Damnit, I’m back in the Temu Alley. I thought this story was over, but then I remember it’s the week of July 4, and it’s repeat time for Beyond The Gates. Jacob is standing there on his burner phone texting someone, probably Smitty. Who wouldn’t text that tall drink of tequila?

“Yo, Jacob,” when he looks up at me, he seems surprised that I recognized him. “Sunglasses and headphones do not a disguise make.”

“No one else has recognized me,” he argues.

“That’s just bad writing more than this being a good disguise,” I point out. “Aren’t you due at the warehouse?”

He looks at his watch and scrambles over there. I saunter over because I don’t care enough to rush. This story was almost worse than Casey the Alien.

“You shouldn’t think things that mean,” Joey says with a grin. “And if I recall, that story wasn’t that bad.”

I sigh. “That was another life for you. And were you even involved in that story?”

“Wasn’t even on the show yet but still,” he argued. “Shouldn’t we be nice? I mean, after all, it’s not your job to snark.”

“Umm… it is.”

“Maybe I should introduce you to the Impaler,” he threatened, trying to sound menacing.

“Is Heather back at the Temu Casino? I would love to see her,” I smile brightly. “Heather Armstrong, not Webber.”

Joey rolls his eyes. “I know what show I’m on,” he looks at me and then sighs, “sometimes.”

“Get back to planning a crime-fueled getaway with Vanessa,” I say.

With Joey gone, I am now in the warehouse. Randy is snooping around, but I don’t want to talk to him. He’d just try sucking my fingers, and I’m not into that. Well, at least not until the third date. Second, if the guy is really sexy. And there doesn’t even need to be a date for Rory Gibson.

Why am I in Fairmont Crest when I could be in Port Charles chasing him?

Right, snarking the repeats. There are gunshots and dramatic music. It’s the cliffhanger where they tried to make us think that something happened to Jacob. I make my way inside and laugh at the Temu villain known as Ren.

“What’s you doing here?”

“Look I know you think you’re scary, but the laundry I’m ignoring at home is scarier than you.”

“I stabbed Grayson and beat up Rashawd.”

“And how did that work out for you?” he looks chastened. “Maybe get some counseling and dig deep to find out why you suck as a villain.”

“That wasn’t very nice,” Derek chastises me. He’s on the floor holding his stomach. A surefire soap sign that he’s been shot. Or is pregnant.

“I’m not here to be nice,” I answer. “And aren’t you supposed to be dead.”

“They wouldn’t kill me off. I’m an OG,”

“They kill you off. On the plus side, Nurse Ashley acts like your widow for the better part of three weeks.”

There’s hope in his eyes, “For real? She still loves me? Maybe I can come back from the dead.”

“Not happening. They kill you off onscreen,” then I add, “but don’t worry, she’s already making out with Grayson again. Can you blame her?”

Derek contemplates for a second, “No. I wanted to make out with him too.”

Finally at the country club, which hasn’t been damaged too much from the Temu tornado. Who are we kidding? Even if it was, the set would be right back up in no time. They aren’t worried about continuity.

Samantha runs up to me. “I was named Platinum Deb! I won!”

“Of course you did. You were the only semi-regular character up for the award.”

“You’re mean!”

Two people telling me I’m mean in one episode—I must be doing something right.

“There’s my favorite…” Dani says and stops in her tracks.

“Dani Dupree, we are feuding, and you know why,” I tell her with my eyebrows cocked.

“It’s because of the elevator nightmare, isn’t it?”

“How could you cheat on Andre with Bill?” I ask. “I mean, I knew you were going to cheat, but why not someone like Smitty?”

“Smitty’s gay!” Like she needed to remind me. Then she gave me a knowing smile. “Smash coffee mugs?”

“With Bill’s face on them?”

“With Bill’s face on them,” she agrees. “And to make it even better, I’ll throw in a tequila sunrise for you.”

‘“You know I can’t stay mad at you.”

“Does he know about you and Bill?” Nicole asks as she joins us. “I’m peeved at her too.”

“Listen, I need you to choose Kial and cut Carlton loose already.”

“Me too,” Nicole agrees.

As we all look forward to the show returning with original episodes to get us out of story limbo. Which I have a story about, but that’ll be another time.

Temu Alley is crawling with people wearing hoodies, glasses, and headphones. Though, unlike Jacob Hawthorne, none of them are undercover cops. He sticks out like a smoat in Fairmont Crest.

“Jacob, you know this isn’t a disguise, right?”

“It’s Rashawd,” he tries to correct me.

“Call yourself Lady Gaga for all I care; this …

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I’ve been rewatching Ally McBeal and garnering ideas for my writing. There have been some ideas for romance books. Some have been for articles. This one popped up out of the blue as I finished the day’s binge recently. It struck me that they had taken a soap trope and made it feel fresh and exciting.

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In 1969, millions of people watched as The Apollo landed on the moon for the first time. Astronauts gathered rocks and minerals while they were there. Along with those samples, other astronauts brought back a piece of a meteorite that was thought to prove that there was life on Mars.

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