[i]'The acoustics are absolutely phenomenal in here'[/i]

That had been the main thing Brett Faulkner had been thinking of before things went dark. She had been, as she so often did, seated in an empty theater, playbill in hand, and eyes taking in the environment. Though in this case, her eyes were focused on a sharp dressed woman in the center stage, barking orders at stagehands and set designers like a foreman at a construction site barking orders at workers. That woman was Eliza Faulkner, star of the stage and one day the screen, though to some in the know she was known as 'The Furie', then The Fury due to her temper; but to Brett, she was mother. Brett had accompanied Eliza to various rehearsals and preparations, and this one was no different. How else would Brett grow comfortable with theaters, the stage, the flashing lights? 

It was those flashing lights that did it. More bright than flashing, as Brett was looking around, tuning out the screams of perfectionist mother, her eyes crossed paths with a bright overhead light. Too bright. The flash was the last thing sh remembered seeing before everything went dark. 

It was still dark, but that was probably because her eyes were closed. But not her ears, no,  not those, as she was hearing conversations. She squirmed and slowly her eyes opened to a blurry scene. This wasn't the theater in New York. This...this was a lot less elegant. A lot...worse. How pedestrian, wherever this was. The first thing Brett did was brush the strands of platinum blonde hair from her face; and her hair was unkempt, as if things couldn't get any worse. At least her outfit was in tact, from what hr hands could tell. Still the same black heels, the same designer skirt that cost high end triple digit figures, and her blouse was still quite intact. 

In fact, were it not for the hair, Brett would assume nothing had gone terribly wrong, that she had simple dozed off. But it was the voices, the voices that alerted her to the fact that she was not alone, that she was surrounded by others in a similar situation of confusion and general bewilderment.

The problem now was WHAT these voices were saying. What were those awful sounding...puns? Could they be called puns? She listened in, shaking her head with each new addition to the mix until her breaking point was reached and a horrible realization hit her. A realization that she had to exclaim in a yell.

[color=yellow][b]"OH MY GOD, I'M SURROUNDED BY FUCKING LOSERS."[/b][/color] 


That didn't explain just what had happened, but it made her feel better. That  was what mattered most.