That's right, I was assaulted by the American Idol stand-out. I was at a bar in a small New Hampshire town, having just come from an exclusive brunch with Barack Obama and about thirty other people. At the bar, I made my way over to the box of juke, and found the most amazing song ever: Billy Ocean's "Loverboy".
As the song started, I turned to the bar to signal the bartender to pour me another mimosa, when I was tackled from behind. I tried to get back up, but this figure was upon me, reigning blows. It was Taylor Hicks... only it wasn't...
It looked like him, only bigger, and greener. His gray blazer was torn to the point that it was only a tiny vest on his gross pectoral muscles. Someone scooped me under the armpits and dragged me out into the parking lot. It was Randy.
"Damn it, dawg, why did you have to do that?"
"Do what?"
"Whenever someone plays "Loverboy" in front of Taylor Hicks, it sparks this uncontrollable rage. You're lucky to be alive."
"That's hot."
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