Chapter One—Sunny Day

I agree with Garfield—Mondays are definitely the worst days EVER. They suck. Everything goes wrong and I'm usually blamed for it...go figure.

One particular Monday was the pits. I would rather have entertained Uruk-Hai at a Victorian tea party than watch that...game show on TV. Ugh. First of all, Who Wants to be a Hero? immediately sounded like a really lame spin-off of Who Wants to be a Millionaire?. I knew right-off I would rather be a millionaire than a hero...or heroine, rather, so I was already opposed to it. Then, I got a phone call....it was from Simon Cowell. Well, actually, it was from his manager. All the guy said was that Simon had laryngitis (I guess the contestants were rejoicing) and, seeing as how he couldn't fire off his usual insults without his voice, the producer had recommended me to take his place. WHY???? The manager-guy said something about my "superb talent for judging." Vague enough—I guess it was because I was a guest judge on Can YOU Speak Huttese? a couple years ago....remind me never to do that again.

Anyway, the manager just hung up, obviously assuming that I was gung-ho for the job. Yeah, right. Either way, I was stuck with a job I hated that was no doubt going to be broadcasted on international television. Crud.

So, I got to the NBC building at exactly twelve minutes past eight that Monday, and by the time I had located the appropriate studio, I was already beginning to feel nervous. Why? I'll tell you.

Standing outside Studio 13 was Aragorn—not Viggo Mortensen, Aragorn himself. Next to him was Legolas—the Legolas Greenleaf. I rubbed my eyes and just stood there staring as they chatted nonchalantly. What was wrong with this picture? Maybe the fact that, last time I checked, I lived in D.C., not Middle-Earth. For once in my life, I began to envy Simon Cowell. I silently panicked and made a beeline away from the studio to the elevator. If this was some kind of practical joke, I was out of here.

I called the elevator frantically. The door opened to reveal none other than Edmund and Peter Pevensie. In Narnian attire. I must have looked like a maniac, shrieking and running down the hall towards the staircase. By the time I reached the first landing, I was almost accidentally severed by a lightsaber as Obi-Wan Kenobi rushed up in the opposite direction. I kept on running until I reached the bottom. I dashed out the front door and collapsed on the steps. It was obvious to me that this whole affair was one of three things: one, a practical joke, two, a nightmare, or three, a test tube experiment gone horribly wrong. I was starting to side with three when I saw Batman park his car in the lot. And was that the Enterprise hovering over the building? Yeesh-o-rama.

For now, I had two choices: run or judge. Running sounded promising and even sort of fun. Then, it dawned on me. Who Want to be a Hero....that was the title. And all the guys I had seen—they were all heroes (well, I could argue on the Captain Kirk case). Now I saw the relevance of the show. This was not going to be an ordinary gameshow. This was sure not going to be an ordinary afternoon.

I was beginning to get excited now—a chance to talk to some of my all-time favourite fictional characters! And the prospect of meeting Legolas...that was too good to pass on. SWEETNESS!

I swiftly stood up and walked briskly to the front desk.

"Hi, Sunny," said the receptionist. "Was that you running out of here a few minutes ago?"

"Uh, never mind," I said. "Hey, can I get the list of contestants for this...game show?"

"Sure, right here," the receptionist said, handing me a clipboard that was bulging with papers. I was a little scared, but generally undeterred. Deep breath, close your eyes, and jump in—sort of the same principle as for jumping off the high dive.

I climbed back up the steps and marched straight into the studio. Oh, Lord. Please, please tell me that wasn't who I though it was. EDWARD CULLEN?

I wheeled around on my heels and marched straight out again. I nearly ran into the producer. I asked him straight out:

"Rob, why is Edward Cullen standing there? He's, like, the loser of the century? I thought this show was about heroes, not emos!"

"Sorry, Sunny—fangirls from across the country voted him on. Oh, and I guess I should let you know that Jacob's here, too. By the coffee machine down the hall."

"Jacob Black?"

"Bingo."

"The werewolf?"

"Yup."

"From Twilight?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Shirtless?"

"Please don't faint, Sunny..."

"What kind of a show is this?" I asked weakly, like a crippled mouse in a full-body cast.

"Look on the bright side, Sunny—"

"No puns, Rob."

"Sorry—but you know, you're a judge. You can just vote him off the show."

Gosh, I thought as Rob disappeared down the hallway, I never thought of that. Ha. This is going to be fun!