(a/n: Just a little foray here into the wonderful world of the VMAs. Hosted by Tracy Morgan from SNL. Yeah, dude, I was feeling a little stupid, little drunk, watching TRL and choking on bile watching Benji get stupid over skanky Christina Aguilera. So I wrote this.)
“Welcome back to the MTV video music awards, and it looks like we added a brand new category to this year. At least that’s what this guy says…” Tracy pointed to the guy behind the teleprompter. “It’s about those chicks on TV that seriously be showing that fat ass, and making all of us sweat.”
Conan O’Brian and Molly Simms walked out on stage and up to the podium with an envelope and a Moon Man in hand. The statuette looked like all of the other ones, except that it had a red thong on its hips and little red kiss planted on the face cover of the helmet. “This new award is for the smuttiest, nastiest, dirtiest ladies on the market, and we all know why they called me up here to introduce it,” Conan said, licking his finger tips and pretending to shape his eyebrows, making a “sexy” face. “It’s cuz I’m so damn bootylicious.”
“These artists have made videos that made us all gape in awe at the risks they were taking, wondering how we were watching these videos without being at a porno shop with a bucket of quarters,” Molly Simms said, frowning at the teleprompter as she struggled through her dialogue. “Or for me, standing in front of my full-length mirror in the morning.”
“That’s right, this is the Harlot Award. I know it will turn some heads every year from now on out, so let’s give it up for the artists.” Conan and Molly looked up at monitor behind them as a clip of L’il Kim’s How Many Licks came on. “L’il Kim,” Conan announced. “But let’s be serious. She’s more oriented towards the rap and R&B crowd and therefore doesn’t draw the full interest the white, suburban 12 to 23 year crowd, so we can just chuck this video right now.”
The next video clip came on. “Britney Spears for her video I’m a Slave 4 U,” Molly Simms said. “Congratulations, girl, you really out-skanked yourself on that one.”
“Our last nominee,” Conan said, and waited for the clip. “Christina Aguilera for her video Dirrty.” The cheers went up as the clip came to a close, and Conan and Molly Simms turned back to the audience. “Well, let’s see who won…”
There was a commotion backstage and Benji ran out on stage, squeezing between Molly and Conan, looking a good foot shorter than the both of them. “Hey, hey America,” Benji said into the microphone. “I just had to come up here and announce this winner, cuz I know my girl’s gonna win this one.”
Conan looked down at him, then leaned into the mic. “What if she doesn’t?”
Benji looked at him as though he had said something obviously stupid. “C’mon, we all know this shit is fixed.” He snatched the envelope out of Molly’s hand. “Thanks, hon,” he said to her, then put his hand over the microphone and whispered “call me later.” Then he pulled open the envelope, read it, and his face lit up, a huge smile spreading over his face. “Yeah, the winner is Kiki, my baby! Christina, c’mon, you won for Dirrty!” He held up the opened envelope and watched her getting up from the fourth row back, hugging her publicist and the director as he had gotten up from behind her to go up on stage. She struggled up the steps in her skin-tight red dress that really looked like a fruit roll-up gone very, very wrong. Her hair had black and red extensions in it, complimenting the platinum blond, nappy-ass locks that were her own hair. She leaned in and kissed Benji, then took over the mic.
“Oh, wow. This is, like, a dream. I mean, when I was making this video, I was just thinking, ‘wow, this going to blow the fuckin’ roof off MTV’. Then I watched the playback, and I said ‘Jim,’” She looked over at the director, grabbing his elbow. “’Jim, this just isn’t slutty enough. I want people to come back with a VD when they watch this shit. Maybe even athlete’s foot,’ so I asked to add the shower scene. Oh, man, that scene totally did it up!”
Jim leaned in. “Christina had a lot of input on this video. This video is the most her there’s ever been in a video. She’s a nasty-ass little ho. We all knew it, and now, here it is.”
“So I just wanted to say thanks, MTV. You finally vali- volley-” She turned and looked back at Benji and he whispered in her ear. She turned around, enlightened. “Validated me in flaunting my skankiness. Hi, mom! Check out my gear!” She twirled around once. “It’s edible,” she added, with a pointed look at Benji.
“Oh, holy crap,” Benji said, leaning towards her as she walked across the stage, following Conan and Molly as they moved towards the backstage entrance. He put his mouth on her shoulder, “accidentally” biting off the top of the strap and chewing slowly. “Strawberry.” She grabbed the top of her dress, pulling in a mock horrified breath, smacking his cheek softly.
“Naughty,” she whispered.
“Dirty,” he whispered back. And she turned around to begin a full on make-out session right there, still on stage.
“Uh, dude?” Joel called to Benji from backstage, leaning out, not wanting to go out in front of all the people to pull his brother off the super-skank and off the stage. Benji dove into “Kiki’s” mouth, not listening to his twin at all. “Dude!” Joel smacked him on the back of his head. He pulled away and looked around.
“What?” He asked, giving Joel the most evil glare he could with Christina in his arms.
“You’re still on stage.” The two of them looked around at the stunned faces, even Tracy Morgan, who still stood staring at them.
“Oh, crap,” Benji said. “Sorry!” He yelled and waved to the crowd, who went up in a cheer as he peeled himself from her dress, as it was gooifying between their bodies from the heat.
“Guess what,” Christina said as they walked into the backstage area.
“What?”
“I’m wearing matching underwear.” She leaned closer and whispered, “but they’re raspberry.”
Out on stage, Tracy got back into his stride. “I want to congratulate Christina Aguilera too, cuz damn, that video made my case of syphilis really kick up.”
Joel looked over at the happy couple, seriously about to throw up. What was the deal? Were they trying to be the Tommy Lee and Pam Anderson of the new generation, for fuck’s sake? Joel didn’t want to touch either of them with a ten foot pole. He ventured over, standing as far away as possible to tap Benji on the shoulder. He broke his kiss again and turned around, pissed off this time. “What?”
“Can I talk to you a minute?” Joel motioned him into the corner.
Benji turned to Christina. “Just give me a minute, baby. I gotta talk to my goddamn brother a minute.”
“Okay, don’t be long. I’m meltin’ for ya’ baby.”
Benji followed his brother over into the corner, where the snacks were. “What, dude.”
“Um, normally I seriously just don’t say shit about your girlfriends. But this is outta hand, dude. Could you bring this… thing home to mom?”
Benji looked over at her and smiled, tugging on his tie as he thought about the things she’d do to him later. His tongue wet his lips as he became aware that Joel was talking. “What?” He’d missed it completely.
Joel took his chin gruffly in one hand so he would focus on his face and listen. “She’s a ‘ho, dude. You think she’d settle down with you and give you some awesome kids?”
“Who cares?”
Joel grunted his frustration and then lowered his voice, barely moving his lips when he spoke again. “Do you seriously think she’s only doin’ you right now?” Benji blinked at him, pressing his lips together, brown eyes locked, unblinking on Joel’s. Joel knew he’d brought up the wrong damn thing and Benji smacked his hand away from his face.
“I fuckin’ hate you sometimes, Joel.” He turned and walked back over to Christina. “Sorry about that, baby. My stupid brother…” he rolled his eyes.
“Y’know, baby?” She looked over at Joel, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “You could just ask him to come along and join us… y’know… next time.” Benji stared at her. “Kinda something I had in mind from the beginning. Like a twin-Kiki sandwich.” Benji let his hands drop from her body, sticky strawberry residue on his palms, and took two steps back, his mouth slack in surprise. “That sounded like twinkie,” she added with a severely ditzy giggle.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
She shrugged. “Nah. You think he’d go for it?” She cocked her head as she looked at Joel. “Damn, he’s fine too.”
Benji shook his head and backed off even more. “Oh, fuck you.”
“I thought that’s what we were gonna-”
Benji pointed an accusing finger at her. “Don’t call me.” He turned and went over to Joel. “Can we go now?”
Joel looked up in surprise, as he had been sure Benji wouldn’t be talking to him again for at least five days. He could see the red flush in his easily emotion-tinged face, the ropes of muscles working in his jaws as he clenched his teeth. “Uh, yeah, Benj.” He put his hands on his fuming brother’s shoulders and pushed him out of the backstage area, taking the side door to avoid any of the cameras, knowing that there would be questions about not having Skankasaurus-Rex draped over his brother’s arm. Joel looked back at Christina as she followed them with her eyes, a blank sort of look on her face until Johnny Depp walked by and her attention was fully drawn to him. He could hear her offer him a bite of her dress, and he was sure Benji heard it too because his shoulders bunched up under his hands. Out in the cold air, their breath streamed out in puffs.
“Goddammit,” Benji growled through clenched teeth.
“You, uh… you wanna talk?” Joel asked, shuffling some snow with his feet.
Benji punched the side of the building once, then again with the other hand. He took a couple loud breaths. “Nah, man. Maybe later, though.”
“Okay,” Joel said, knowing that Benji would stumble back to their New York apartment extremely loaded, thin clots on his knuckles that would crack the moment he had to grip the door knob, and he would leave a trail of dripped blood on the hardwood floors to their room. He would wake Joel up and he would talk, he might cry, and Joel would cleanse and dress his wounds. It was a cycle. Not necessarily a good one, but it was just one of those things. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tomorrow morning,” he corrected, spitting on the ground.
Joel put a hand on his brother’s back for a moment. “All right. Take care of yourself tonight.”
He looked over at Joel. “I’ll try.”
I think I might do some add-ons to this if anybody hits me back with a request. Hell, I’ll probably do it anyway… I’m heavily anticipating the time when the guys go out and car-bomb her house.