| Plot #3 |
| At last, a story with a main character you already know! This is a Lance story because, well, just because. The other guys are more apt to get into trouble, it seems, so I wanted something that Lance could do that would get him in trouble, but not hurt anyone, something that would get him seriously ragged on by the others. So I picked indecent exposure! Well, he was probably home in Mississippi skinny-dipping and some kids stole his clothes. Of course, that's up to you now. BUT, know this: the main premise of this plot was that Lance gets one phone call from the county jail, and he dials the wrong number. What a wally!! ~Plot Mistress~ |
�Well, if it isn�t our own hometown hero, Jimmy Lance Bass.� Lance blanched at the voice. All he wanted to do was get home without anyone noticing him, especially in his condition. But no, things couldn�t go his way. The one person who HAD to see him was Sheriff Blair. He tried to appear nonchalant � tried. �Hey, Sheriff Blair. How�s it going?� The sheriff shook his head, pushing his hat back so he could scratch his forehead. �I�ll tell you, Bass, it was going pretty good. Until you showed up, that is. What in tarnation do you think you�re doing, boy? Do you think that now you�re a big music star, you can just come back to my town and get away with anything you want? I always thought Diane and Jim had raised you better than that. I�ll never understand you young things, why you think you can do these kinds of things.� He shook his head again and opened up the door of his four by four. Lance�s eyes widened. �Sheriff Blair ..� The old man cut him off with a wave of his hand. �Just get in the car, Bass. Famous or no, we have laws here in Clinton, and you�ve just broken one of them. You can call your folks from down at the jail. Let�s go, son.� The only coherent thought that crossed his mind as he got into the back of the vehicle: �At least the windows are tinted.� |