Meanwhile, back at Oprah's studio, the frantic pace of working on an hour long television show escalates even as the clock ticks toward "show time". Oprah is reading background material while a makeup artist and a hairstylist apply finishing touches. She is the calm at the centre of the hurricane of activity that surrounds her.

A Producer hurries in, "Dr. Phil's ETA is five minutes."

"Thank you George. And how are Tall Pockets and Anexplorer doing?" Oprah replies.

"Tall Pockets is fine. He'll be a natural. But Anexplorer is huddled in the corner of the Green Room whimpering something about being a writer not a celebrity and refusing makeup."

"Oh Lord," Oprah sighs. "Have Dr. Phil speak to him when he gets here, will you?"

A Production Assistant sticks her head in the door, "Three minutes Oprah!"

"Thank you Shirley!" Oprah waves her hand and stands up. Being professionals the makeup artist and the hair stylist move flawlessly with her, still intent on their tasks, as Oprah walks the long hallways toward the studio.

Her theme music has been keyed and the applause signs are lit, the audience is responding with wild enthusiasm. At the last minute the makeup artist and the hair stylist fall by the wayside as Oprah steps out of the wings and onto the stage.

Cameras float and track her every movement.

"Today," she is telling the audience, "We will be traveling to a very strange place that I, for one, never knew existed. It is not a geographical location, more a state of mind. A very diverse and unusual community known as Blogstream. Our first guest for the evening is the creator of that community, Pioneer."

The audience responds warmly. Pioneer, looking even better looking in person than his photograph, walks confidently forward, waving to the crowd. He takes Ophrah's hand and settles comfortably on the couch.

"Tell me Pioneer," Oprah begins, "Why do you never respond to e-mail any more..."

*****************************************************************

Forty minutes later the show is nearing its conclusion. Seated with Pioneer are Taylor and Whispered Promises wearing identical dresses, Gloria is delivering letters of appreciation to the audience, several staff members are chasing Dalpha's Major Danes around the studio, the FBI are escorting Whit to a back room for interrogation after he made the embarrassing mistake of being truthful on air, LaLePop is demonstrating how to ride a bike and paint at the same time, Sherry is sharing cat photos with Oprah, Celtic Mist is shearing a sheep, Rubble is teaching dance moves to a member of the production staff, Sinann is responding to a question from Dr. Phil, Crone is casting a spell for the woman in the audience with warts, Katie is answering a reporter's questions back stage on white nose disease in bats, Hawk is standing in the balcony, white robes flowing, his wand pointed threateningly at HeatherScott trying to remove Bry's twenty year house hunting curse, while Bohemian just seems to be looking for some place to hide.

"I have one final guest for this evening and then a special announcement to make."

There is a loud roar from backstage and a curtain starts to smolder.

"Scratch, honey, can you talk to Asa. Your dragon seems a little upset."

Scratch hustles backstage where a verbal commotion can be heard before everything goes quiet.

Oprah smiles at the camera, her calm only slightly shaken. "My final guest for the evening was a great help to me in coming to my decision. As you know I was torn between giving all blogstream members a new car or free psychotherapy."

Dr. Phil, could you bring out our special guest." Dr. Phil appears with a tall mustached man.

The audience falls silent.

"And who do we have here?" Oprah asks.

"Wall y'ah know Oprah," Dr, Phil turns to the audience, "Ah was assigned to assess the mental state of the 'stream, as people who actually live in this community call it. And ah was beginnin' t'despair. That dog just don't hunt, if ya know what I mean."

Oprah looks a little confused.

"And then, ah discovered this here gentleman. And do y'know what this nice man, does Oprah. His name is Azron and he is the 'streams psychotherapist."

The audience breaks into wild applause.

Oprah is astounded, "You mean you have taken on the task of providing psychotherapy to...to...well, all this" She gestures around the studio with her hand.

Azron smiles modestly.

"So there is no need for psychotherapy for members of the 'stream?" Oprah ponders. "Then that means I will buy..."

Dr. Phil holds up his hand to stop her. "Now lets not get to hasty. Ah also discovered the 'stream is a virtual community, where everyone is connected to each other electronically. So they never need to travel."

"Why then the gift of a car would be an insult to them," Oprah stammers in astonishment. "These people are so far evolved beyond the rest of us, it puts the Secret to shame."

Behind the camera, a producer is frantically whirling his hand to indicate the show is nearing its end.

Oprah turns to the camera, "I'd like to thank all my guests from Blogstream and a special thanks to Dr. Phil. On a related note, for tomorrow's show, I have chosen the next book for our Book of the Month club. It was written by a relative of a member of blogstream. The book is called The Autobiography of Madam Sadie, a tribute to Bud Light, by Tennessee's foremost psychic.

"Good night, and remember to vote for Tall Pockets my new choice for President of the United States."

Key the credits. Fade to Black.

Phillip Calvin McGraw, Phd, Psychologist, Relationship and Life Strategy Expert, TV personality and author, relaxed in a speedo and baseball cap beside his swimming pool and tried to put the past week behind him.

It had only been a week since receiving the phone call from Oprah Winfrey that had changed his life. Somehow she had come into contact with a denizen of Blogstream and was torn between two impulses. She either wanted to offer all members of the 'stream free psychological services for having to tolerate this Anexplorer person or buy them all a free car.

Dr. Phil was charged with deciding which of those two alternatives to recommend. It seemed a straight forward task, one he and his staff were eminently qualified to tackle.

He send two of his top researchers into the 'stream.

They never returned.

He sent two more.

They vanished without a trace.

He sent his top researcher, a phd psychologist like himself, a contributor to the DSM 4, the standard diagnostic Bible of the American Psychological Association, author of twenty peer reviewed papers on various psychological disorders.

The next day the only trace of the poor man was an e-mail message on Dr. Phil's computer reading, "Having a wonderful time, glad you're not here! How's that workin' for ya!"

In desperation Dr. Phil had chanced upon a new strategy. He had learned of a psychologist who had a member of the 'stream as a patient and had sent for her. The click of high heels on the flagstone of the poolside alerted him to her presence.

He opened his eyes to see his wife leading a radiant young woman in skirt and blouse toward the pool.

Dr. Phil waved his hand in greeting. "Doctor Feelgoddess, I presume? You all 'll forgive me if I don't get up. I'm kind of weighted down by this here laptop."

Dr. Phil's wife pulled over a chair for the young woman.

"Now Dr. Ah unnerstand y'all have seenin' a member of the blogstream as a patient and that he's signed a release permittn me to talk to y'all?"

"What?" said Dr. Feelgoddess.

"Ah unnerstand y'all..."

The radiant woman laughed and held up her hand, "I'm sorry, I was only joking. That's a cute accent you have." She smiled radiantly. "And yes, Scratchy has been a patient of mine for some time."

"An would y'all say he was a typical citizen of this blogstream?"

"Well he recently lost his mojo for a while, but he seems to have found it again. Scratchy lives in a Tomb with Ralphie T Lion who watches ESPN, Boris The Gremlin and the dust bunny gang who live under his futon, Mr. P the Tiger, Asa the Dragon, Barney Fife, Chester the Cheetah who sleeps all the..."

"Really, and how's that workn' for him?"

"Well he's not afraid of the dark but he does worry about bloggremlins."

Dr. Phil sighed. "Now, just so y'all know, I haven't just fallen off the turnip truck. Y'all say he's worried and he looses things? And he consults you professionally?"

"I wouldn't let him know, but Scratchy is one of my favourite patients. I look forward to our sessions together."

"And how well is he tolerating have this Anexplorer character runnin' around his neck of the woods?"

"Oh, I think Anexplorer may be the least of his worries."

"Wall then I think I have ma answer. Thank y'all for comin' t'see me, Dr. Feelgoddess."

A free car or free psychological services? Dr. Phil was now certain of his answer. Pulling a tiny cell phone from his speedo, he hit speed dial.

"Hello Oprah, y'all remember that question y'asked me last week. Well here's what I think y'all should do...."

Oprah Winfrey politely fights to keep a straight face as Anexplorer and his wolf enter the great hall of her mansion. She looks from the "View From The Bluffs" blog on her laptop back to the man and wolf advancing toward her in sheer disbelief.

"Oh this is just too precious," she says, beginning to giggle. "Those are real buckskins, aren't they?"

"It was all Tall Pocket's idea," Anexplorer complains. "He thought I should look like the icon on my blog."

"And is that an English Springer Spaniel in a wolf's costume? Tell me it isn't"

Lindsay whines pitifully and shakes, the mask slipping sideways on her head. For a moment she looks unnervingly like a dog with two heads. Anexplorer looks embarrassed and begins removing the costume from the obviously uncomfortable animal. "My dog Lindsay," he explains. "I got the idea from one of Dalpha's blogs. She posted all these pictures of dogs dressed up in these costumes...."

"Well, Mr. Anexplorer," Oprah interrupts, still smiling. "That was quite the entrance. My secretary tells me you write this blog" She looked down at the image on her computer. "And this Tall Pockets person thought it would make a good book."

"I told him it was a stupid idea."

"Actually, I thought you said, 'Find me a publisher and I'll take her money with a smile.'"

"Well, that's kind of the same thing."

"And didn't he also say you were a few chapters short of a book."

"Well, yes. But that's not what he meant."

"MMmmm." muses Oprah unconvinced. "So tell me a little about your blog."

"Well I tell little anecdotes about my life and talk about taking Lindsay for runs along the top of the bluffs."

"And have you done something interesting with your life, Anexplorer. Are you, perhaps, a famous person back in Canada."

"Well no."

"Have you invented something the world should know about."

"Inventing really isn't my thing."

"You call yourself an explorer, have you explored interesting and dangerous places?"

"My mother almost dropped me in the middle of the Atlantic ocean when I was three."

Oprah looks up from the story on her laptop. "And since you were three."

"I've been on vacation in Florida a few times."

Oprah looks hopeful, "Where in Florida?"

"Disney World."

"So your pitching the concept of a book about someone who has done nothing interesting with his life and spends his time walking his dog back and forth along the bluffs."

Lindsay pauses as well, waiting for his answer. "Basically. That's about it."

"Well, I'll have to review your blog with my staff and we'll let you know if we're interested in the concept."

"Really?"

"No, I'm just being gracious and letting you down easy. This is as stupid an idea as I've heard in a long time." The Oprah's face turns to one of suspicion, "This isn't one of George Clooney's practical jokes, is it?"

Anexplorer's shoulders slump and he turns to go.

"And those buckskins would fit better if you lost about twenty pounds."

"So my doctor keeps telling me."

"I know a good diet plan," she calls after him.

Five minutes later, Oprah is on the verge of recovering from the experience when her secretary enters a second time.

"Tell me that Anexplorer hasn't returned?"

"Oh no madam. But it is another person from blogstream. Her name is Bella and she wants to talk to you about another blogger named Fairweather."

"And is this Bella in buckskins, too?"

"Oh no madam, actually what she's wearing is body paint."

And that is when Oprah reaches for the phone and places a call to Dr. Phil.

Oprah Winfrey is sitting comfortably in her favorite chair in the great hall of her mansion, reviewing the galleys of O magazine on her laptop. She is deeply engaged in the project, puzzled by the feeling that something is missing from this month's edition, but unable to resolve that feeling into something specific.

The door at the opposite end of the great hall opens quietly and one of her secretaries hurries toward her, pausing briefly to curtsy awkwardly beside Oprah's chair.

Oprah smiles, "Rachel, there's really no need to curtsy. Honestly you have to get over that. I'm just one of the girls." Oprah laughs, "But if you must, perhaps just a little lower next time."

Rachel is flustered. "Yes madam."

Oprah's face becomes more serious, but warm,"I'm joking Rachel. Do you get that honey." She looks deeply into her secretary's eyes seeking some spark of awareness. "Now what have you come to tell me?"

"There's a gentleman here to see you madam. His name is Anexplorer and he was referred by Tall Pockets, the Presidential candidate."

Oprah is surprised, "Interesting. A Presidential candidate from which country?"

"Why here, madam. The United States."

"Honestly? We have a candidate for President called Tall Pockets? You gotta love this country."

"He's from the mid west, I believe, madam. Farm Country. He doesn't own a rooster so he crows himself in the morning."

Oprah looks at her secretary as if she has lost her mind.

"Rachel, are you alright?" She asks kindly.

Rachel is quivering, but only slightly. "But he only crows after his first sip of coffee, Madam."

Oprah is becoming concerned about her secretary but decides to plunge on. "And who has this Tall Pockets referred to us?"

"He says his name is Anexplorer madam. He writes a blog and Tall Pockets wonders if we might be interested in publishing it. But madam," Oprah's secretary leans toward her, "He is dressed in buckskins and seems to have a wolf with him!"

Now Oprah is interested, thinking of the visuals. "A wolf?"

"Well a very tiny wolf madam." The secretary reflects, "A very odd looking tiny wolf."

Oprah takes her secretary's hand, "Rachel, you're sure your alright?"

"From Canada."

"Pardon."

"The wolf, and the Anexplorer gentleman. They're from Canada."

"And do they crow in the morning too, Rachel? Because they don't have a rooster."

Rachel looks flustered, wondering if this is a serious question or just some gentle teasing.

Oprah sighs. It appears her new secretary has no sense of humour. "Alright, Rachael. Show them in. This is just too odd not to have a look."

Rachel curtsies, a little lower this time, and retreats across the marble floor to the doorway at the end of the great room. She opens the door and Anexplorer enters. With his wolf.

TO BE CONTINUED

THE FOLLOWING COMMUNICATION TOOK PLACE BETWEEN ANEXPLORER AND (PRESIDENTAL CANDIDATE) TALL POCKETS ON MAY 3, 2008

TALL POCKETS:

At MY age, it's just NICE to see folks ENJOY each other.
Now, WRITE a BOOK on HOW ya' DO it!
Repeat after TallPockets:
"OPRAH! OPRAH! OPRAH!"
WINK.
More than a few pages short of a good novel, yours ....

ANEXPLORER:

You get me a publisher, Tall Pockets, and I'll take his money! With a smile!

TALL POCKETS:

HELLO, again.
Methinks that MISS OPRAH would be MORE than GLAD to PUBLISH ya' herself? .... Or through someone SHE knows? .... After all, she does have the BOOK OF THE MONTH t.v. club, ya' know .... hehehe ....
WRITE on anex!
My BEST,
TallPockets.

TOMORROW, ANEXPLORER FANTASIZES ABOUT WHAT SUCH A MEETING WITH OPRAH MIGHT BE LIKE



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