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TITLE: The Centre's Weakest Link

AUTHOR: Jackie

RATING: G

Teaser: What if Jarod was in charge of 'The Weakest Link?'

DISCLAIMER: I don't know either show. I'm just having fun; I don't have any money. Please just enjoy it and don't sue me.

- - - -

Jarod straightened his tie as the lights dimmed and the theme music started. He turned to the proper camera and began his opening speech from his podium.

“Here are the eight players who will take part in tonight's show,” he said, smirking to the players arranged on the podiums in front of him. “One of them could walk away with up to one million dollars. The others will leave with nothing, as round by round they are voted off as - The Weakest Link.” He turned to the first of the eight contestants.

“Mr. Lyle,” he said. “What brings you here.”

Lyle struggled against the ropes tying his hands behind his back. He still couldn’t believe how Jarod had captured him and the others so easily. And what was he thinking, pulling a stunt like this? “Jarod, when I get my hands on you.,” he growled.

“Glad you could join us, Lyle,” Jarod grinned. Onto Contestant Two. “Mr. Raines.”

“Jarod,” he wheezed; he could barely breath and move with the binds tying his hands behind him.

“Mr. Parker,” Jarod turned to the elder gentleman.

“Jarod,” Parker replied. He was amused, despite being tied as well.

Jarod nodded to each of the remainder guests - the sweepers, Sam and Willie; Miss Parker; Sydney; and Broots. All of them had their hands tied behind them, all of them were chained to the floor, so they couldn’t leave. “Let’s play The Weakest Link.” He glanced down at his cue cards, then tossed them aside. “Aw, heck, I don’t think any of you deserve questions.” He turned to Lyle. “Lyle, you are hooked on something other then Phonics. You *are* The Weakest Link. Bye bye!”

Jarod pushed a button on the side of his podium, and a trapdoor opened underneath him. Jarod grinned as he watched Lyle disappear and heard his screams fade into nothing. Jarod turned to Raines. “Raines, your brain - like the rest of your corpse - would be turned down by an organ bank. You *are* The Weakest Link. Bye bye!” Jarod grinned as the same thing happened to the wheezing ghoul.

Jarod turned to Mr. Parker. “You must have spent your vacation in Puerto Estupido. You *are* The Weakest Link. Bye bye!” The elder man disappeared into the floor.

Jarod turned to Sam and Willie. “It’s Tweetle-Dumb and Tweetle-Dumber. You both *are The Weakest Links.” The two disappeared into the floor.

Jarod turned to Miss Parker. “Miss Parker,” he said as the woman stuggled against her binds.

“I’m going to kill you, you . . .”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jarod wagged a finger. “You may dress like a star, but on this Rodeo Drive you are the 99 Cent Store, and you *are* The Weakest Link.”

“Jarod, you are DEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Parker’s shrill voice slowly faded as Jarod turned to Broots. He nearly started laughing as the other man started quivering.

“Broots.”

“Hi,” Broots smiled weakly.

“You may not be a loser, but you sure play one on TV. You *are* The Weakest Link.” Jarod didn’t even wait for Broots’ screams to fade before turning to his mentor, someone he loved and hated at the same time. “Sydney.”

“Jarod,” Sydney replied. “You know, this event can have repercussions if you are captured.”

“Save it, Syd,” Jarod glared. “You may be a doctor, but in here I call the shots, forgive the pun. Now, for you, you need to take two smart pills and call me in the morning. You *are* The Weakest Link.” He reached for the button and sent Sydney to the same fate as the others. He turned around and left the podium with a satisfied smile on his face.

- - - -

Jarod woke with a start. His heart was pounding, and he was sweating. He looked around his darkened lair, even though it was daytime. “It was a dream,” he whispered. He was a little disappointed that it hadn’t been real. He had always thought that the game on television was okay, but it needed to be livened up a little bit - make it a bit more exciting. He flipped on his nightstand lamp and reached for his phone. He dialed a number and waited.

“NBC Studios,” a voice on the other end answered.

“Yes, my name is Jarod . . . Sullivan,” Jarod replied. “I’m a producer for a television company that works out of Delaware, but has offices all over the world. I’d like to set up an appointment to see Mr. Wright; I have a few ideas I’d like to discuss with him that are sure to boost ratings.”

THE END











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