Read Online Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang by Chelsea Handler - Free Book Online

don't we stage a little dog funeral somewhere and have our little producer, Mr. Johnny Kansas, film the whole episode. You're on Leno Tuesday night. You know how much Ted likes to be on television."
    This was true. As much as he pretends he hates it, Ted loves to be talked about or displayed on television.
    "Johnny!" Tom yelled.
    Johnny walked in, and Tom asked him what his plans were for this weekend.
    "I've got a christening on Sunday," he told us. "I'm free Saturday."
    "Then Saturday it is. Where can we have the funeral?" Tom asked me.
    "Well, it would have to be somewhere on our side of town, because there's no way I'm going to drive forty-five minutes for a fake funeral. How about the Santa Monica Pier? We can say we're spreading Dudley's ashes because he wanted to be cremated."
    "The Santa Monica Pier!" Brad was now slamming his head on the arm of the sofa. "I can't take it! I can't take it! Dog ashes at the Santa Monica Pier!"
    "Brad, pull yourself together, you fucking idiot. This is business," Tom told him.
    "Okay, okay, okay, wait! You have to do the funeral after five so I can come."
    "No, you can't come. You'll give it away before he even finds out," I admonished him.
    "No! I have to be there."
    "Brad is not coming," Johnny said, looking at him in disgust. "He'll ruin everything."
    "Brad, you're not coming," I told him again. "But I will call Ted on speakerphone to tell him about the funeral, and you can listen."
    "Not on my watch," Johnny said as he walked out. "I will not be a party to this other than videotaping the funeral."
    "Hi, sweetie," Ted said in his very melodramatic way when he picked up the phone.
    "They're having a funeral on Saturday at the Santa Monica Pier."
    Brad jumped off the sofa and buried himself under Tom's desk, which had been vacated when Tom stood to shut the door.
    "A funeral? I just got off with John, and he didn't say anything about a funeral."
    "You just got off with John?" I asked, thinking I was screwed because I hadn't even spoken to John yet. "And?"
    "And he sounded awful. I don't think he suspects anything. He just sounded terrible."
    I looked over at Tom, who was standing by the door rubbing his goatee, and his eyes widened.
    "Well, did he say anything about what might have caused it?"
    "No, he says they just had open-heart surgery on the dog a few months ago, so he doesn't understand what happened."
    The amount of fluid that you could hear coming out of Brad's body was unsettling. Luckily, the desk muffled his fits of laughter enough for Ted not to hear. I walked behind the desk and kicked him.
    "He didn't say anything about a funeral, Chelsea. I don't think we have to go."
    "No, his assistant is e-mailing everyone at the party. They want everyone who was there when he left the world to be there when he enters the ocean."
    That was the only line I actually had trouble delivering with a straight face, and I fumbled a little but made a quick recovery. "It's Saturday."
    "Saturday?"
    "Yeah."
    "Oh, my God. I have to go to a dog funeral on a Saturday?"
    "It's at the Santa Monica Pier."
    "Well, at least that's not too far."
    This was just like Ted, to have a problem with the event as a whole but not take issue with the idea that the dog's ashes were basically being spread off a circus fairground into the Pacific Ocean.
    By now the desk was vibrating, and I knew that Brad wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, so I ended the conversation with a final sniffle. "I'll call you later," I said, then hung up the phone.
    "Did you tell John that you were faking his dog's death?" Tom asked.
    "No, but he's familiar with the inner workings of this office, so he must have put two and two together."
    "Pretty impressive work on John's behalf. I didn't know he had it in him. I think your next move is to have Eva call John's assistant and have her send out an e-mail asking everyone at the party if they saw Dudley eat any of the hors d'oeuvres at the party. And make sure you e-mail Claire and Jake