*****
The Brendan Files, part 4/4
*****

Seconds later, Brendan finally realized he was completely 
naked and outside the hotel. Luckily, Doofie's angry dad 
was nowhere in sight, as he cowered between two parked 
cars. "What am I going to do??" Brendan hissed to himself. 
He then saw a maid toss some old sheets into a garbage 
dumpster 20 yards away. "Great! If I can get over there 
without being seen, I can make a togo and no one in the 
hotel will notice me getting back in!"

Brendan scanned the area for a few seconds, and seeing no 
one in sight, he took off for the dumpster, his hands trying 
to cover his private parts. Brendan was just 5 yards away 
from the sanctuary-giving dumpster when a stark white 
spotlight illuminated him.

"What...in...the...Hell... do we have...here?", came from the 
source of the light in a deep drawl. Shielding his eyes from 
the glare, Brendan suddenly saw two police officers 
standing just 20 feet away in the Waffle House parking lot. 
"Dunno, Carl...but he sure ain't dressed for any outdoor 
occasion I know of."

Brendan tried covered himself with his hands. "Uh, you're 
probably wondering what I am doing out here in this state 
of...fashion.", the horrified canadian stammered.

"Ya'll got that right, Mister." said the first cop. The other 
reached for a set of handcuffs. "Too bad those folks from 
the `COPS' TV show was here in Atlanta last week, 
because this would have been real good..."

Brendan stammered. "Uh, you see, I'm a, er, guest here at a 
convention and, well, I was...you see.."

"We certainly do see, sir. Have you been drinking?"

"Well, yes, I was..er, I had a just a few beers at a room 
party, when I er, met this with a young gir..er, uh Lady, and 
went to her room, and well, you know..."

"Well, judging from the sole thing that ya'lls wearin', I 
guess that part is right. too. Should we call in the Vice 
Squad, Mike?" His partner shook his head. "No, but I think 
the drunk tank might have an opening tonight...."

Brendan continued trying to tell his story. "Well, I was, 
well, with...this young lady, when her fa...er, uh, this large 
man with a butcher knife burst in the room and...threatened 
to kill me! I had to escape even though I wasn't...wearing 
anything!"

One of the cops crossed his arms as the other returned to 
their car. "I see. Would you like to press charges against 
this alleged `knife-wielding maniac', sir?"

"UH, NO! Er, uh I don't remember what room it was! But if 
you'd just let me grab a bed sheet out of that dumpster, I'd 
be out of your way and causing no more trouble..."

"Sorry, sir..." said the returning cop, holding a blanket and 
a portable breathalizer. "But if you blow this here balloon 
up, we're gonna get your situation under control..."

***

Brendan was taken to the Atlanta City Jail and exchanged 
the patrolmen's blanket for a set of the city's orange prison 
coveralls. He was photographed, fingerprinted, and given 
the one phone call. Since he absolutely knew no one else in 
Atlanta, he dialed the Howard Johnson to get Ed Krymore.

"Howard Johnson's Winegate Hotel & Conference Center, 
this is Ieesaha, may I help you?"

"Please, Ieesaha! This is Brendan Beiser! I need to talk to 
Ed Krymore, director of the StarKon convention! This is an 
REAL Emergency!"

"Do you know what room he's in?"

"Uh, I'm sorry, I don't, but this is an emer..."

"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid I can't give out his room number."

"PLEASE!!!! I'm one of his Convention Guests and I'm 
calling from ja...er MEMORIAL HOSPITAL!!! This is a 
matter of life and Death! Please!!!"

"Memorial Hospital? We don't have a Memorial Hospital 
here in Atlanta..."

"PLEASE!!!! I beg of you!! Get me Ed Krymore!!!"

"Well, it's bending the rules, but since you say it's an 
emergency, I'll transfer you."

The phone rang four times as Brendan sweated bullets. On 
the fifth ring, someone picked up. "Hello?" came a tiny, 
squeaky voice.

"Hello! Is this the room of Mr Ed Krymore??" Brendan 
cried.

"He's my daddy. But he's not here right now. Who are you?"

"UH, my name is Brendan Beiser. Is your Mommy there?"

"No Mister Bee, she's with my daddy at a party at a big 
hotel! Would you like to talk my sitter, Action Girl?"

Brendan's heart sank. "Sure, sweetie! Please put Actio..er 
your sitter on!"

An even higher pitched voice squeaked from the phone. 
"HI!! This is ACTION GIRL!!!! Singing Superheroine of 
Atlanta and Member of the Power Ranger Super Squad of 
Justice!!"

"Hello?" gasped Brendan. "What the hell are you on, er, uh 
forgive me! My name is Brendan Beiser! When is Mr 
Krymore due back? This is an Emergency of the highest 
magnitude!" 

"Emergency!?! ACTION GIRL to the Rescue!!! Weeeeee! 
Where are you? I'll fly over and save the day!!!"

"What the fu.. Er, please! Miss Action Girl, or whatever 
your name is! I'm calling from the Atlanta Jail and 
DESPERATELY need to get in touch with Mr Krymore!! 
Please!!"   

"You're in Jail? You're not an Evil Criminal Bad Guy, are 
you?"

"Uh no! I'm, uh, er, Working with FBI Agents Scully & 
Mulder, and we, er, I Captured SMOKING MAN and his 
Evil Band of Conspirators!! I, uh, need Mr Krymore to help 
me contact them!"

"Certainly! As soon as Mr Eddie comes back from the 
Party, I will tell him Everything!! Action 
Girl...AWAAAAAAAY!!!!!!"

The line went dead, as did Brendan's hopes for getting out 
of this mess that night....

***

The Night Court Judge looked bored as the 2 prostitutes in 
front of Brendan were fined $200 each for solicitation and 
taken off. The Prosecuting Attorney spoke up.

"Case 7257954G286. People versus Brendan Beiser. The 
charge is Public Drunkenness, Indecent Exposure, and 
Lewd & Lascivious Behavior. Here's the police statement 
indicating that Mr Beiser was found legally intoxicated and 
completely naked in the rear parking lot of the Howard 
Johnson Winegate Hotel, attempt to steal a bedsheet."

"Defence?"

The Public Defender looked at her notebook. "Mr Beiser is 
a Foreign national who was a guest at a convention held at 
the Howard Johnson. He was separated from his wallet and 
passport, and tried to escape from a...romantic 
encounter...with a young woman he met in the hotel... from 
an knife-wielding maniac and was caught by Atlanta police 
in the act of flight from said maniac and was going obtain 
an already discarded bedsheet from the dumpster to avert 
his state of undress."

"Does the Defence have evidence of this alleged 
"knife-wielding maniac' that caused Mr. Beiser to run 
around Atlanta in the nude?" asked the judge.

"Uh, no I don't, your Honor." Brendan blushed. If Doofie's 
father was brought in, he'd suddenly go from Indecent 
Exposure to Corrupting the Morals of a Minor. Brendan 
knew that from working on "The Comish".

"Well, how do we plead, Mr Beiser?

Brendan looked at his court-appointed defender. She 
whispered, "If you plead guilty, you'll just get a $200 fine 
and be sent on your way."

"Uh, I guess...Guilty?"

"Court accepts. $1000 fine. Please pay the clerk and you're 
out..."

"WHAT? $1000! Uh, er, Your Honor! I don't have $1000 
with me, but could I wire my manager for it?"

"Didn't you arranged that with your one phone call?"

Brendan shrugged. "I tried to call a local...person...to help, 
but I guess they didn't get the message..."

The judge sadly shook his head.l "Well, I'm Sorry Mr 
Beiser. You should have called your so-called manager 
first...Take him to a cell until he can pay up...Next case, 
please..." 

***

Immediately, Brendan was taken across the street back to 
the Atlanta City Jail and placed in the Drunk Tank. It was 
actually the "Detoxification Holding Cell", but it was full 
of a variety of men soused to various forms of intoxication. 
Brendan sat down on a bench and dropped his head in his 
hands.

"This is NOT Happening! This is NOT Happening!!

Another inmate dropped on the bench besides him. 
"Say...you look familiar, mister! You been on some T.V. 
movin' pi-ture show?"

"Uh, I'm an actor from Vancouver. I've been on several TV 
shows..."

"Vancouver?!? Ain't that where they film the X-Files?!?"

"Uh, yes, yes they do..."

"HEY EVERYBODY!! This here's David Duke-ovny of tha 
X-FILES TV movin' pi-ture show!!!"

Brendan smiled anxiously at the very happy friend he 
made. "Uh, Yes, I'm from the X-Files..." 

Another drunk rolled up and threw his arm around 
Brendan. "Hey Mr Doo-Wachy! I's seen LOTSA Little 
Green Men, myself!!! he slurred.

"I'm sure you have..." replied Brendan.

***

Morning wake-up came early for Brendan and his 
new-found friends. At 6am, a deputy rousted him and the 
eleven drunks from their sleep for their morning 
institutional oatmeal. Brendan asked the guard if he could 
make another phone call. The guard replied to the 
affirmative, but that he'd have to wait until 8am to call. 

And exactly at 8am, Brendan was allowed to leave the 
Level C detention area to use the phone. Unfortunately, it 
was accompanied by a line about the size wanting to get 
Neal McDuncan's autograph the day before. It at least gave 
him time to decide between calling Seymour or Ed 
Krymore. But since the phone was for local calls only, 
Brendan reluctantly tried Krymore's number one last time. 

"Howard Johnson's Winegate Hotel & Conference Center, 
this is Judy, may I help you?"

"Uh, Hello! This is Brendan Beiser--from the Atlanta City 
jail. I need to have Mr Ed Krymore of StarKon paged. It 
involves one of his...alleged guests, we believe."

"Oh my! Which one!"

"He's claims to be a Rick Branson..."

"RICK BRANSON?!?! NOOOOOO!!! I LOVE him on 
Mitzi the Monster Hunter! I'll get Mr Krymore, RIGHT 
NOW!!!"

Brendan didn't want to scare the poor girl, but it sure got 
results faster then if he had mentioned himself. Moments 
later, Krymore was on the phone.

"Hello!! Hello!! What's this about Rick Branson being in 
jail?!?" screamed the tubby con director in complete panic.

"Mr Krymore! This is Brendan Beiser! Didn't you get my 
message last night??"

A stunned gasp was heard. "Oh! Mr Beiser! I...I... thought 
that Daisy, uh, er, that's Action Girl, er, who was 
babysitting my daughter, was making that story up!! I had 
no idea! Does this mean you can't make your scheduled talk 
at 1pm?"

"Well, if you get a third of my $3000 to me, yes, yes I can 
make it!!!"

"Uh, Mr Beiser.... That might be a problem.."

"Don't tell me you had to bail one of the other guests out of 
jail first?!?" Brendan screeched.

"Well, uh..no." Krymore began. "It's just that we can only 
mail the money to your manager...Monday. It's in the 
contract you signed. It protects us in case you can't show at 
the last minute and...."

"For God's sakes!! I need $1000 to get out of here!! You 
can take it out of my payment!! You can keep the other 
damned $2000!!!"

"Uh, I'm sorry, Mr Beiser...I'm afraid that the contract also
stipulates that we...er, can't advance the money...and we 
aren't liable for any...uh, er, "extracurricular activities" of 
our guests...which I am NOT going to inquire into..."

"Please! At least contact my manag...."

The phone went dead, and once more Brendan Beiser heart 
sank. It looked as if his next role was going to be a month 
in the Atlanta City Jail.....

.....but at 3pm, during the Atlanta Falcons football game on 
the breakroom TV, a guard came up to Brendan. "Excuse 
me, are you Brendan Beiser, aka Agent Danny Pendrell of 
the X-Files?" 

Brendan looked up, dejection in his eyes. "Who wants to 
know?" he asked despondently.

"Well, whomever they are, they just paid your fine. You are 
free to go, sir. Well, as soon as you get a change of 
clothes..."

Brendan jumped up from the broken old couch and hugged 
the three old derelicts he was watching the game with. He 
nearly flew down to the Release Center to get his personal 
items, until he realized just what one personal item he had 
been brought in with, then changed course and headed to 
the reception lobby. "Krymore must have hung up on me to 
get the money and get me out of here!" he cheerily yelped 
as he pushed open the doors to the reception room.

But there, standing in their Pendrell Lab coats, waving their 
signs, and cheering were all of his Loyal Admirers, minus 
the purple-haired Doofie. "Brendan!! Brendan!! Brendan!!" 
they chanted to the shocked embarrassment of the two 
Atlanta Police auxiliaries behind the desk.

"What...in...the world?? You guys...paid...my fine??"

"We sure did, Brendan!! We're your Loyal Admirers!! What 
else could we do?!?" came the answer in unison.

"But..but..how did you know...Krymore didn't tell the 
whole..."

J.R. let go of Ruby Ann's hand and stepped forward. 
"Krymore told the crowd you had to return to Vancouver 
for a job! But my long-time pal Action Gal told me what 
really happened and we took action to save you!"

Kit Junard then spoke up. "We held an impromptu X-Files 
auction on stage! We took in over $2500 and came over 
and paid your fine as quick as we could!" he said, arm in 
arm with "Nermal", who interrupted with "And the extra 
money is to tie you over until `Tunguska' & `Terma' make 
it to video! Oh, and we brought you your luggage from the 
Motel 6..." 

Brendan stood stunned. "$2500? But...how?" he 
stammered.

"I sold all my X-Files memorabilia and art!" Ruby Ann 
beamed.

"I sold all my Vancouver souvenirs!" smiled Phyllis.

"I sold all my X-Files collector cards!" added Garth.

"I sold the Savannah chapter of the Klymari Assault Klub 
the rest of my Doof Red Lager!" said J.R.

"We did it for you, Brendan!" proclaimed Salli and 
MadKitty.

At that moment, Brendan realized that maybe Chris Carter 
wasn't so bad for at least giving him the role of Pendrell. 
But that thought quickly faded and he mentally thanked 
Gillian and David for making the show a hit so these great 
folks would have known about him in the first place.

"Well, I can't even begin to thank you all for what you've 
done..." Brendan modestly replied. "If there's ANYTHING I 
can do..."

MadKitty raised her hand and grinned evilly. "Uh, could 
you verify a certain story from Doofie? Her parents left 
rather abruptly last night, and I got this 
very...interesting....e-mail from her this morning on just 
WHY she had to leave..."

***  
EPILOGUE---


Brendan collapsed on his couch just before 11pm. From the 
flight out, the convention, the night in the Atlanta jail, and 
the long flight back to Vancouver, he was completely 
exhausted. Thankfully his "Loyal Admirers" had saved his 
canadian bacon; he might still be in the Atlanta city jail if it 
weren't for them. Heck, if it wasn't for their offer to drive 
him to the airport, he might not have even gotten there 
when he heard the StarKon-hired limo carrying the three 
other guests had collided with a chicken truck and sent 
them and Ed Krymore to the hospital. 

Still, his body was spent, not a mote of energy left. He 
didn't even bother hitting the play button on the blinking 
answering machine. "I'm going to kill Seymour 
tomorrow...as soon I get my strength back..." he muttered 
aloud. Just then the phone rang; after 4 rings, Brendan 
slowly lifted it up.

"H-h-h-ullo...?" he wheezed.

"Brendan! Baby! This is Seymour! Your Agent! I got great 
news for you!"

"Seymour, you sonovabitch! I just had the worst weekend 
of my life thanks to your last piece of crappy advice! I 
getting a new manager first thing tommor..."

Seymour interrupted. "Crappy advice? Hey, Brendan baby! 
You're famous now! The offers are pouring in!"

"What? Offers? What do you mean?" Brendan asked in 
utter shock.

"That wild man act you pulled in Atlanta! Getting arrested 
for a drunken sex romp in the nude! That was brilliant! 
You're on all the TV tabloid news shows! E! News Daily! 
The Daily Show on Comedy Central! Sci-Fi Buzz! And 
you're all over the Internet, too! You're a hit, baby!"

"A hit? Does that translate into job offers?" Brendan asked 
excited, his exhaustion overtaken by the rush of adrenalin. 

"Offers? I got 'em stacked up a mile high on my desk! 
Phone's been ringing off the hook since 5pm!"

"Well, what are they, Seymour?!? What are they?!?"

"Let's see... CON Fusion 1998 in Texas, CON Junction 14 
in Indianapolis, BaltiCon in Baltimore, the Seattle Fantasy 
Faire, TrekFest in Toronto, the San Diego Comic Con, Mile 
High Con 22 in Denver..."

Brendan interrupted, "Uh Seymour....those are more sci-fi 
conventions! Any REAL acting jobs in those offers?" 

"Well, no, but hey! There's another 14 other conventions 
that want you, and one in Berlin, Germany! Even StarKon 
wants you back for shows in Charlotte, Miami, 
Birmingham, and Nashville! Isn't that great, Brendan?!? 
Uh, Brendan? Hello? You still there? Hello? Hello, 
Brendan? Hellooooo..."



THE END