TATER

I  awoke abruptly to the feel of a tongue on my cheek, and felt the hot breath of my excited pup, letting me know it was time for the doing of business, to be followed in no uncertain terms, by a dog biscuit.  I let out a sigh of relief, thankful the dream I had been enduring, was finally to become a distant and cloudy recollection.  It had all started with such brilliant promise, only to derail horrendously, resulting in my utter humiliation on national television.

I met this bloke, Daniel Craig, at a Caribou Coffee shop somewhere in my dreamscape of Metropolisville, and he commenced to chatting me up.  He confessed his loneliness, being new to town, and was really looking for some "company".  Being ever so nuanced and clever in my dreams, I immediately picked up on his desire to sleep with me, uttered a witty and brilliant retort, and within five minutes we were miraculously opening the door to the bedroom of my amazingly roomy, and impeccably designed, Manhattan loft. 

He was upon me at once, all hands and eagerness, whispering his intentions, and telling me of his desires.  He told me that when he saw me, he had hoped for this very moment... and this is where things started to get, well... strange. 

"How could James Bond, possibly find me attractive?  I am at best, a 004 to his 007, on the seven point scale."

Instead of enhancing my performance, his fervent grinding and praise only lead to my inability to accept this godly gift from the universe.  I knew I had to try, but I also knew that I had little chance to fulfill this man's licentious needs, and become the source of his unending affection and cravings.

That is when the cheers started.

I looked up frantically as Daniel and I were coming to a tense finish, to see hundreds if not thousands of hands waving in the air.  I saw placards with our names emblazoned on them being held aloft by teeny boppers, middle aged housewives, Gay couples holding hands, and even a biker and celebrity chef or two.  We fumbled the bed sheets about us and stood to signal our conclusion, eyes and mouths open wide in our surprise, as we looked out at the sea of people clapping and whistling.  The spotlights were signaled, and there to my horror, sat the three judges of the apocalypse enshrined in their leather backed executive thrones.  Randy, Paula, and Simon, laughing and smiling amongst themselves, as they waited for the audience reaction to wind down.

"Yo,....Yo, Yo Dawg!  I gotta be honest and tell you it wasn't my favorite performance!  DUDE!  Yo dawg, listen up yo.  It was just alright for me, dude.  Honestly?  Your erection started out okay, but got a little pitchy towards the middle and end.  I give you MAD PROPS for your partner choice, yo, but Daniel's a bit out of your league.  If your gonna do Daniel, Dawg, you gotta BRING IT!  It was a solid effort, but it left me a little flat dude."

"Uh, okay Randy.  I guess I can see what you mean, I was a little nervous.  I didn't pick the partner, It was like he picked me.  I just had to do it, you know?"  I defensively replied.

"I'm going to have to disagree with Randy."  (crowd cheers) "I thought your erection was fine, and that your technique was star quality!  You may have been a little nervous, and slightly pitchy once or twice, but I gotta tell you...you made up for it in, by, uh, the color of your heart and desire...it was a beautiful rainbow, honey...I could sense your passion...like purple clouds of joy...I just love you, and want you to know that you're going to make it no matter what.  It takes alot of courage to open yourself up on stage, and be vulnerable and horny at the same time, in front of millions.  I just think you are huggable and scrunchy, and I want your plaster bust on the hood of my Mercedes!"

"Thank you???"

"What absolute rubbish Paula!  What does that tripe even mean, for christsakes?  Look Tate,  this just wasn't your best performance.  This is the top twelve, and if you can't summon up your best performance, you are not going to make it. (boos from the crowd, with some mixed laughter).  Oh do shut up!  I am stating my opinion.  Look,  frankly I thought your partner choice was dreadful, your performance was nervous and hesitant, I don't even think you really reached climax!  It was karoke sex, and frankly I found it amateurish and boring.  It was like watching a bloody high school musical in Missouri, directed by the driver's ed teacher.  I think your partner outclassed you, and that your entire performance was entirely forgettable."

"Okay Simon.  I guess I can see your point, I kinda thought Daniel was out of my league as well-"

"I thought you were gre-a-t!  Simon's a bit grumpy cause he's not getting any!"  *chuckle chuckle*

"Thank you Ryan, but I think Simon had a point, but it's like my dream, ya Know?  Might as well go big or go home!"

"You did go BIG! Ha Ha Ha!"

"Oh my God, Seacrest!  What the fuck?  Stop licking my face!!!"

If you want to vote for Tater, dial 877 555 5555 and punch in 0004....