The audience is cued for anticipatory excitement. Mitchell pauses dramatically and then while verging on a shout he robustly announces, "Erik Simmons and George Yavorsky!!!" The crowd claps and cheers as the two contestants walk out on stage.
The two are an odd pair. Erik is tall, muscular and with stunning facial features. He'd be a true ten on the scales of most. The blonde, blue eyed hunk struts confidently onto the stage with a slight hint of unwillingness if one were to look closely enough. Sporting a black tight tank top, stylish jeans, a pair of sparkling white sneakers and a white unzipped hoodie to top it all off, he settles behind the podium with his handwritten name backlit in a flourescent yellow color over black. He smiles attractively yet somewhat unintelligently, gripping the sides of the podium and nodding over to his opponent at the opposite side of the stage. Erik's grin turns a bit more devilish with the smaller man in his sights.
George's presence is a far cry from Erik's. The attractive yet unassuming man seems to be a few years older than the young stud, somewhere around 30 years old to Erik's mid-twenties. His shorter height and more delicate build obscures the view of most of his body behind the podium. George doesn't seem to be a meek little man though. His posture is firm and confident. His thickly rimmed designer glasses and tailored fit polo shirt and khakis accented by a preppy looking pair of leather shoes give him that sort of a sexy nerd look. His dimpled smile shines back at Erik as he smooths his slicked back dark hair into place and winks at the audience.
"Alright!" Mitchell says with a sing-song tone, cueing the audience to keep it down for now. "Both Erik and George hail from Newport, Oregon! Erik works on a fishing crew and George is a marine bioresearcher, specializing in the study of..." Mitchell pauses again, apparently rereading his cue cards, "Poly...placo...phora. Did I get that right George?" Mitchell asks, accompanying the question with a commercial sounding laugh.
George smirks and nods, "Close enough." he responds with a slight aire of superiority. Michell lets out another rehearsed sounding laugh, "I'm not even going to ask you what means. How about we leave it up to the audience to spend some time googling it?"
"Fair enough." George says, sounding playfully irritated at the plastic host of the show, letting Mitchell continue with his congenial cheesiness. "George and Erik are a couple." he pauses again for a cued audience reaction. "They've dated for five years and sustain their relationship with a mutual love of each other and as well of the ocean! Let's give them both a hand!" The audience again claps and cheers loudly in their alloted 4 seconds.
Mitchell flips to the next cue card, tapping the stank of them down on his centrally located podium. "So tell me Erik, how does George react when you come home stinking of fish carcass?" Erik looks a little taken aback by the question as the cameras train onto his pensive looking face. Unable to come up with a witty answer to the question he instead shrugs and in a deep baritone responds, "He hasn't complained about it yet, I always like to shower before we start..." Erik is silenced by the loud censor beep that drowns out the rest of what he says.
Erik smiles stupidly, his boyish attractive grin causing the audience to cheer for him. An obvious lightbulb goes off in his head, "Uhh, thanks!" his face beams, obviously enjoying the attention of the apparently adoring audience. A bit off cue and unplanned, he adds, "I know what you're all thinking. Why would a stud like me..." he slumps his shoulders, letting his hoodie fall from his shoulders as he then flexes his massive sculpted arms and pumped looking shelf of a chest, "be with some little geek like George?" Erik grins widely, showing his orthodontically perfect set of bleached white teeth, looking satisfied with his mischievous potshot at his boyfriend's physical appearance. George doesn't let it slide though, in a New York minute he interrupts the laughter of the crowd, "Don't let him fool you. Erik is a big guy, that's for sure, but he isn't big EVERYWHERE!" The crowd laughs even louder as Erik blushes, embarrassed his own boyfriend would disclose to the audience as well as anyone watching on tv that he is pretty small down there where it counts.
Mitchell hushes the crowd and resuming his melodic narrative, he smiles at both of the men. "That's enough you two! I don't want to get myself into the middle of a lover's quarrel here!"
Erik half-heartedly smiles as George wipes an imaginary spot on his polo shirt, looking all too satisfied.
Mitchel begins to explain the rules of the game. He says there will be a series of questions. Before each question is asked, he will give the category to the contestants. After that, they will have to decide their wagers, picking a physical, mental or emotional trait off of a list on a large billboard above Mitchell's head. In addition to the category, their wagers will include a quantitative amount. The question will then be asked, both men writing down their answer in secret. At the revealing of their answers, whoever has a correct answer is rewarded with an honoring of his wager in the form of a transfer. In the event both of them correctly answer, only half of each of their wagers will be honored.
Mitchell asks the men to confirm they understand the rules. Erik, though still mouthing out silent repetitions of what Mitchell had explained, lets out a slightly unsure sounding "yes" while George nods emphatically, "Absolutely!"
There is a moment of lights and fanfare as Mitchell prepares to ask the first question, "The category is....WHAT SHE SAYS AND WHAT SHE MEANS!!!! Gentlemen, prepare your wagers!" Both men seem to physically guffaw at the category. As gay men how would either one be versed in how a woman might communicate?
They write down their secret wagers anyway, stealing looks at each other, wondering what he is writing down.
"Ok, here's the question..." there is yet another determined albeit short moment of silence. "When she says: Does this dress make me look fat? What does she mean?"
The clock starts to tick....