Well, now Chris HAD to be good. Otherwise, I just wouldn't know what to do with myself. Maybe crawl under my comforter and cry. Chris stood up humbly before the judges and belted out a tune, and I think it sounded good. I mean, it sort of sounded like childbirth at points, and sometimes I wondered if maybe I should FedEx him some Maalox, but it was all melodic and soulful, and that should be enough right? This guy has to be a shoo-in. Well, not so fast. Simon said no, and Randy, well, he was concerned that Chris might not have the emotion or charisma necessary. Uh oh. Could be the end of the road!

We never found out what the final tally was because we then cut to Chris's wife anxiously waiting outside. The crooner ambled out of the room quietly only to reveal the yellow slip under his cowboy hat. He made it! I didn't see that one coming! (sarcasm) Oh Chris, I wish I knew how to quit you!

Okay, now my favorite person of the entire night: Garet. Epitomizing the very definition of "cowpoke," Garet was an 18 year old from rural Wyoming (as opposed to metropolitan Wyoming) who lived in a town of four people (not including the mayor, who is most likely a rooster). Anyway, Garet traveled all the way to the auditions with his family, which included his nervous brother (C-C-Clint), his father, grandfather, and what I imagine was his younger brother, a.k.a. America's Favorite Lil' Cowboy.

Awwww.

At first glimpse, I thought Garet might be another one of these odd-lookin', atonal rejects who we'd all be snickering about the next day at the watercooler. But it turned out that there was much more to him (although, we were all still snickering about him at the watercooler). Not only did Garet live in a town of four, he had no formal vocal training. His only musical assistance came from, yes, his turkey.

"Sounds great, Garet!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Winklefeathers!"

Turns out that whenever our cowpoke sang by his lonesome dove self, a certain turkey would always come a-gobblin' up, hankerin' for front row seat at the Garet Cabaret. Rumor has it that the buzz on Garet is so strong, a sheep might stop by the next performance.

Anyway, Garet proudly (yet humbly) sauntered into the audition room, ready to test out the voice that had enchanted a thousand birds. Of course, singing for Simon, Paula, and Randy is quite different than singing for a turkey, at least appearance-wise, and as a result, poor Garet was shaking in his cowboy boots. You know, auditioning is very nervousing.

The judges asked Garet what he'd be singing, but the kid, shaking like a leaf -- nay, a paint mixer -- could barely get a word out. "I've only been singing in front of a turkey," Garet stuttered. I can't tell you how many times I've had to use that line. Luckily, Paula and Randy coaxed him along, telling Garet to take a deep breath and relax.

Steady... Steady...

With our curiosity now reaching unbearable levels, Garet finally began to sing, and hey, he didn't sound that bad. I mean, he was no constipated cowboy (props to you, Chris), but he wasn't terrible. All three judges recognized talent, but all agreed that at sixteen, Garet would really benefit from some vocal lessons. Kind of hard in a town of four. Then again, I hear there's a cow nearby that specializes in Brazilian jazz.

Anyway, Simon asked if Garet would be able to afford singing lessons, and our resilient singer bashfully laughed it off, saying probably not. Would Simon be reaching for the wallet? A rare charity case? Not quite. Instead, he gave the kid a yes, which was soon backed by Randy, and lo and behold, our favorite turkey crooner was headed to Hollywood! (Meanwhile, Paula had vetoed Garet, probably because she thought the other two would mock her for saying yes. You just know she was begging to change her vote.)

Well, Garet leapt out of the room, screaming at the top of his lungs. Yes, young man, you're this much closer to fulfilling your dream:

Later, we met a dimwitted man with a penchant for oversized pseudo-plaid prints. This was "Flawless," and he was an "Entrepreture... entrepreneur." And he also cleans houses! After a little dance montage, Flawless explained his business, Paradise Cleaning, to us: "The slogan for that is... that, uh... you come home with your home, uh, house smelling like... uh, looking and smelling like paradise, yes, that's it." Rolls right off the tongue!

We then met Flawless's intellectual equal in Ben Hosback, an inventor and trailblazer in the world of coaster design. Not only could Ben rock the scales with the flattest "La la la la la" this side of Ashlee Simpson, but he was also the patent holder for the "Cosmic Coaster," which was like a normal coaster, but without all that inconvenient simplicity!

Behold the Cosmic Coaster! (Idiot sold separately)

As you can see from the picture, the Cosmic Coaster is a larger, more cumbersome version of a normal coaster. Users must balance their drinks directly in the center of the raised coaster, lest a Cosmic Accident send your Cosmic Libation into your Cosmic Lap. Okay, so it wasn't the most logical invention in the world, but at least you could achieve the illusion of your drink floating! (Assuming you ignored the three posts supporting the coaster.)

Anyway, Flawless and Ben soon became fast friends, especially once they began talking business. "Cool, you're an entrepreneur, so you're very creative like myself," Ben said to the pajama'd one, who then wowed his buddy over with some marketing techniques.

Posted by B-side on January 20, 2006 6:23 AM