Everybody stresses out at the sound check because basketball court acoustics are no good, and all the fans and setup guys and sports people stare at them like a freakshow, because what this is, is a freakshow, and everybody knows it. Rich fucks up the words again, and Katie smiles kindly and encouragingly at him. Chris gets angry and freaked, and Rich wigs out in the backstage area, and the music goes crazy wild about it like on The Apprentice, so you know we're deferring the only thing that's going to happen, ever for another week.

So next week? What on earth do you think is going to happen? They're going to get booed. Obviously. It's going to be fucking awful, and they're going to blame poor doomed Katie. They will probably be chased through the streets of Orlando by wild dogs, framed for a couple of murders, steal a car and lead a high-speed chase to Disneyland, and hold the next generation of Mickey Mouse Club kids hostage before being shot down in a hail of bullets. Chris will blame Bryan's alcoholism with his last breath. Bryan will climb to the top of a tower, swatting biplanes out of the sky, with Jeff in his arms. He'll eventually be talked down by Lance Bass, who will promise him they will be astronauts together, but he'll finally be shipped off to rehab in Oklahoma, where he belongs. Rich will be taken into custody, and he and Miss Katie will develop a pen-pal relationship while he's on the inside which will blossom into passion once she's sufficiently forgotten what he looks like. When he comes out in five to ten, they'll try to make it work, but eventually it'll fall apart. She'll shave her head and start attacking paparazzi with her umbrella, screaming, "Superlook! Make it work! Work it out! Sureshot! Sureshot! Sureshot!" And I'll get a tattoo of Chris Kirkpatrick's long-gone braids, and that tattoo will read, "Never Forget." MAN BAND!