Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2007-11-06 12:02 am
ptahrrific) wrote2007-11-06 12:02 am
Fake News: Five Times Jon Terrified Stephen (2)
Title: Five Times Jon Terrified Stephen (2)
Fandom: The Colbert Report
Rating: PG for innuendo
Words: ~3300 in total
Disclaimer: Two.
For the Report characters: They and their universe are property of Stephen Colbert, the other Report writers, and of course Viacom. Not mine. Sue me not, please.
And for the real people, the poem:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.
Notes: You remember this toss, I hope. It's mentioned far too little.
One |Two | Three | Four | Five
Five Times Jon Terrified Stephen
Two.
It was a bright October afternoon, the Report was gearing up to receive Barry Manilow at the interview table, and Stephen, as was his habit, dropped in on the Daily Show studio unannounced just in time for lunch. The door was locked; unfazed, he pulled out his key and let himself in.
Once inside, he started to get a little nervous. Usually by this point there were security guards rolling their eyes at him, and the sounds of show preparation from down the hall, and maybe an intern running by. But there was none of this.
In fact, there was no sound at all.
Stephen started running. He didn't pass a soul as he ran for Jon's office.
It was locked too, and he wasn't actually supposed to have a key for this one, but by this point he didn't care if he were found out; he pulled out the spare he had 'borrowed' and fumbled at the lock. His hands were shaking so hard that a minute passed before he got the door open.
The office was empty.
"Jon?" he said cautiously as he stepped in, just in case the man was hiding behind some piece of furniture, ready to jump out and surprise him. It was the kind of thing Stephen would have done.
No response.
He looked behind the couch, under the desk, in the shower (Jon's shower was a lot nicer than his -- the stall was roomier, the tiles less grungy -- which would have gotten Stephen angry if he weren't so preoccupied). Nothing.
There were no signs of foul play. The desk was a mess, but it was a Jon kind of mess, overflowing but organized clutter, not the wild disarray that would have resulted if a struggle had occurred. No, it was as if the host had simply left everything as it was and walked away.
"Jon!" shouted Stephen into the empty air as he left the office. "Jon? Somebody? Anybody? Answer me!"
Nobody did.
He lost track of time as he ran up and down the halls, all around the set, even out the back door that Jon used to sneak out after shows because he was a liberal elitist who thought he was too good for his fans, all without success.
The silver lining: nobody heard him scream when his phone went off.
He was in the middle of being embarrassed and angry at the caller when had the sudden thought that it might be Jon, and yanked the phone out; but no, it was only Bobby. "What?!" he snapped.
"Stephen, the show starts in half an hour. We need you back here, now."
That's right. He had a show. Which was important, no matter what had happened to Jon. (He had to keep telling himself that as he went through wardrobe and makeup, or he would have lost control altogether.)
"You're just in time," said Bobby, as Stephen walked onto the set (empty except for the staff; the audience hadn't been let in yet) in a slight daze. "Another thirty seconds and you would have missed the toss."
The toss?
Stephen fairly flew to his desk, heart pounding; he had a few seconds to compose himself before the feed cut in, and the blissfully familiar voice rang out across his set: "Welcome back to the show! Before we go, as always, we check in with our good friend Stephen Colbert at The Colbert Report. Stephen!"
"Jon, where are you? Where are you!?" shouted Stephen, leaning forward, clawing at his desk for support.
"Stephen, we're -- we're -- we're in Ohio, for the week, it's..." stammered Jon--
--and Stephen remembered, he'd been told about this--
--it was planned--
(--thank God--)
"Oh," breathed Stephen, feeling his heart start to beat normally again. "Oh, okay. Hey, can I use your shower, in your office?"
Fandom: The Colbert Report
Rating: PG for innuendo
Words: ~3300 in total
Disclaimer: Two.
For the Report characters: They and their universe are property of Stephen Colbert, the other Report writers, and of course Viacom. Not mine. Sue me not, please.
And for the real people, the poem:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.
Notes: You remember this toss, I hope. It's mentioned far too little.
One |
Five Times Jon Terrified Stephen
Two.
It was a bright October afternoon, the Report was gearing up to receive Barry Manilow at the interview table, and Stephen, as was his habit, dropped in on the Daily Show studio unannounced just in time for lunch. The door was locked; unfazed, he pulled out his key and let himself in.
Once inside, he started to get a little nervous. Usually by this point there were security guards rolling their eyes at him, and the sounds of show preparation from down the hall, and maybe an intern running by. But there was none of this.
In fact, there was no sound at all.
Stephen started running. He didn't pass a soul as he ran for Jon's office.
It was locked too, and he wasn't actually supposed to have a key for this one, but by this point he didn't care if he were found out; he pulled out the spare he had 'borrowed' and fumbled at the lock. His hands were shaking so hard that a minute passed before he got the door open.
The office was empty.
"Jon?" he said cautiously as he stepped in, just in case the man was hiding behind some piece of furniture, ready to jump out and surprise him. It was the kind of thing Stephen would have done.
No response.
He looked behind the couch, under the desk, in the shower (Jon's shower was a lot nicer than his -- the stall was roomier, the tiles less grungy -- which would have gotten Stephen angry if he weren't so preoccupied). Nothing.
There were no signs of foul play. The desk was a mess, but it was a Jon kind of mess, overflowing but organized clutter, not the wild disarray that would have resulted if a struggle had occurred. No, it was as if the host had simply left everything as it was and walked away.
"Jon!" shouted Stephen into the empty air as he left the office. "Jon? Somebody? Anybody? Answer me!"
Nobody did.
He lost track of time as he ran up and down the halls, all around the set, even out the back door that Jon used to sneak out after shows because he was a liberal elitist who thought he was too good for his fans, all without success.
The silver lining: nobody heard him scream when his phone went off.
He was in the middle of being embarrassed and angry at the caller when had the sudden thought that it might be Jon, and yanked the phone out; but no, it was only Bobby. "What?!" he snapped.
"Stephen, the show starts in half an hour. We need you back here, now."
That's right. He had a show. Which was important, no matter what had happened to Jon. (He had to keep telling himself that as he went through wardrobe and makeup, or he would have lost control altogether.)
"You're just in time," said Bobby, as Stephen walked onto the set (empty except for the staff; the audience hadn't been let in yet) in a slight daze. "Another thirty seconds and you would have missed the toss."
The toss?
Stephen fairly flew to his desk, heart pounding; he had a few seconds to compose himself before the feed cut in, and the blissfully familiar voice rang out across his set: "Welcome back to the show! Before we go, as always, we check in with our good friend Stephen Colbert at The Colbert Report. Stephen!"
"Jon, where are you? Where are you!?" shouted Stephen, leaning forward, clawing at his desk for support.
"Stephen, we're -- we're -- we're in Ohio, for the week, it's..." stammered Jon--
--and Stephen remembered, he'd been told about this--
--it was planned--
(--thank God--)
"Oh," breathed Stephen, feeling his heart start to beat normally again. "Oh, okay. Hey, can I use your shower, in your office?"
no subject
(Oh, before I forget- I left a comment at thedailyview a few days ago- I wasn't sure if you'd seen it yet.)
no subject
This was a situation with no actual danger, but of course Stephen didn't know that.
(Haven't seen it. Will get to it soon.)
no subject
(Okay, thanks.)