"It's HERE."
"Nrg?" Ken, sprawled on the couch, opened his eyes halfway.
"The show! The DVDs!" Garett was anxiously tearing open the cardboard box.
Ken pushed himself up. "How'd you get 'em already? Did your agent send them?"
Garett was digging into the box. "No, I, uh, pre-ordered them. Amazon.com." He emerged, triumphant, holding up the DVDs. "Dude!"
Ken squinted at the package from across the room. "Who's on the cover?"
"That's Richard." Garett flipped the box. "But here I am on the-" He looked closer. "No, that's Rich again."
Ken levered himself off the couch, and headed over, scratching at his balls as he went. He peered over Garett's shoulder at the DVDs. "Hey, isn't that you?" He jabbed at the box with one blunt finger, almost knocking it out of Garett's hands.
Garett clutched the DVDs to his chest, glaring at Ken over his shoulder. "No touching! We talked about this."
"Sorry," said Ken, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't you, anyway, it was the black guy."
"Shhh," said Garett, still studying the back of the box. "There I am!" he said triumphantly.
"Where?" Ken was mouth-breathing on the back of Garett's neck.
"Right there! Sort of smushed between the shot of Rich with the face-paint and the do-rag, and the one of Rich on the helicopter." Garett smiled proudly. Not the worst thing in the world, to be trapped between two Burgis. "I mean, it's a shot of the three of us, but you know. Still."
"Huh." Ken yawned and stretched, then headed back to the couch, scratching his stomach. "They spelled your name wrong."
"No, they didn't!" No way. Uh-uh. He'd faxed his name to the Paramount rep five times. They'd told him it was all set. He was sure of it. He looked closer. "One R. I told them! One R." He'd told them that! He had! Just -
He looked bleakly down at the DVDs in his hand, and it looked back at him mockingly. Garrett Maggart.
"Dude. That's not fair." He looked over at Ken for backup, but Ken had already fallen back asleep on the couch, one hand still wedged in the bag of Funyons on his stomach. Garett bit his lip and sighed. "Seriously not cool."
Maybe he should call Richard.
Richard would probably just make fun of him.
Richard probably hadn't even preordered the DVDs.
Maybe he should just bring the discs over Richard's house tonight, and they could watch them together, check out the quality and stuff. There'd been a rumor that season two might have extras. Maybe he and Rich could riff back and forth, try out some commentary, get some practice in.
They'd have to kick Lori out, of course. It wouldn't make sense, having her there. She'd just throw things off. He probably wouldn't have to even explain that to Richard. He bet when he showed up with the DVDs, Richard would just tell Lori to go, and Garett would maybe only have to wait a few minutes out in the hammock.
Garett looked down at his misspelled name again and sighed. He tore the plastic wrap off carefully, and slid the discs out. Rich was on disc one. And disc two. Garett shut his eyes and held his breath, and flipped the last one over. He peeked down. And yeah, there was Rich, holding a gun out and staring balefully at him from disc three.
Oh, well. If Garett left the case at home, Rich wouldn't know about the name problem. It would be cool. Things were cool. This was just season one. Ten episodes! Season two would totally be the Garett (ONE R) version, for sure.
Garett pulled out the disk with the episode where he moved in with Jim. That was his favorite, next to "The Rig." He totally wouldn't tell Rich he'd watched one without him. Wouldn't want to hurt the guy's feelings.
~end~
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