i know it’s not a season 3 episode review, but here’s a little entertainment for you musees. hooray! if you’re new to my ALIAS stuff, it’s the only funny i do, and it’s pretty funny, if you ask me. :-)

SANTA BARBARA

JACK: Marshall, have you seen Sydney?
MARSHALL: Yes sir, lots of times. Pretty lady, just like her mother… uh, not that you’re ugly, sir, but let’s face it, Mr. Bristow, Syd didn’t get her looks from you. I mean, Irina… [whistles, then cowers]
JACK: Marshall, let me rephrase. Have you seen Sydney recently? Recently as in, today?
MARSHALL: Oh, uh, ye…no. No, I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing or with whom.
JACK: Marshall. Listen carefully. [Marshall focuses on Jack’s mouth and puts on his concentrating face.] It is imperative that I speak with my daughter immediately. If you have any knowledge as to her whereabouts, I assure you, it is in her — and your — best interest to divulge this information to me.
MARSHALL: She’s in Santa Barbara. With Vaughn. [gulp] Don’t kill me.
JACK: That sneaky Mr. Vaughn. I’ll deal with him later. For now, Marshall, I need you to make a device for me.
MARSHALL: Oh, sure, uh, sir. What kind of device?
JACK: Wouldn’t you like to know. You don’t have clearance.
***

Vaughn and Sydney are walking along the beach, barefoot, Syd in a skimpy black bikini, Vaughn in sweatpants with no shirt, his chest glistening beautifully.

SYDNEY: Vaughn.
VAUGHN: Hmm.
SYDNEY: I’m cold.
VAUGHN: I know. What I don’t know is why, because it doesn’t get cold here.
SYDNEY: Vaughn.
VAUGHN: You keep saying that.
SYDNEY: Vaughn Vaughn Vaughn. Anyway, why is Weiss here on our getaway vacation?
VAUGHN: Weiss is here? [looks around]
SYDNEY: Yes, he’s hiding behind that palm tree.
VAUGHN: Huh. I’m sure he’s here in case someone tries to interrupt our getaway vacation. He’s protecting us from evil spies.
SYDNEY: Vaughn. Do you remember when we were in France, and that one guy surrendered to us, then that other guy smelled really bad?
VAUGHN: How could I forget? I spent months wondering what Michel Moore was doing in France. But you, Syd. You looked so beautiful and didn’t smell bad at all.
SYDNEY: It was my perfume. Anyway, remember later when we went to that restaurant, and Weiss was monitoring comms for us so he could protect us from evil spies and Michel Moore?
VAUGHN: Right.
SYDNEY: And remember how we ended up in a surprise shootout with some evil spies and killed them and stole their cell phone, and Michel Moore ate all our food, and we were hungry?
VAUGHN: Right. I wasn’t prepared for that.
SYDNEY: Always be prepared, Boy Scout.
VAUGHN: I see your point. But I’m sure Weiss will do better this time.

Jack drives onto the beach in his CIA car and sends sand flying in all directions. Weiss starts firing at the car, finally shooting out a tire, stopping Jack just short of running over Mr. Vaughn. Jack steps out of the car wearing sunglasses, a bullet-proof vest and boxer shorts.

SYDNEY: Dad, what are you doing here?
VAUGHN: And why did you try to run over me?
WEISS: Hey, sorry I shot at you, Jack, I didn’t realize it was you trying to run over Vaughn.
JACK: Forget about it, Mr. Weiss, you’re a lousy shot most of the time. I was counting on you not hitting my tire, though. Which means you’ll be changing my tire. Why don’t you get on that.
WEISS: Right away.
JACK: Mr. Vaughn, there are certain things that are not for you to know. Such as why I attempted to end your life just now. Sydney, I have a mission for you.
SYDNEY: Did you clear it with Dixon?
JACK [face becomes the color of anger]: No, I did not clear it with Marcus Dixon. He is insignificant, and I’m only moments away from once again being his superior. I’m sending you to Bangladesh.
SYDNEY: What’s the mission? Vaughn, stop it.
VAUGHN [stops kissing Sydney’s shoulder]: Jack, I assume you’re sending us both on this mission.
JACK: Unfortunately, Mr. Vaughn, I was unsuccessful in my attack, and you are therefore still alive. So yes, Sydney will need a partner for this mission, and you have better aim than Weiss.
WEISS [mumbling under his breath while changing tire]: That’s why I shot out your tire and made you fail, you big bully.
JACK [snaps his head around and turns on the crazy eyes]: What was that, Mr. Weiss?
WEISS: Wha? Oh, I said, uh, that’s why Vaughn’s the star, and I’m a failure, boo-yah.
SYDNEY: Dad, what’s the mission?
JACK: Your mother has turned up in Bangladesh. She was seen having dinner with your bro– with, um, Mr. Sark, in a Bangladeshian bistro in the Parisian Quarter of Bangladesh.
SYDNEY [grinning like she’s 13 going on 30]: Ooooo! Sark’s gonna be there?!? I hate him, but he’s hot.

In flits a pretty little 5-ft. butterfly in purple spandex and jeweled flip-flops.

VAUGHN: Hi, SarahK, Guardian Butterfly Ambassador of Hot Guy Protection. You’re looking fi– you look nice today.
SYDNEY: Please excuse Michael, SarahK, he’s such a cad.
SARAHK: I don’t mind. He’s hot. Hiya, Jack. Nice undies. Did I hear something about Sarky-pooh?
JACK [looks in horror down at his boxers]: Blast it! I was changing in the car on the drive over, and I was so entranced by the Celine Dion song on the radio that I must have lost track of what I was doing. Too busy singing harmony, I guess. Ah, the power of love. Heh heh.
VAUGHN: You sing harmony? I sing a great lead, maybe we could have a boy band or something.
JACK [rolling his eyes]: Yes, we’ll call it the Spy Boy Band.
SARAHK: That’s a terrible name for a boy band. [wipes a tear from her eye]
VAUGHN: Why are you crying, SarahK?
SARAHK: ‘NSYNC officially called it quits. Say, I could help with your boy band, Jack. Maybe be your official white-girl dance choreographer.
WEISS: Could I be in the boy band? I can sing high.
JACK: There will be no boy band! Weiss, have you finished the tire yet? Get back to work!
SYDNEY: Dad. The mission.
SARAHK: You know, Syd, you should lighten up a little. It’s all work work work for you.
SYDNEY: Dad. The mission.
JACK [dismissing his daydream of synchronized dancing and beautiful harmonies]: Right. We’ve tracked your mother and br– Mr. Sark to an old Covenant safehouse in the Bangladeshian Regional Forest. It’s right next to a Cici’s Pizza recently purchased by Wolfgang Puck, though Mr. Puck has renamed the place. We have received credible intelligence that your mother and Mr. Sark are planning to replace all the pizza crust dough at Pucky Cheese with uranium, thereby making all Pucky Cheese pizzas radioactive. These radioactive pies can then be tossed at passersby, effectively making them dirty bombs, IEDs.
SARAHK: Even the barbecue pizzas? I heart those.
JACK: Not the barbecue. Irina loves those, too, and intelligence has confirmed that the barbecue pizzas are, in fact, uranium-free. Sydney, Mr. Vaughn, it is vital to the Bangladeshian Regional Forest’s economic development that you stop Laura [SarahK raises her eyebrows], I mean Irina, and Mr. Sark. At $5.47 per pizza, this would cripple the economy there and force the indigenous peoples to live off Bangladeshian monkeys, which are unclean. You see the crisis.
SYDNEY: Of course. Monkeys. What do you want us to do?
JACK: I think you’ve been around Mr. Vaughn too much. For starters, I want you to stop your mother and Mr. Sark from carrying out their mission. Duh.
VAUGHN: How do you propose we do that?
JACK: Mr. Vaughn, you speak only when spoken to. [SarahK slaps Jack’s hand.] Sorry, Butterfly. I was getting to that, Mr. Vaughn. Marshall has made this device [pulls out device] at my request.
SARAHK: Is that a pizza box? Is there barbecue pizza in there? I’m hungry.
VAUGHN: Aren’t you hungry, Syd?
SYDNEY: Yeah. I’m hungry.
SARAHK: And Jack, did you just scribble out “Papa John’s” and write “Pucky Cheese” on there in crayon?
JACK: Marshall did that. I apologize, SarahK, but it only looks like a pizza box. When you open this box, it emits radioactive anti-beams that attract the uranium in the pizza dough and effectively neutralize the pizza crusts.
VAUGHN: So it, like, sucks out the uranium and makes the pizzas less dirty?
JACK: Yes, Mr. Vaughn, it, like, sucks out the uranium. You were never good enough for my daughter.
WEISS: Mmm… Pizza… Wait. If the uranium is sucked out of the pizza crusts, won’t the toppings be left unsupported and fall on the ground? That’s a lot of food, just wasted, on the ground. I should come along to help reduce waste.
JACK: Whatever, Mr. Weiss. Sydney, be careful. You have Vaughn and Weiss there to help you, so you’re on your own.
SARAHK: Jack, can I go? I mean, Vaughn and Sark and Weiss — that’s a high percentage of Hot Guys, and I have to protect them from evil.
JACK [looks disappointed]: You may go, SarahK. I had hoped we would go out for karaoke, though.
SARAHK: Maybe after the mission?
JACK: Of course. I’ll stay in LA and golf with Dixon. Oh, and… bring me back a barbecue pizza, will you?
SARAHK: Of course. See ya, Jack.
JACK: Not if I see you first, love.

Will Jack, Vaughn and Weiss form a boy band? Will Syd be their manager and SarahK their groupie? Will SarahK drool when she sees Mistuh Sahhk? Will Irina and Sahhk sabotage Pucky Cheese? Will the spies figure out a good name for their boy band? Will Jack kick Dixon’s butt in golf? Will SarahK and Jack sing “I Got You Babe” at karaoke? Stay tuned for Part 2…