Beauty and the Geek: The Preview

by Creedog VanDrey

 

Category: Beauty and the Geek

Genre: Reality, Humor

Rating: PG

Language: English

Summery: This is a social experiment.  We take seven of our geeky characters and seven of our beautiful characters, and put them in a mansion, to see who could become a whole lot more (and win $12,500 each because this is a reality show, duh).

 

A/N: This is not the actual story, but an excerpt, written in block format, which serves a double purpose.  On the once hand, it acts as the “preview commercial” for the series, which will be in script format (not currently allowed on FanFiction.Net).  The other purpose is to give a better portrait of my characters, physically and emotionally, which requires a level of detail that script formatted is not well suited for.

 

Beauty and the Geek: The Preview

 

What you’re about to see is a social experiment, designed to find out if seven beautiful women and seven geeks can help each other to become a whole lot more…

 

Sitting in the non-descript interview room is Anna Ossey, a smiling, 21-year-old woman, about five-foot-six, originally from Blue Diamond, Nevada, a suburb of Las Vegas.  Her bright copper-red hair flows to mid-neck where it’s been curled to frame her face.  Light freckles can be seen against the fair skin of her face, adorned with crystalline jade-green eyes and a soft nose.  She is fidgety as she sits in a chair.  She wears a simple white tee-shirt, a denim skirt, white ankles socks, and orange-and-white tennis shoes.  Beside her is a Tri-Delta handbag.

 

Facing the unseen interviewer, she starts her spiel, “Right now, I’m just a waitress, and a student at University of Colorado-Boulder, but—you’re gonna laugh and misquote me or something—but my goal is to be like Paris Hilton or something.  You’re laughing!”  She laughs, too, her white skin turning pinker.  “Stop it!”  She regains her composure and in a calmer tone continues, “I’d like to be a socialite, not ‘cause I don’t like work, but because I’m just a social person.  Maybe I’ll be a professional party guest or something, I don’t know.”  At this point she uncrosses her legs, but she quickly recrosses them, realizing that she’s wearing a skirt.  Almost accusingly, she tells the camera more than anyone else, “And, no, there’s no sex video of me out there.”  Without looking down, she knocks lightly on the wooden chair.  Again, she loses composure before breaking into a breathy fit on soft chuckles, “Stop judging me!” 

 

“Who’s the Secretary of State?”

 

“Oh, come on, I doubt Bush even know that.  Can I have a hint?  Is he on one of the dollar bills?”

 

 

 

The next occupant of the plain room is Josh Lane, a 28-year-old man, about five-foot-nine, whose hometown of Gainesville lies on the Missouri side of the Missouri-Arkansas border.  His medium-brown hair is cut fairly short, too short to lie flat, but too long to stick up without quite a bit of gel, which is the case.  He has a very rectangular body: round shoulders, narrow chest, and a rounded stomach.  He wears a dull red-orange, short-sleeve polo shirt and dark khaki pants, with business casual brown deck shoes to match.

 

He starts speaking in an underconfident tone that states he’s not quite sure how to begin, “Yeah, I’m Josh.  I organize professional LAN parties mostly, and I usually part-time with some Sys-Admin stuff when I can.”  Without pausing he continues, “I also build computers for people, as well.  In fact, I’m listed in the Guinness Book of World Records for ‘Most Powerful Computer Built Inside of a NES game console,’” he states in a proud tone.  “You can special-order them off my website.  I’m also currently working on several RPG’s, but I haven’t found a company who interested yet,” he laments. 

 

“When’s the last time you had a date?”

 

“I had a blind date once in college…”  He pauses for a long time after this.

 

 

 

Twenty-two-year-old Constance Burgundy sits in the chair with her legs crossed and her hands on her knees, posing.  She smiles, her hazel eyes sparkling above her small, aristocratic nose.  The young woman is a petite five-foot-three, with a rather slight frame, well-hidden under a merlot-colored knee-length skirt and a sleeveless, faux-leather bodice-vest.  Her mahogany-brown hair flows uninhibited to her shoulders.  As she tilts her head back and forth, silver comet-themed pendant earrings flash light reflected from the overhead fluorescent lights.

 

With only the slightest trace of a Manhattan accent, she comments in a voice full of energy, “I’m a twit, and I’ll be the first to admit it,” she jokes.  “I’m a stage actress.  Because of my looks, I’m always cast as the eccentric, lovesick young lady, which is fine, because that’s exactly who I am anyway!” she comments with a none-too-austere flair of her arms and another child-like giggle.  “I’m kind of trying out for this show to get my name out, though at the same time, I’m afraid I’ll make fool out of myself on national TV.”  She pauses for a moment, pensively, before she admits, “Oh, wait, I take that back.  I don’t think I’m afraid of that after all.”  She puts on a smirkish half-smile and waits for the confession to simmer.

 

“What gases make up the atmosphere?”

 

“Which one?  There’s more than one… or something.  Oxygen.  How else could we breathe?  And maybe some carbon…” she pauses to make sure she’s picked the correct word, “…dioxide, because if it were monoxide, it’d set off all our smoke detectors.”

 

 

 

The next interviewee, Jolie Rosslyn, hailing from the Atlanta, Georgia suburb of Stone Mountain is even more petite than Constance, not an inch over five feet, though with a slightly fuller frame, which is hardly over-proportionate.  Her hair is a medium golden brown hair with heavy golden blonde highlights, which mesh together brightly.  This young woman of twenty-three years wears a rose-colored crochet top and a dark magenta flair skirt over white sandals.  She wears a silver sorority pendant around her neck.

 

She speaks in an airy-but-straight Georgian accent, “I’m a professional tutor.  My specialty is françias,” she smiles softly.  “I like working with younger kids, middle school for example, the most, because I’m five foot tall and I hate having everyone towering over me.”  Her voice, while full of emotion, remains solid and controlled.  “It’s not a fear thing, ‘cause most guys are terrified of me because they think I’m so pretty.”  She rolls her eyes and sighs, but her calm demeanor quickly returns.

 

“Maybe use it to seduce a guy on the show?” the male interviewer prods her.

 

Genuinely offended, she snaps sharply, but her voice still remains even, “What kind of girl do you think I am?”  After a quick pause, “Oh, like Erika!”  She gives a short half-chuckle before enunciating her reply, “Yeah, no.”

 

“Is a whale a mammal or a fish?”

 

“A mammal.  I’m pretty and I’m sociable; I’m not stupid.”

 

“Which is greater, two-fifths or five-eights?”

 

“You’re not allowed to ask me math questions.”

 

 

 

Matt Forrester is a five-foot-ten, 25-year-old young man, with a thick mane of medium brown hair, cut short and gelled.  He wears casual khaki cargo pants, a camo-patterned tee-shirt, broken-in heavy-duty hiking books, and a black outdoor digital watch.  His skin is naturally tanned and his body seemingly fit.  He has a strong nose, a goofy grin, and sits comfortably with one armed draped around the corner of the chair back.  The Nalgene bottle sitting on the floor behind him features a SMU sticker, telling of his Plano, Texas origins.

 

He starts speaking in simple tenor, “I’m an Eagle Scout, which I really don’t think makes me geeky, but I recall you had an Assistant Scoutmaster on the show, so whatever.”  He grins again.  “I do have an IQ of 128, which is pretty good,” he comments as modestly as possible.  “My real first name is ‘Lawrence.’  Do with that what you will,” he jokes reluctantly.  “I’ve had girlfriends, but there’s no way I could walk up to a girl, like in a bar, and ask her out.”  He tone adds the question: Is that normal?

 

 

 

Another young man, Chris Mariner, this one only five-foot-five, sits in the interview chair.  He has a somewhat Mediterranean look, with very dark brown hair, and light-tanned olive skin.  His unstyled hair is worn thick and in a medium-long style, straight yet with the bangs curving away from his brow, the sides flowing over the ears, and curling up in the back.  He has a prominent nose and dark, golden eyes.  His attire is as casual as the last contestant: dark jeans, a denim short-sleeve shirt over a white tee-shirt, and white tennis shoes.  He sits with his legs crossed at the ankles, his feet retreating under the chair.

 

His voice is a low bass, Southern but without a twang, “I’m a computer programmer, just completed my Masters in Computer Science from Georgia Tech.  As I recall, Eric the programmer was gone by Episode 1 of Season 1, so that’s not a good precedent.”  He briefly smiles, “I’m an Eagle Scout; is that geeky?  Shawn was, but he lasted longer, so that’s good.”  He sighs before giving an admission, “My first date was at 17, and I’ve yet to kiss a girl on the lips…”  His voice upturns, “…like Richard.”  He again turns back to the camera, as if expecting it to chuckle.  “Wow, I’m more of a geek than I thought!”

 

“What’s the most fashionable outfit that you have?”

 

“I have a $150 tuxedo.”

 

 

 

The subsequent interviewee is Oakleigh Daniels, a 27-year-old woman, five-seven, with shoulder-length, loosely curly auburn hair.  Over a shapely body, she wears a maroon, draped-neck sleeveless top, a pair of black flair pants, and black dress clogs.  Her stylish outfit tells of her hometown of Santa Monica, California.  Her legs crossed, she begins in a very serious, cultured tone, “Let’s get one thing straight: I do look good in a bikini, but I am not a total ditz nor am I anorexic.  I exercise and eat right to maintain a good figure.”  Her tone quickly becomes much lighter as a broad smile adorns her face, “However, I’d be lying to you if I didn’t admit that I am completely celeb-obsessed.  Currently, I’m trying to a get a job as a P.A. for some actor or actress.  I thought this be good P.R., you know?”

 

“What is the diameter of the earth?”

 

“Well, it’s about three thousand miles from LA to New York.”  She pauses as she uses her finger to draw in the air.  “Can I have a map?”

 

 

 

Kayley King, at 22 years old and five feet, four inches, leans back in the chair, crosses her legs, and adopts a sultry look on her heart shaped face, framed by straight ash blonde locks.  She wears a lavender silk blouse with wide, split sleeves.  Her shapely legs peak out of the similarly split, white, calf-length skirt.  She wears pastel-red stilettos with an unusually short 2-inch heel.  But as she begins to speak, the sultry look disappears and a warm smile takes its place.  Her voice begins as a soft Louisiana accent, “I was the first runner-up in last year’s Miss Louisiana pageant.  I currently studying to become a vet because… well, I like kitties.”  She giggles for a few seconds, before beginning again, “On the side, I do model for local magazines.”

 

The ever-prodding interviewer inevitably asks, “Nude?”

 

At once, mock contempt and a much thicker Cajun accent fill her voice, “Once.  And it was for an advertisement, not a girlie magazine, and I didn’t show anything.”  A few seconds pass, which Kayley takes as an awkward silence.  She defends herself, “Vet school is expensive!”  Another silence passes, which Kayley takes to be scrutiny, and admits unprovoked, “And so are clothes.”

 

“Who is Francisco de Goya?”

 

“He was a Mexican novelist, right?  No, no, no!  He assassinated Woodrow Wilson and that’s what started World War II.  I think.  The Nazis had something to do with it, too.”

 

 

 

James Rott, the five-ten, 25-year-old native of Tulsa, Oklahoma, adjusts his position in his chair.  He runs his hair through his conservatively cut, straw blond hair and removes his reading glasses and slips them his breast pocket.  He wears comfortable fit blue jeans over inexpensive, brown work boots and a Calvary Baptist Church youth group tee-shirt.  Sky-blue eyes look up, as if to ask if the camera is ready. 

 

With a clear and simple tone and a small grin, he states, “I would describe myself as a ‘perpetual academic.’  I’m an assistant professor of classical studies and private tutor at University of Tulsa, where I’m about to start my second Masters in Religious Studies with a concentration in Biblical Archeology.”  With a chuckle to himself, he adds, “Yes, I was one of those people who enjoyed going to school.  And, no, I haven’t grown out of it.”

 

“Is Madonna married?”

 

“Yeah, to Joseph of Nazareth,” he jokes.  “If it didn’t happen before 1900, I’m not going to be 100% sure of it.  Uh, she’s got a kid, but that means nothing in Hollywood.  I have no clue,” he finally admits.

 

 

 

Her natural hair color is not the light beige blond that it is now.  While the dye job is professionally done, the color is obviously the champagne blond of many starlets.  She wears a tight, short-sleeve blouse over her ample bust, showing an inch of her midriff and the fabric outlining her brassiere.  She wears jeans shorts which are fairly respectable, despite revealing her shapely legs.  Aubrey Caine, 25, five-foot-five, from Miami Beach, Florida, displays a confident, if not flirty smile. 

 

After flipping her hair, she begins her speech, “My role model is Ginger from Gilligan’s Island.  Just her whole persona; I really relate to her.  I’m not an actress, though.  I work sales at Champagne Threads, a woman’s clothing line in Florida.  It’s halfway between fashion and business kind of job, where I can use my br—”  She abruptly stops mid-sentence, about to use a word she doesn’t intend to.  She finishes her sentence with more caution, “…looks to my advantage.”   As an afterthought, she prompts, “You got the picture of me in a bikini, right?”

 

“Who is Isaac Newton?”

 

“I’ve got it narrowed down to a president, an army dude, an artist, a writer, a scientist, or a philosopher from either Europe or the United States sometime between… the Fall of Rome and now.  Or maybe before the fall of Rome.  When was that?  And, really, I’ve been to Rome; it’s still there.”

 

 

 

Pasadena, California-born Xander Montgomery, age 24, height five feet and seven inches, is a humble looking young man with sandy brown hair, which is cut short and gelled up neatly.  He is dressed in dark earth tones: a dark, brick red button-up shirt and dark tan corduroy slacks over brown deck shoes.  Even his watch, an aviator analog wristwatch with a brown leather band, fits his wardrobe.  When he begins to speak, he does so in a rapid, scratchy monotone, “So, just how dorky do you have to be to get on this show?” 

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, he quickly catalogues, “I graduated valedictorian from my high school with a 4.4.  I graduated Caltech in three years with a major in Theoretical Physics with a minor in CIS.  I continue to do research there.”  He sits back in chair, and continues, as if prompted, “What?  My social skills?  If anything, underdeveloped.  I focused heavily on my education and I would definitely state I’m behind the curve.  As much as I’m on show for the competition, I’m hoping it will be a learning experience in that aspect of my life as well.”  Even as he finishes speaking, it takes several seconds for the silence to fill the room.

 

 

 

The next young woman, Jessie LaVentor, who is 24 and 5’5”, from Jefferson, South Carolina, sits straight with her hands at her sides, doing some sort of finger exercises.  Her natural blond hair, with a warm bronze tone, is in a tight ponytail.  Her violet-colored stretch shirt hugs her flat stomach and toned shoulders.  She wears white fitted pants over clean, white running shoes, which tap impatiently.  However, her stunning jade green eyes display a serenity of their own. 

 

A warm smile appears on her face as she faces the camera, saying, “My mom’s a PE teacher, so I’ve always been in shape.  I was athletic as a girl, but not a tomboy.  I liked make-up, and getting dressed up.”  She gathers her thoughts and corrects, “I mean, I still like it.  And working out, too.  I am what you would call an ‘endorphin junkie.’”  Unsure of how to phrase her next question, she simply lets out, “Are you gonna make me put on a bikini for this interview?  I mean, I’ll do it, but just curious.  I think it’d be tacky, but whatever.”

 

“Who is the current pope?”

 

“Of what country?”

 

 

 

Riley Matthews, if not for his height of five-eleven and strong build, would look much younger than his 28 years.  His short-cut medium brown hair and round face rather give him the youthful, big-brother look, which is appropriate as his hometown is Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  He dresses casually in a rust-red short-sleeve shirt and light-colored khaki pants.  He wears an Alpha Phi Omega ring on his right hand.  His tone is very friendly as he politely talks to the camera, “I’m an assistant professor of astrophysics at U Penn, and my colleagues suggested I try out for this show, because, well, I’m 28 and I’ve never had that serious of a girlfriend.  They said I’d ‘get a lot of action.’”  He finger-quotes the last phrase before laughing to himself.  “When I tell people I’m an astrophysicist, they look at me like I’m Brainiac.  Astrophysics is pretty cut and dry.  It’s a lot easier than say, quantum physics.  Plus, I’m pretty active in service groups, so I have a pretty respectable résumé,” he comments modestly.  After pausing, he speaks to the interviewer, “Now you’re looking at me like I’m some sort a giant-brain superhero.”  He laughs anyway.

 

 

 

He puts his glasses on and takes them off again, biting the earpiece, looking pensive.  He replaces his glasses, holds his chin in the “Thinking Man” position, and then rubs his imaginary beard.  He smoothes his rust-colored hair, sitting back in the chair, his green eyes peering through his glasses, and rubs the fair, freckled skin of his arms.  He stretches his five-eight frame, looking at the camera.  The 26-year-old Kendall McHenry of Lansing, Illinois is wearing dark khakis and a maroon, button-up shirt with a faint checker pattern.  He eyes the interviewer.

 

“Camera’s been running the whole time.  Start whenever you’re ready,” he’s told.

 

“Really?” he asked, none too offended. Overenunciating, he begins to speak, with hand gestures.  He starts with pointed hands together, saying, “So, anyway, when I first saw your show, and I realized my true calling in life was to be a reality show geek.”  Splitting his hands, he brags, “I am, of course, a Magna Cum Laude graduate of University of Chicago in Molecular Biology.”  He now folds his arms, commenting, “I split my research projects between my alma mater and Northwestern University.  Also, I cannot get a date to save my life!”  With this last part, he does a “I’m helpless” hand thrust.  He refolds his arms, solemnly adding, “I have a terrible time grasping social skills.  I’m a dweeb.  Now, who could be more perfect for the show than I?  Am I in?”

 

~

 

A/N: Well, FFNers, are you pumped?  Do you want the next chapter (or first or whatever)?  Well, you’ll have to go to my website.  The rest is in script format, which as you know isn’t allowed here.  At least Episode 1 is up.  And Chapter 2 should be up before long.  And eventually, some of you who are reading this will find all seven episodes.

 

On the season premiere of Beauty and the Geek:

 

Brian: (voiceover) Our beauties and geeks pair up.

 

Matt: (takes a breath before entering the girls’ waiting room; all eyes are on him as he passes the curtains) Hi, I’m Matt.  And… I have an IQ of 128, which is one of the powers of two. (a couple of the girls exchange glances; Matt laughs at himself) Anyway, I’ll be waiting outside.

 

Matt: (interview room) Dang it!  I was supposed to be prepared!  I knew this was coming.  I volunteered because I was mentally prepared, and I almost blew it!  Sheesh!

 

(Chris is pushed out of the curtain and walks into the girls’ waiting room)

 

Chris: (interview room) When I walked into that room, I was terrified.  And then there were these four goddesses.

 

(all four geeks leap from their seats and crash to the floor; and scamper toward the curtain, Kendall pulls ahead, gets up, emits a proud laugh and walks out)

 

Brian: (voiceover) And they have their first competitions.

 

(in the dining room, the beauties try to assemble computers)

 

Kayley: Ow! (looks at her nail as she tries to open up a cardboard box)

 

(Jolie and Anna look at each other back and forth as they type on the keyboards)

 

(Aubrey stares at the Blue Screen of Death)

 

(outside, the seven guys between tall enclosures hold up white-boards, while their partners watch from behind)

 

(Xander and Riley are racing up some hanging ropes)

 

Brianover: (voiceover) And one team will go home.

 

(suitcases are rolled out the door as it closes)

 

^_^ - So, I’m Sonriso.  I’m a sarcastic punctusmiley who makes witty comments at the end of Godeerc and Creedog’s stories, and I think that I’d be perfect for the show… hey, where are you guys going?  Come back with that camera!

 

 

Created Saturday, September 10, 2005.