feet go?

Blair: Panel bed?

Jim: You know, those tour guides might tell you that Thomas Jefferson's large frame actually fit into that kid sized bed, but they lied. Although, you would look good in some old-fashioned breeches with one of those long, white flowy shirts.

Blair is smiling and happy Jim's finally getting with it. He slaps a hand against a bed that looks like a white picket fence.

Blair: We could play Huck and Tom.

Blair waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Jim hauls him against his chest and kisses him. Mister Gerswhin coughs.

Mister Gerswhin: I think I know what you need.

Mister Gerswhin steers them over to a sand colored, open-toed, four poster bed.

Jim: Drunker welder, right?

Blair: It's perfect.

Mister Gerswhin: It is lovely. Persian themed linen set would be complimentary. It has all you require- headboard for silk scarves, open toed- foot frame so Mr. Ellison doesn't feel confined...

Jim: It doesn't match. Those rope twisted posts belong on a Gucci watch, not my bed.

Blair: Jim, you said functional. This is functional. It meets our needs and fancies. I'm sure we can twist those suckers off, right? I have a blowtorch, remember?

Jim: To caramelize crème brulee.

Jim tugs at a post and then inspects it with his super sight. He's satisfied they can be removed.

Jim: It'll do. Oh, and Gerswhin? It better outlast its warranty or I'll burn this place down myself.

They move back to the mattresses.

Jim: This is refurbished.

Mister Gerswhin: Refurbished? What kind of nonsense is that? Refurbished. These aren't the dark ages, if you know what I mean.

Jim: I'm afraid I don't.

Mister Gerswhin: Flea infested, germ-ridden straw? Harbinger of pestilence? That is not what I carry in my store. No, these babies are hot from the factory. I carry only the best for my customers.

Jim: There are bugs nesting in here. These are not new.

Blair: Jim lived in the jungle for years. Camped out in the bush. He knows. You should call the factory and have some words with the sales department.

Mister Gerswhin: I'll do that. I take pride in my furniture. It's quality. Products meant to last a lifetime.

Jim sits on a mattress and bounces.

Jim: The average life span of a mattress is ten to twelve years. These springs are bent.

Mister Gerswhin: That can't be. That's the tru-lock stabilizer with the miracle edge. It's got individual contour coils that conform to your body. It's got increased surface space. More comfort all around. It's one of my better selling models.

Angle in on the layer of dust covering the mattress. Blair pushes Jim on his back and climbs on him, molding himself to Jim's body.

Jim: What are you doing?

Blair: (sentinel soft) How about I conform to your body?

Jim puts his hand over his eyes and sighs theatrically.

Jim: It's too soft.

Jim sits up, pushing Blair off.

Jim: Where are the firm models?

Blair: Do you have any with anti-microbial treated fibers? The old man has allergies.

Jim: Maybe we ought to opt for those connected hospital beds with a massage button.

Blair: Jim, how gauche. It wouldn't work. The first time you messed with my controls...

Jim snickers. Blair blushes and stomps off to sit on a high mattress set.

Jim: You'd need a step stool, shortie.

Blair picks up the tag and starts reading aloud, inserting his own commentary.

Blair: Compromise? Soft yet firm. Optimal back support with the illusion of luxury. Silk/polyester, anti-microbial treated fiber. And look (points at tag) made in the good 'ole U. S. of A.

Blair lays down on his back, turns on right side, then stomach, then left, then back to his back. Blair sits up on knees, grabs Jim's waistband and pulls Jim down on top of him. The mattress rocks a bit.

Blair: Feels good. It's roomy. Solid as a trampoline.

Mister Gerswhin holds up the large price tag.

Mister Gerswhin: It's reasonably and affordably priced, too. Although, everything is affordable for you. I'll just go write up your sales ticket then.

Blair starts squirming and moves his hands down to cup Jim's ass.

Jim: Public indecency, heard of it?

Blair: The one law you haven't broken? Wanna see if we can get arrested?

Jim: I'm wise to you, kid. Sexual exploitation schemes aren't going to work on me.

Blair: You like this bed. Admit it.

Jim: Like any healthy male, I like friction.

Blair flips them over so Jim's on his back and Blair's knees are straddling his thighs.

Blair: This is our bed.

Blair leans down to kiss Jim.

Jim: All right, but I am picking the sheets.

Blair: You are not decorating with the colors of your favorite sports team.

They proceed to the cash register.

Mister Gerswhin: Your total comes to $3050.

Jim extracts a wad of cash from his wallet and extends it to Gerswhin but pulls it back as Gerswhin reaches for it.

Jim: Have them delivered by one. Blair never locks his door. Get rid of the old ones. Oh, and next time I drive out this way I plan on being able to tee off on my private golf course. Capice?

***

Jim, Where's Your Wallet?

Jim and Blair enter the Super K. Jim goes to fetch a shopping cart and Blair heads to the food counter and gets in line. Jim pushes the cart over and purposefully rams it into the back of Blair's legs.

Jim: I thought I told you no dilly-dallying, Chief.

Blair: Yeah and your selective hearing makes great for you not following your own orders. I'm hungry. We skipped breakfast if you remember.

Jim: I gave you a granola bar at my place, so unless your excuse for missing breakfast was that you were so traumatized by being molested by your mother-in-law that you lost your appetite, and I know it isn't, you have no reason to be hungry.

The man in line in front of Blair spins around to stare.

Blair: (to Jim) Blah, blah. (to man) She was an original hippie, free love, you know?

Man looks like he wishes he did know, turns around and places his order. He moves down to the end of the counter and gets a drink. Blair steps up to the counter.

Blair: I want a hot dog, a soft pretzel and a root beer. Jim, you want anything?

Iris is staring at Jim and hasn't entered Blair's order. Jim seems annoyed and embarrassed by her attention.

Jim: No. (to Iris) We're in a hurry.

Iris: Hot dog, Twizzlers, and a blueberry slushie?

Blair starts to protest but Iris has already rung in his order.

Iris: The fixings bar is to your left. It's $5.75.

Iris makes no move to fix Blair's order. Blair waits for Jim to pay. Jim sniffs the air and smiles at Iris.

Iris: Is there a problem?

Jim: Not yet, but there will be if you don't get Blair his hot dog. And he wanted a soft pretzel, not licorice. And you'd better make that a root beer.

Blair seems impressed Jim remembered what he ordered. Iris goes to fix the order. Jim lays a ten on the counter.

Jim: Chief? This kept man act is unbecoming.

Blair: Kept man? What are you talking about? Is it my fault the sight of you groping my mom was so disturbing that I forgot my wallet.

Jim: You always forget your wallet. You know, Blair, as I've told you before, Naomi is an attractive woman, but she's your mom. I get that. I respect it. I know groping. If you can control this jealousy I might even show my techniques later.

Iris returns with Blair's order.

Blair: He's old enough to be your grandpa.

Iris: I like older men.

Blair: He's going bald.

Iris: I think it's sexy.

Blair: His pants are too short and he wears white socks.

Iris: White socks are so erotic.

Jim: This is how you fend off the competition, Chief?

Blair: It's not working, is it?

Iris: No.

Jim waves good bye to Iris, grabs Blair's cup and takes it to the drink machine to fill it with root beer.

Blair: I don't share.

Iris: That's too bad. You're not so bad yourself. If you boys ever need a little spice, you know where to find me.

Blair takes his food and goes to where Jim's standing with his drink and the cart.

***

Darling, I'm the Alpha in This Pack

Blair pushes the cart to a stop in front of the Martha Stewart section.

Jim: Keep driving.

Blair: This is the linen section.

Jim: No, this is when I'll pretend I'm a homemaker and make millions fooling the masses section.

Blair: I'm no Martha Stewart fan myself, man, but these aren't too bad. Her home design fashion consultants department has all right taste.

Jim opens a pack of sheets and touches them.

Jim: They feel like burlap.

Blair: They're brand new. They get softer as you wash them. Which in our case will be frequently.

Jim: Next aisle. Who do I know on the East Coast who could bring her down?

Blair: Alex. Bet he'd love that assignment. Take the train to Connecticut and dispose of the pumpkin pie queen?

Jim moves on to the next aisle. Blair lingers over the Martha Stewart Collection a moment before moving on. Loud, musak version of teeny-bopper pop songs blares suddenly blares over loudspeaker. As he rounds the corner he doesn't notice Maggie and Megan looking at a display of picture frames.

Maggie: What's with the glum face, sweet thing?

Blair is happy to see them.

Blair: Maggie. Megan.

Jim comes out of the next aisle balancing a stack of henna, sunflower, denim, natural, and basil colored sheets and pillowcases. He tosses them into the cart and nods at the gals.

Jim: Fieldcrest Cannon. Two hundred and forty thread count. Ultra-soft sueded cotton sateen. We'll get the comforter from a catalogue. I want down.

Jim heads off toward the electrical section. Maggie and Megan eye the cart with interest.

Maggie: I never knew Jim could be so romantic.

Megan takes a few packs out and holds them up against Blair.

Megan: Sandy, these compliment your coloring perfectly.

Maggie: Wouldn't mind seeing you stretched out on those, naked, but Megan and I really don't have time to stand around and chat.

The gals toss the sheets back in the cart and move toward the health and beauty section. Blair picks up the henna pillowcases and holds a swatch of hair against it.

***

I Am Wolf, Hear Me Growl

Blair searches store for Jim. Jim aware that Blair is searching uses his sense to evade him. Jim heads for the tool section. Blair heads to the customer service office. Roy is playing nerf basketball when Blair enters his office. He offers Blair a high five, then continues his game.

Blair: Dude, you have to can this music. Trust me. Marketing studies have proven that music with a hip-hop jivin' groove inspires the customers to enter a subconscious frenzy that has them emptying their wallets in a splurge of unnecessary consumerism that pays homage to the gods of consumption. Dance mix number four'll get them bowing to greed.

Roy: My boss tanked that idea. Last time he busted me for playin' rap, and we're talkin' your watered down, studio put together, white boy can't say nothin' about nothin', I had overnight janitorial duties for a month. I look like a custodian to you?

Blair: Only of the golden gloves, my man.

Roy tosses the ball back and forth between his hands.

Roy: Best of five?

Blair: I ain't got no game. Take a chance. Glimmerman fires you, you can come work for me.

Blair takes the ball from Roy and sinks a basket. Roy changes the CD.

Cut to: The Bridal Registry

Megan: Surely they're prepared.

Maggie takes all the condoms off the rack and tosses them in their cart.

Maggie: You said practical. What's more practical to newlyweds than condoms?

Megan: I was thinking toaster.

Maggie picks a pair of satin leopard print boxers out from the cart and waves them in front of Megan.

Megan: They didn't have loincloths.

Maggie: I'll get the lube. You get some ponytail holders.

Cut to: The Wolf Sees All, Knows All

Blair: Can I borrow this? (gestures to the PA system)

Roy: What kind of contribution you gonna be makin' to the Roy job fund?

Blair: A better paycheck than what you're getting here.

Roy: Go ahead. I'll just type up my resignation letter.

Blair: (over PA) Yo, Jim, drop the locks. I'll swing over with the cart in a couple of minutes. Stay put.

Cut to: Bad Kitty

Jim is rubbing his foot that the lock fell on.

Jim: How does he do that?

Blair passes by the cash registers on his way to the outdoors section. Megan and Maggie are placing scarves, underwear, pjs, bathrobes, candles, condoms, and other goodies on the register belt. They try to conceal their purchases from Blair. Blair progresses to the outdoors section where Jim is checking out some bows. Jim tosses the locks into the cart.

Blair: Hey, careful, you're going to smash my crackers.

Jim places a small black hose with a big nozzle into the cart, away from Blair's crackers.

Blair: What's that?

Jim: Five hundred thousand BTU propane torch kit. I thought I told you not to dilly-dally. I can't take you anywhere.

Blair: Jim, I'm immune. If I didn't let you release your inner man you'd be moody, grumpy, and let's not forget, extremely bitchy the rest of the day. What are Maggie and Megan up to?

Jim: I do not use my senses to conduct unsanctioned surveillance.

Blair: Jim.

Jim: They bought you leopard spotted underwear.

Blair: They didn't.

Jim: Be grateful Kmart doesn't carry loincloths.

Blair: Seriously?

Jim: They have highly active imaginations.

Blair: If I got the loincloth, would that make you Cheetah?

Jim: Well, Lassie, they seemed to think you needed a dog collar.

Cut to: The Final Touches

Maggie and Megan are still having purchases rung in.

Megan: Hold up. Forgot something. Back in a jiff.

She grabs a basket from underneath the magazine stand. Blair and Jim are making their way to the smallest line, which happens to be the register by Maggie and Megan. They unload their cart as Megan comes rushing back with a basket full of romance novels. Jim and Blair are busy and don't notice. Megan and Maggie pay and exit.

Maggie: Should I point out the obvious? (pointing to the bag of books she loading in the trunk).

Megan: Sandy has an ongoing fascination with romance novels. He can exercise his creative license for the juicier parts when he reads Jimbo a bedtime story.

***

The Bachelor Party Collective

Maggie, Megan, Rafe, Simon, H., and Vince are gathered around two joined tables.

Megan: Absolutely not. It has to be romantic.

Rafe and Maggie exchange a look of amusement. Simon's annoying everyone by smoking.

Rafe: Not snarky enough you mean?

H: Our boy Blair ain't no randy confused male who needed the lady keeper of notes to turn his wily ways into some sweet juice.

Simon slaps H. on the head.

Maggie: Henry's right. Vickie and Chad's wedding may have been the soap opera wedding of all time...

Vince: Highest ratings, too.

Maggie: (rubs Vince's arm) ...but we aren't in Peninsula Cove.

Vince: Pine Haven. Peninsula Cove was the name of the town where the dashing, young gent, Charlie...

Simon: Everyone, hush up.

All heads turn his way. Simon pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket.

Simon: Vince, you're a man of...you're a man of something...Jim and Blair's wedding is not the place to insert nostalgic reflections of your past. Maggie, they need more than a Do you? I do.

Simon shoves the piece of paper across the table for Megan.

Simon: Daryl's enrolled in a poetry class this semester. This might be more to everyone's liking. Sir Phillip Sidney.

Rafe nudges Megan to start reading.

Megan: My true love hath my heart and I have his, by just exchange one for another given...mmm, yeah, lovely. Vince, don't screw it up by affecting a British air.

Rafe: I don't know, that's kind of personal. It'll embarrass Ellison.

H: Heck, Jim's shy, anything that involves making his private life public turns him red.

Maggie: Except Blair.

The group: Yeah.

Simon: You gals get any response on the guest list yet? H. needs numbers. I need numbers.

Maggie removes a notebook and looks it over.

Maggie: Kincaid, son a bitch; I'm assuming that's a yes. Brackett, hell yeah. That Colonel guy, what's his name?

Megan: Colonel Cutie, I believe.

Rafe looks wounded.

Megan: Ahem, Oliver. Colonel Oliver.

Maggie: Oliver, black ops mission pending; will send gift. Alan will be attending sans bitch. H., need any spare change?

H: Darlin', I'd do that skenky wench in non gratis.

Maggie: Rucker can't make it; island's besieged by a massive storm front. Zeller and Yuri are both occupied with hits. They said if they could squeeze off their shots clean they'd be here.

Simon adds one mark to his tally.

H: No fine and pretty ladies be attendin' this festive gala?

Megan: This is Jim's side. We thought it prudent not to invite his, uh, female friends.

Maggie: A trip to the hospital might dampen the celebration.

Simon: Okay, counting us and Naomi, so far the total is fourteen. Who's on Blair's side?

Megan takes out a notebook.

Megan: Roy.

Simon: That's it?

Megan: (defensive) Most of Blair's friends are women or Feds. I don't know the proper protocol or etiquette to apply in this situation.

Rafe: What about people from the culinary school?

Megan: Sandy's record keeping skills need polishing, all right?

Maggie: We could invite his father.

Everyone turns in her direction.

Maggie: Jim never believed Blair when Blair said it didn't matter, didn't want to know. He had some investigators explore the possibilities.

Vince: Nice fellow, that MacGyver.

Everyone swivels toward Vince.

Vince: It was before I found my calling.

Everyone is gaping in disbelief. Vince puffs out his chest.

Vince: I have a knack for detecting.

Rafe: As a tv detective. You're deft and brilliant observations were scripted.

Vince: I was at a crossroads...

Maggie and Megan: In a bottle.

Vince: ...and Jim put me to work.

Maggie: Finding Blair's dad?

Simon: Hold up. This MacGuyver? Does he know Blair is his son?

Vince: I might've decided the surveillance job he put me on wasn't challenging enough.

Maggie: No, Simon, Mac doesn't know.

Simon: So, let me enunciate slowly, you want to invite him to his son's wedding when he doesn't even know this son exits? Now why do I think that is not a good idea?

H: Simon's right. No one wants to deal with a pissed off Naomi and boy will she be pissed. Blair's got some sexy lady friends. This celebration has got to be havin' itself some women present.

Maggie and Megan each step on one of his feet.

H: Amber. No jealous associations there.

Simon changes his number to 15.

***

Banding Together-One More Comment and It's Crackerjack's For You

Blair: We should go back home and take that nap first.

Jim: This is our last stop.

They enter Crown Jewelers. Blair waves a greeting to Mr. Crown and heads over to where a cardboard aboriginal man is displaying jewelry indigenous to his homeland. Jim checks out the wedding band display case. Crown comes over.

Jim: I'd like to try one of those platinum bands in a nine.

Crown takes it out of the case. Jim tries it on. Waits a minute to see if he has a skin reaction. He examines it close for any flaws.

Jim: Wrap it up. Sandburg, get over here and pick out a ring. Blue Juice is televising the Wild Wave Extreme this afternoon.

Blair reluctantly leaves the festive display and approaches the wedding band counter.

Blair: McCarty's in the line-up?

Jim: My intel tells me he's close to finding out things he has no business knowing.

Blair: And you're what? Going to manipulate the ocean so that when it's his heat he has a career ending wipeout?

Jim: I somehow don't think his arrest would stick if it came to light that his source was the perp's husband. Nah, he can ride a tube like no one else on the circuit.

Crown comes back with Jim's box.

Crown: For you, sir?

Blair opens Jim's ring and looks at it. Then he looks at the aboriginal display.

Blair: Nix this. What we need, man, are tattoos. Something symbolic that signifies our devotion and commitment to each other.

Jim: You want me to have a ring tattooed on my finger?

Blair: Don't be ridiculous. That would look stupid. No, I was envisioning armbands.

Jim: And when we get old and start withering?

Blair: We'll wear long sleeve shirts. I can't wear a ring. It's not personal enough. Everyone wears rings. What's it symbolize really, when you think about it? The road to divorce I tell you, that's what it symbolizes. It doesn't even have to be armbands. You yin, me yang. Me, charm, You, tau. You, fire and air, Me, earth and water.

Jim: (to Crown) Size seven, same style.

Crown: Did either of you want an inscription engraved?

Blair: Don't wrap that up. I don't want that. I want something in shell. Coral maybe.

Crown: We aren't a tourist shop.

Blair: Jim's loaded, but if you don't carry anything like that, hey, I'm content with the dollar ninety-nine version I can pick up at Beach Blankets and Accessories. You don't have anything in Jade? Onyx? Something with some color? Oomph? Lapis lazuli?

Crown: You might want to try Antiquities. It's on Ballard Avenue. The only exotic items I keep in inventory are the aboriginal pieces on display.

Blair: Thanks. And I do like them, they just aren't really what I was looking for.

Crown writes up a sales slip for Jim. When Blair's not looking he slips something else in the package. Jim pays and they leave. They get in the car and drive towards Blair's place.

Jim: What are you looking for?

Blair: Something with spikes. A secret compartment for storing poisonous venom. A nuclear powered gemstone that's so bright it'll blind anyone who so much as flirts with you.

Jim: (pats Blair's thigh.) Something so stunning that every time I see it I zone on you?

Blair: (scoots closer to Jim so they are touching) Clever, huh?

Jim: Not really. Every time I look at you I hear a robotic voice in my head saying, Danger, Jim Ellison, danger, you are now approaching the Sandburg zone, danger ahead.

Blair: You really do love me, don't you?

Jim: Yes, Blair, I do.

Blair: (snuggles even closer) Ditto.

***

Houston, We've Lost Our Spacecraft

Rafe: I'm telling you they do. Vince, they do, don't they?

Vince: Of course they do. Are you saying they didn't?

Maggie: They could have forgot.

Rafe: Call Joel. He'll know.

Vince: And if they didn't?

Rafe: Joel's your man.

Megan: They can't get married with a forged marriage license. This is serious business, guys.

Rafe: I don't think they'd mind.

Megan: Well, I do.

Maggie: We don't know that they don't have one.

As the three continue fighting, Vince goes to the bar to get the phone. He dials.

Cut to: Why, It's A Lovely Afternoon

Jim and Blair are testing their new bed when the phone rings.

Blair: Block it out. I'll help.

Jim: That's helping.

Blair: Good.

Phone keeps ringing and no machine is picking up. It is distracting Jim.

Blair: Focus.

Jim: How can that not bother you?

Blair: I'm bothered in other ways.

Jim: And I'll fix that in a minute, I promise, but this could be important.

Blair: What could possibly be more important than love?

Jim answers the phone.

Vince: (o.s.) Heh, heh, sorry to interrupt the party, but we need to know if you remembered to get a marriage license.

Jim: Oh, shit.

Jim pushes Blair off of him, gets up, and starts getting dressed.

Jim: We're on our way. Thanks for reminding us.

Blair: We were on our way to a very pleasant state of bliss.

Jim: That was Vince. We need to head to city hall and get a license.

Blair jumps out of bed and starts getting dressed. He looks at the clock. It reads 3:25 p.m.

Blair: Oh, shit. It closes in thirty-five minutes.

Jim: Don't worry, Chief, I'll get us there in time.

Cut to: The Wedding Planners

Vince rejoins the bickering group and holds up a hand, demanding silence.

Vince: This reminds me of the storyline that had Charlie and Myrna eloping, only to find out the marriage didn't have a leg to stand on, legally or otherwise.

Megan: Is Myrna the one who lost her legs when a drunk driver hit her and Charlie's car on the way to the honeymoon hotel?

Rafe: Reality check. Do they or don't they have a license?

Vince: No, but they are currently making their way to city hall to get one. (to Megan) Yes, that was the one. Tragic, wasn't it?

Megan: Terribly so.

Maggie: All right, anyone have a line on Naomi?

Rafe: She's making the honeymoon arrangements.

Megan: Good God, who gave her that assignment?

Vince: (blushing) I did. She's traveled extensively, I thought she'd have the inside scoop on some of the finest vacation destinations the world has to offer.

Megan: Vince, she's most likely checked them into an underground ashram in a yak pasture in a country the yak isn't an indigenous animal.

Maggie: I already called Joel. He rented them a yacht. They're leaving for Bali right after the ceremony. Henry and Simon have food covered. Megan, you and Rafe have gift-wrapping detail. Vince, you're with me, we're picking up the out of town guests at the airport. We'll all meet up in Jim's backyard at 6:30.

***

The Church of Chaos

Simon is putting linens on the buffet table when H. comes out of Jim's garage struggling with his load. Simon quickly finishes his task and heads over to help.

H.: Thanks, man, these are heavy.

Simon: I said tent. I did not say bring me the goddamn ugliest, most atrocious green piece of canvas on poles you could find, did I? What the hell is that? I can't use that. This is a wedding, not a goddamn command tent for some motherfucking badass military shit. It's got camouflage netting for chissakes.

H: I be lookin' in there for an hour now and I be tellin' you it's all he have.

Simon: Nonsense. I've catered parties for him at the house. He had tents. Big white tents. Wedding tents.

H: Well, they not be there now. No use payin' time to worries about what we don't be havin'. It do the job.

Brackett and Kincaid pull up in a jeep. They get out and walk over to where H. is setting up the tent. They help him.

Brackett: Expecting an altercation of some sort this evening?

H: Not unless you plan on tauntin' Mr. Vodka with tales o' how you once took out his one-armed Russian friend with a pack of cards and cold tea.

Brackett: H, that hurts. You know I don't kill and tell. And I never leave signatures. There are no get out of jail for free cards in real life.

Kincaid: Who else's gonna be attending this shindig?

They've finished putting up the tent and head over to where Simon's setting up the cold foods portion of the buffet. Brackett snatches some food.

Brackett: Not bad. For a baker.

Simon: Your mama not teach you manners, fool? Get your hands off my food. You and Kincaid make yourselves useful and go set up the chairs and tables. Enough for fifteen.

Kincaid and Brackett walk towards the garage and H. helps Simon.

Kincaid: Useful? I don't recall volunteering to be useful.

Brackett: You think Kelso's coming?

Kincaid: He in town?

Brackett: Don't know, that's why I'm asking. I can see that our first order of business is to get a new intel department. Think we could recruit him?

Kincaid: Everyone can be bought for a price. Got any dirt on him?

***

Hold Your Piece

Jim and Blair are sitting on the front steps of City Hall. Jim is holding the marriage license.

Jim: I always knew.

Blair: Knew what?

Jim: About you. About us.

Blair: I know.

Jim: Did you?

Blair: You didn't kill me. That meant something.

Jim: I never cared about the restaurant you know?

Blair: I know.

Jim: You know a lot don't you?

Blair: Enough to get you here.

Jim: At last.

Blair: It was worth every second of agony.

Jim: Sweet talker.

Blair: Jim, you are okay with all of this, aren't you?

Jim: Marrying you? Yes.

Blair: Giving up your extracurricular activities for me.

Jim: Oh, that?

Jim hands Blair the marriage license but doesn't let go when Blair grabs a corner of it.

Jim: I may need some personal counseling on occasion. To overcome whatever withdrawal symptoms I may be suffering or what not.

Blair: Man, I've always wanted to take some psychology classes.

Jim: Extracurricular activities are replaceable. You aren't.

Jim stands and pulls Blair up, throwing an arm around him.

Jim: Let's get married, Blair.

***

Who Tosses A Gun

All guests have arrived and are awaiting the arrival of the grooms. In spite of Simon's protests they have all filled plates and are eating. After fuming a few moments he gives up the tirade and joins Joel. Vince is chatting with Naomi. Alan and Maggie are eating under a tree. H. and Yuri are vying for Amber's attention. Rafe is tailing after Megan who is double checking everything's completed.

Brackett: Your book's been off the bestseller list for three years. You planning on writing another one?

Kelso: No one read the first one, why would I write another one?

Kincaid: Our thoughts exactly. Ever miss the action?

Kelso: What action? I was an office puppy.

Brackett: And I suppose you're in a wheelchair because a bus hit you when you were crossing the street?

Kelso: I was riding my bike.

Kincaid kicks over his wheelchair and drags Kelso up, forcing him to stand. He lets him go and Kelso's still standing. Brackett picks up the wheelchair and rights it, gesturing for Kelso to sit.

Brackett: Here's our offer.

Megan, satisfied that everything is ready, kicks Rafe's feet out from under him and pounces, kissing him thoroughly. Alan and Maggie are sitting under a tree.

Alan: Yuri and I are negotiating a contract on Veronica.

Maggie: It's about damn time, handsome.

Naomi is standing with Vince at the makeshift altar.

Naomi: Really, Vince, you'll love India. You can clear up some of that karma and let go of all that television history that's burdening you.

The grooms arrive. They pause at the gift table.

Jim: I already told you what we're getting.

Blair: From Maggie and Megan. Maybe you'd better scan the rest of them.

Jim humors him and uses his senses to see if anything dangerous is in one of the boxes.

Jim: They meet safety standards.

Blair: Just one?

Jim: Okay, you can open mine.

Jim pulls out the extra something Crown slipped into his bag at the jewelry store.

Jim: Close your eyes and give me your hand.

Blair complies. Jim puts a bracelet made of shell on Blair's wrist.

Jim: Open your eyes, Chief.

Blair twirls the bracelet around his wrist.

Blair: He said he didn't have...

Jim: He doesn't usually. I ordered this months ago.

Blair: You sneaky bastard. Put yours on, we'll go get pronounced and we can start our honeymoon.

Cut to: Happy Ever After

The guests are involved in their own dramas and don't notice Blair and Jim's arrival in the backyard.

Jim: Let's get this show on the road, folks.

Vince waves them to the altar area. They go over. Everyone's attention is focused on the happy couple.

Vince: We are gathered here this evening...

Jim: You can skip that part.

Vince: Patience, Jim.

Blair: We're fresh out. Vince, Jim and I took vows last night, this ceremony is just a formality so could you fast forward to the 'by the powers vested in me,' part?

The guests boo and throw food at the grooms.

Simon: But Daryl picked out this poem.

Maggie: It's a great poem.

Megan: Fucking make you cry it's so great.

Blair turns around and faces the guests.

Blair: Guys, we appreciate everything you've done for us, but we've been waiting years for this, so if you don't mind?

Naomi: Blair Jacob Sandburg, that's rude.

Blair: Mom, everyone, I apologize for our rudeness. We'll make it up when we get back from our honeymoon. (turns around) Vince, please?

Vince: I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss each other.

Jim and Blair kiss. Naomi kisses Vince's cheek. Maggie and Alan Kiss. Rafe and Megan kiss. Amber kisses H. on the cheek. Simon gives Joel a cigar. Brackett looks around at all the love activity and offers a hand to Kincaid. They shake and then they each shake Kelso's hand, sealing their deal. The reception follows. Jim and Blair want to cut out.

Megan: You have to at least toss something before you leave. It's tradition.

Jim: Well I'm not wearing a garter belt and Blair doesn't have a bouquet.

Maggie: A gun. Toss a gun.

H: Yeah, yeah, awesome symbolism.

Blair: I'm down with that. Get the man a gun.

Everyone except Naomi takes out a gun, removing the ammunition and volunteering it for the job. Jim extracts his own. Everyone else puts his or hers away. Jim turns around and tosses it over his shoulder. Megan catches it. The grooms depart to the dock where they board the yacht and sail away into the sunset.

The End

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Author’s Acknowledgements: Thank you Patt for giving me the ideas for the story, and to everyone who wrote me requesting a sequel.