LOST IN GAME SHOW HELL
 
     So I'm in L.A. and I finally get to be a contestant on Wheel
of Fortune,  which is pretty much a dream come true for me.  I show
up for the taping and  look over my opponents.  I'm in the coveted
middle position and on my left is some big fat North Carolina white
trash woman with a huge mole on her chin.  I am strangely drawn to
her.  She is so white trash that when we're in the  courtesy room
before the show starts I see her reach into her purse and pull  out
a roll of toilet paper to blow her snotty nose on because she's too 
goddammed cheap to buy one of those individual packs of Kleenex. If
she beats me I know I will kill her.  
     So at this point I figure I've got it made.  Then I look to my
right.  It's Hannibal Lecter.  Jesus Christ.  What the hell is this
shit?  So I turn to him and say "Hannah," because I know that
really pisses him off, "why aren't you on Jeopardy or something
like that?"  He gives me this look like I'm some kind of turd and
says, "On Jeopardy, assuming I answer every question correctly, get
every Daily Double and bet everything each time, the most I can 
win is $214,400, chump change in my opinion.  Whereas on Wheel. .
."      
     "Okay, okay, you've made your point."
     "Besides, Vanna White is to die for."
     Now Lecter was talking my language.  I was thinking this might
work out after all.
     The game started and the first puzzle was 'Internal organs'. 
Shit.  '------ -- ----------' was the puzzle.  Before he even spun,
Lecter started  nodding his head in that annoying way of someone
who thinks he knows everything and how could you not see it, it's
so obvious.  So he spun carefully and picked the letter 'S', of
which there were three in the puzzle.  He spun a few more  times,
never missing a letter, and finally guessed, "Islets of
Langerhans."   Which of course was right.  He looked at me, smiled
and said, "Not as vitamin-rich as the liver, but if prepared
properly, perhaps in a light cream sauce. . ."  He looked
distracted so I turned to the mole-woman and she spit some brownish
goop onto the wheel which Vanna promptly toweled off.  Now it was
my turn.  I'd show old Lecter.  The puzzle was 'Now-discredited
psychiatric  theories.'  Shit.  '------'s ------ -- ----- ----- ---
--------'.  I spun the  wheel and hit a bankrupt.  Great.  The
mole-woman spun, landed on the $1000 and nodding her head in that
same excruciating Lecter fashion said 'Z'.  Sajak did a double-take
and said, "Was that T?"
     "No.  Z."
     "P it is then."
     "No.  Z"
     "You're certain?"
     "Z."
     So now it was Lecter's spin.  He said, "I'd like to solve the
puzzle,  Pat."
     "But you have no money."
     "I know that.  It's a defensive move.  May I solve the
puzzle?"      
     "Of course."
     "Piaget's theory of early child development."
     I just said, "How?"  and Lecter looked at me, tapped his
forefinger to his temple a few times, arched his eyebrows and said,
"I know how Merv thinks."      
     So I didn't win shit.
     But next week I'm on Jeopardy and I'm feeling pretty good
about my chances.  Until I see that Lecter is back.  And he looks
hungry.  I say, "But I thought you couldn't make--"
     He shook his head and said, "I'm not doing it for me.  I'm
here for you."  He smiled and I had to change my shorts.  
     We started the first round and Lecter chose first.  The
category was  'Cthulu' (pronounced K'thooloo).  And Lecter went for
the $500 space.  The answer was 'When Cthulu calls, he calls..."  
   "Collect," replied Lecter.
     "Who the hell is Cthulu?" I said, under my breath.  
     Dweeb next to me says, "Old Norse god of ultimate evil. 
Pretty obscure."      
     "Eat shit, suckwad," was the cleverest thing I could think of. 
     Then Alex said, "Pick again."
     But Lecter said, "Now Alex, you remember our agreement?  Quid
pro quo.  I am going to ask you a question.  And do not lie to me,
for I shall know if you're lying."      
     "It's a little unusual, but ask away, Dr."
     "You are 43 years old and live with you're mother, correct?" 
     "I'm Canadian," said Alex, defensive.
     "Yes or no."
     "Yes."
     "I, of course, ate my mother.  Then, I killed her."  Lecter
laughed at some private memory.  Your mother--"
     "My mother--"
     "is a whore whose legs go up faster than Jean Claude Van
Damme's."  Lecter laughed again, marvelling at his own witticism. 
     The game continued, until Final Jeopardy.  Lecter had some
$107,000.  I had $200, which during a commercial Lecter told me he
let me win so there would be a Final Jeopardy, giving him a chance
to double his cash.  So the category  came up, and it was "RichH's
early adolescence."  Finally, I felt good.  I looked over at
Lecter, who was writing down his question already,  before they
even showed us the answer.  I, despite my confidence in the 
category, found myself looking over his shoulder to see what Lecter
had written down.  They showed us the answer and I wrote down my
question.  Alex asked what I had written and my question was, "What
are pierced labia?"  "Correct," said Alex, and my score doubled to
$400.  Then we looked at  Lecter's.  He also had 'Pierced labia'. 
     "I'm sorry, Dr., but you didn't phrase it in the form of a
question, which means if you wagered more than $106,600, RichH is
our new Jeopardy  champion.  He had bet it all, so I won.        Oh
boy, $400!  Now I could do anything.  I was standing on top of the
world.  I was somebody.  I had finally arrived.
     Then Lecter ate my spleen.