Props to Nathan for putting St. Clare, the patron saint of Television, in my office stocking. She is firmly positioned above the upcoming episode of Get Real. Let's hope she can do her stuff. My friend Trejo calls to see if I can do anything tonight. I look at St. Clare and say that I'm busy watching Get Real. He sounds sympathetic and asks where my boyfriend is. I tell him he's out having fun. Trejo asks when I'm up for parole. I tell him to call FOX. Trejo says he'll be hanging out with my boyfriend.
Previously on Get Real: Meghan likes her girlfriend's boyfriend. Oh yeah, they kissed. Mitch has a pretty project engineer. Mary is preggers. Gosh, that's like the same "previously" as last week, isn't it?
Welcome to the Very Special Holiday Get Real.
Fade in to piano that makes Richard Marx cry. Meghan and Clay are kissing in her bed. A door opens. Sound of a gasp. Clay and Meghan look up to see Ferret saying, "Meghan! How could you?" Ferret attempts some tears, but really she just inhales quite a bit. Of course the alarm goes off, waking Meghan from her three-way dream and she grumbles and groans as she gets out of bed. It's 5:32. Meghan runs on the empty streets around some sort of park. She looks to her right and sees she's not completely alone: Clay is running in the same abandoned park. She starts speeding up and checking him out, since he hasn't noticed her yet. She continues to run with her head turned towards Clay and I keep hoping that she'll smack a tree, but she doesn't. She has a perfect triangle of "sweat" on the front off her shirt, but her face is completely dry and her hair is firmly in a ponytail. She finds a fork in the empty path and runs alongside Clay and says, "Hey!" Clay, too, has the perfect triangle of "sweat" and not one blotch mark or sign of physical exertion anywhere else on his body. Clay asks if she always runs, and Meghan says that it was this year's New Year's resolution and she feels bad that she never got around to it, so she's picking it up now. Clay asks if she's okay because she's suddenly winded and she says she's fine. Wait. Make that "dying." They stop for a second so she can catch her breath. It takes three seconds. She says, "About the...uh, the thing, the other night?" "The kiss?" "Yeah." She says that whatever that was, it wasn't, because they shouldn't, so they won't because it's not what it is. I'm not even really paraphrasing here, but I didn't want to go back and rewind and see if I got the "dialogue" dead-on since it really doesn't matter. Clay seems to think that it's pretty cool that she's thinking about him. She says they are just friends. He agrees. They start walking again as Meghan asks, "What's with the Cracker Jack prize?" She's referring to the Ritz Cracker on a string that's around his neck. "When I was nine," Clay begins, as I release the Sigh Of A Thousand Holy-Moly Sighs, "I ran my first race. It was pretty pathetic. I couldn't even finish. At the end they gave out these little, fake, Olympic medals [ -- as opposed to the little, real, Olympic medals they gave to the nine year olds who placed in the race -- ] to everybody who completed the race. But I didn't get one. So, when I got home my dad made this and then he presented it to me." Meghan asks if that medal brings him good luck. He fingers it, looks at Meghan and says, "So far." (St. Clare, the patron saint of Television, lets out a small whimper.) Clay says that he's starting to "cool down" and suggests that they start running again. He takes off so that we can see Meghan's hair try and get out of the ponytail so it can pout, but since the scrunchie is too tight, Meghan tries to do it by lowering her head and jutting out her lip. It looks like a sneer.