Ever wonder how it went down when Lance showed up in Orlando to meet and audition for the guys? Well, we found out. Also, the other guys' first impressions...

When Lance found out he was going to maybe change his life forever by auditioning for this new singing group, he packed his 427 Taz shirts, his make-up bag, his 276 pairs of tight jeans, some clean boxer-briefs, his 9 pictures of Toby, his WWJD book, his 20, 872 Beanie Babies, and his 9 posters of Mississippi, and gets his ass to O-town. He steps off the bus to his hotel, and checks into his room. He takes a shower, and starts to put on a Taz shirt. "No," he thought, "they might think Tazzy is a little gay." So he roots around in his clothes and finds a Batman shirt. "Yee-haw! This is sure to impress 'um." So he proceeds to take a taxi to the wherehouse where the rest of the guys are waiting. "Gawrsh," he wonders, "we don't have none o these big buildins in Mississippi."  He finally arrives, and this is what went down...

Lance: Howdy!
JC: You're late! (writes furiously in a book, while frowning)
Lance: (looking confused) Sorry, ah triayud to get here awn tayum.
Joey: (thinking what a fine girl! oh, that's the new guy! shit!)  Have you eaten yet? I'm starved!
Justin: Yo, dawg, we gots to hear him sing first. Dayum, dat's all yoo think about! Food!
Joey: Yeah, but...
Lance: Well, uh, do ya want me to sing now?

All were silent a minute, looking at him. Chris was eyeing this poor country bumpkin, wondering  if he knew anything about styling that horrible hair, or if he had just woken up and did NOTHING with it. Justin was thinking that if this was a southerner, he was not proud to be from the south anymore, though he was from the ghe-tto and not the farm like this guy. Joey was thinking about food, and how much Lance looked like a hot girl.  And JC was shaking his head-already, this guy was on his bad side because he was 2.7 minutes late. Tsk, tsk.

Justin: Ok, well, homes, lez get dis par-tay started, yo.
JC: (nodding) Yes, we need to get this par-tay started right away, since Lance was late getting here. Yo.

Justin stares at JC.

Justin: Yo, man, don't be dissin on me an' mah posse's style. You be all up in mah shit, an' dat ain't coo, yo.
Chris: Justin! You're white! Now, let's sing.
JC: Yes, let us do our thang. Homies.
Justin: Shi..I kick yo white ass if yoo keep dat up!
Joey: Guys! Stop! You know, we don't have all day you know. And I'm hungry, so let's hurry this  up, cuz I'm hungry!
Chris: All right, now let's see. Lance, do you know the National Anthem?
Lance: Ah know it frunt'urds and back'urds.
Chris: Uh, oKAY. Well, let me see if I remember it.
Joey: You should. You were around when it was written.
Chris: I know, but it's so hard to remember things these days.
JC: Come on! Let's sing! Okay, Lance, you add a bass part to our harmony. Afterwards, we'll do a jazz ver-sion of it. If I like ya, we'll keep ya.
Joey: And if you can cook, and not wear Batman shirts, we'll keep ya. Superman's better!
Justin: An' yo, loose da do. Yo hair be whack. Spike it up or sumfin, an dye it, an' we'll keep ya.
Chris: And if you get a car to take me places, since I don't have one, we'll keep ya.
Lance: Uh, okey-dokey. Let's sing.
The other four: And don't sing with a southern accent!!!
Lance: Okay. (sniff)

So the guys start to sing the National Anthem. Lance is wonderful, and blends in perfectly. The best part is at the end, where he blows them away with one of the lowest notes he's ever hit.

Justin: Dayum, foo, yoo know yo bass shit good!
Lance: (meekly) Thank ya.
Chris: Well, I guess that's it. What do you drive?
Lance: Well, nuthin rayut now. I ain't got enny money.
Joey: Well, we hopefully hope we can make a lot off this group, huh, guys?
JC: Hopefully hope? Okay, well, we need to talk to that fat guy, Lou. Chris are you gonna call     him?
Chris: Who? Oh, yeah, that guy from Transcon. Yeah, I'll call him.  After my nap.
Justin: Alright! Lez go get rich, yo!
JC: Not so fast, Justin. We need to see Lance do some dancing.
Lance: Dancin? I cain't dance at all.
Justin: Man, anybody can dance at least a little, foo! Not as good as dis, do'...

Justin starts dancing, moving his ass, doing some pelvic thrusts. Lance's eyes widen.

Lance: Ah cain't do THAT!!
Chris: Sure you can! We'll teach you how! Now what song do you want to dance to? We've got       everything.
Lance: Do ya have Garth Brooks?
Chris: Uh, somewhere. Lemme go look.

He looks in his huge pile of records until he finds the one he wants.

Lance: Okay, that's good. Uh, do ah just start dancin?
JC: Yeah, just move around or something. We just have to see what potential you have.
Lance: Okay. Here ah go...

The poor boy starts dancing, patting his chest everynow and then, wagging his finger, moving kind of to the beat. The others stare at him with horrid looks on their faces. Lance finally finishes, out of breath.

Justin: Dayum, homeboy! Even Chris can dance bettah dan yous. An' he's got arthritis!
JC: (shooting Justin a dirty look) Now, what he means is, let us four talk over here for a minute.

Lance nods and sits down, as the other four gather into a huddle on the other side of the big room.

JC: (quietly) So what do you guys think? He sings wonderfully. And he's got the potential to be hot.

The other three look at him.

JC: Uh, I mean, you know. Fan-appealing.
Chris: Uh, huh. Well, he seems alright, for a country guy. But geez, what's up with those tight jeans? Does he think those are cool? And isn't he wearing makeup, or is my cataracts acting up again?
Joey: No, I think you might be right, I think. Actually, he sings really well, actually. But he dances horribly. We'll have to help him out or hide him in the back or something. He seems pretty nice, though. And smart.
Justin: Foo, ever-body'z smart to yous. Well, ah gotta put mah opinion in, here. Dat boy iz whack. I don't know what kinda crack he be smokin, but dat hair? Dat shirt? And dat dancin? Wuzup wit dat, ya'll? I dunno bout him, yo. But he duz sing pretty good, an' he makes me soun' bettah than normal, if dat's possible. I sez let him in. I gots da skillz to help hiz white boy ass out.
Chris: Justin, for the last time, you're white, too.
Justin: Whachoo be sayin, foo? I gots sum whoopass right here to open on yo ass if you isn't careful!
JC: Boys! Quiet! Now, okay, all who is okay with letting Lance in, say "Ay".
All: Ay.
JC: Okay, then, it's settled. He's in.  (calls out to Lance)  Hey! Come over here!

Lance walks slowly over to the group, just knowing he didn't get in. He wished he had spent more time on the dancing parts for Attache than flirting with the other guys.

JC: Well, buddy, you're in. We're unanimous.
Joey: We're what?
JC: Nevermind, Joey. Okay, now that that's done, I'm ready to take a break. Why don't you come over here and sing some jazz ver-sions with me, Lance?
Justin: Nah, man, he'z gonna come hang wit me, aren't ya Lance? We'z gonna work on dos thrusts a little, yo.
Joey: No way! He's coming with me! I'm going to get him a Superman shirt and a bigger pair of jeans. And besides that, I need someone to help me carry my lunch, besides.
Chris: Oh fuck off, pig. He's coming over here, so I can try and work with his hair. Maybe I can do something cool with it, like dreads. Yeah! And I'm gonna take away his makeup bag, too.

As the guys continued to fight over who Lance would go with during their lunch break, he watched them, wide-eyed and frightened. Would he make friends with them? Would they accept his love for Mississippi? Would they respect his sexuality?

As time went on, the boys grew closer. Lance and JC grew VERY close. Joey continued to hit on him until he finally started looking like a guy. Justin started to confide in him, since he was "respektabul an shit".  Chris started to be nice to him when he got his 4-runner. He stopped wearing makeup, and now looks, well, hot. He still misses his home state of..(say it together) Mississippi. And he still likes Taz and beanie babies, even though he tries to hide the stuff from the other guys sometimes, or else they would take them for a prank, just to make him cry.

                                                                     The End

Aww, poor Lancie. The guys have always been mean! Oh, well, go ahead and send me back to BEFORE da party.

Lance mentioned his home state

times in one hour.