by Luke Sharpe
The TV studio is a beehive of activity. People push large TV cameras into position, talking into headsets. Others walk by carrying chairs, pitchers of water, or clipboards. Still others stand up on tall ladders hanging glittering stars in front of long curtains at the back of the set, while some stand on even taller ladders, adjusting lights to illuminate that set. The constant hum makes me think of an actual beehive.
The set itself features a small stage in the center. On one side of the set is a podium with “Chris Fernell” spelled out in fancy letters. I think they flew that in from his studio in Los Angeles. On the other side is a long table with signs lined up at the front edge. Each judge has his or her name on one of the signs.
“Not so high!” shouts a woman with a headset and clipboard to a man hanging a star.
Chris leads us over to a woman standing at a tall desk. Three TV monitors line the desk. The woman is wearing a headset and is juggling three clipboards as people crowd around her, bombarding her with questions. Apparently, the more clipboards a person has, the more important he or she is.
I wonder if we’ll get clipboards.
Chris scoots us around the outside of the crowd.
“Ann!” he shouts. Moving as one, the crowd steps back to let Chris—and all of us—in closer. “I’d like you to meet our judges: Billy, Manny, Emily, and Abby,” says Chris. “Guys, this is Ann Liveton, our director.”
“Great to meet you all,” says Ann, as three more clipboards are shoved in her face. She grabs each one, scans the papers attached to it, then quickly scribbles her initials and hands each clipboard back. “WHERE’S CARL?”
The entire studio suddenly breaks into applause. I turn around and spot Carl Bourette walking toward us.
“Nice shot yesterday, Carl!” shouts the man on the ladder. “An upper deck dinger!”
“Go, Hyenas!” yells a woman placing a water glass by each seat at the judges table.
Emily and Manny look confused. I smile. “Carl hit another game-winning homer in last night’s Hyenas game,” I explain.
“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late,” says Carl. “Had to do a bunch of interviews.”
We’re lucky to get Carl during the preseason, and actually picked the dates for our show based on a rare time that the Hyenas had a couple of days off in a row. “It’s okay,” I say.
“The judges are in the house!” Chris shouts. “Let’s go huddle over by your table.”
The five of us gather at the table.
“So let’s review the scoring rules,” says Chris.
“Okay,” I begin. “We’ve divided the judging into five categories—originality, functionality, usefulness, marketability, and ease of manufacturing. Each invention will be scored in each of these categories, rated on a scale from one to five. At the end of today’s show, we’ll total up the scores and pick the six highest scoring ideas. These six inventors will move on to the finals tomorrow.”
“Works for me!” says Chris. “So, why don’t you judges head to the green room. We’ve got SNACKS AND STUFF. I’ll be in to join you in a little bit.”
“Snacks and stuff” hardly begins to cover what is waiting for us backstage in the green room. Sandwiches of all kinds, five varieties of chips, salads, cakes, sodas, juice, on and on.
Oddly enough, even with all this incredible-looking food, I’m not hungry. Preshow nerves, maybe? Not sure.
“I can’t eat anything either,” says Abby, stepping up next to me. “I get this way before a big test or if I have to present a paper to my class. I’m okay in a small group, but I get pretty nervous in front of an audience.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say.
“You must be excited, not only getting to be on TV but also getting to pick your next big invention,” says Carl, stepping up next to Abby and me at the food table and stuffing an entire peanut butter sandwich into his mouth.
Clearly, he has no preshow nerves. I guess when you play baseball in front of thirty thousand people every day, doing a TV show is no big deal.
“Yeah, I’m excited and a little nervous,” I admit.
“No worries, Billy, you’ll do great! I remember my rookie year, my first game. I was so nervous that I put on my teammate’s SHOES. They were TWO SIZES TOO BIG! I flopped around the field for the first two innings! Man, my teammates never let me forget that!”
As Carl talks, I notice that across the room, Manny has pulled Emily aside and is leaning in, speaking quietly into her ear. He looks very serious, even for Manny. Emily has a shocked expression on her face like she is totally surprised by what Manny is telling her.
This is now the second time I’ve seen Manny and Emily whispering about something. What are they talking about?
Maybe Manny is even more upset than I thought about being left out of the photo and “Right Next Door” article. Maybe he’s telling Emily that he doesn’t want to work with me anymore. Maybe he doesn’t even want to be my friend. All this just as we are about to tell the whole world that we’re looking for Sure Things’ Next Big Thing!
At that moment the stage manager walks into the green room carrying a clipboard.
“Okay, judges, time for the show,” she says, pointing to the hallway leading out to the set.
THIS IS IT. No time to talk to Manny. As I head out of the green room, I worry that this show might be the last thing we ever do together.
I step onto the set and hear the buzz of the audience. The place is packed. I squint through the bright lights and spot Dad, Mr. and Dr. Reyes, and Mrs. Nielson right in the front row. Dad is waving wildly at me. I wave back.
I take my seat at the long judges’ table. A stack of printed forms sits in front of me. Each form has a place for the contestant’s name, invention, and a list of the five scoring categories for me to fill in. Emily sits on one side of me and Abby on the other. Manny and Carl are each at one end of the table. I realize then that I am front and center—and Manny is off to the side—once again.
Across the set, Chris Fernell stands at his podium. He fiddles with his microphone as a makeup person dabs some powder onto his cheeks and a hair stylist sprays some stuff onto his head.
The stage manager steps out.
“We will be live on the air in ONE MINUTE!” she announces to the audience. “Is everyone ready for some big-time cheering?”
“Yeah!” comes the loud reply from the audience.
“Oh, we can do better than that, can’t we?”
“YEAH!” comes the thunderous response.
“All right! Thirty seconds!” the stage manager shouts.
I feel my heart start to pound. I begin to wonder if this whole thing is a really bad idea.
“Twenty seconds!”
I look over at the other judges. Emily looks cool and collected. Abby is chewing on her lower lip. Manny is casually checking his phone. Carl smiles and flashes me a thumbs up. I’m suddenly really glad we asked him to be here.
“Ten seconds!”
Here we go.
“And five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one! Showtime! We are on the air!”
Showtime!
MUSIC BLARES AND spotlights sweep the room, lighting up the glittering stars on the set.
“Hi, everyone, and welcome to a very special live television event!” says Chris.
A thunderous cheer explodes from the audience.
“Sure Things, Inc. and the Hyenas Present the Next Big Thing, Part One!” Chris continues. The name of the show is definitely a mouthful, but the Hyenas’ management insisted on it.
But it doesn’t seem to matter to the studio audience, because they give another big cheer.
“You all know about Sure Things, Inc., the company that brought you the All Ball, the Sibling Silencer, the Gross-to-Good Powder, and more.”
I glance at Abby, who has a huge grin on her face. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to people making a big deal about my inventions. I kinda forget how AMAZING it feels. But Abby just heard the name of her invention announced on a TV s
how airing all over the world—and that’s pretty cool.
“Ever wonder how the folks at Sure Things, Inc. get their great ideas for new inventions? For new products that make your lives easier and more fun? For the Next Big Thing?”
Chris is on a roll.
“Well, today and tomorrow, you’ll find out! Young inventors from around the world will present their ideas to our panel of judges. At the end of today’s show, the judges will narrow the contestants down to six finalists who will return tomorrow when our judges will pick one winner, one invention to be Sure Things’ Next Big Thing! Now let’s meet our judges!”
A camera swings around to face the judges’ table. Then the camera rolls closer and closer, coming right at me!
“Judge number one is the guy who gives Sure Things, Inc. its name. He’s the kid inventor who has taken the world by storm. He’s the heart and soul of Sure Things, Inc., a seventh-grader, and the president of the Fillmore Middle School Inventors Club. GIVE IT UP FOR BILLY SURE!”
The audience applauds loudly. Several “whoops” and “wows” cut through the clapping. I see Dad standing in the front row, clapping his hands over his head. Then I remember that I’m on TV, and that the camera is zoomed in on a close-up of my face. I wave weakly and force a smile.
“Judge number two is Billy’s partner in all things Sure Things. He’s the kid with the computer brain, the Mozart of marketing, the Beethoven of business, the Vivaldi of variables. Put your hands together for the chief financial officer of Sure Things, Inc., Manny Reyes!”
Ever the cool customer, Manny gives a small wave to the camera.
“Judge number three is also part of the Sure Things, Inc. family—quite literally, in fact. She’s a freshman at Fillmore High School, a straight-A science student, the originator of the Gross-to-Good Powder, and oh yeah, she’s Billy’s big sister. Give a great big welcome to Emily Sure!”
Emily smiles and waves at the camera, then at the audience with both hands. She’s absolutely loving being in the spotlight. Her ten rings catch the bright lights, reflecting colored lights in all directions.
“Judge number four was once in the same boat as the contestants on today’s program. She entered the previous Next Big Thing competition and won! She’s a math whiz, writes computer code faster than you can whip up a shopping list, and is the inventor of the Sibling Silencer. Let’s hear it for Abby Nielson!”
Abby smiles and waves at the crowd like she’s been doing this her whole life. Which makes me smile—FOR REAL.
“And finally, judge number five. He needs no introduction—but I’ll introduce him anyway.”
Now it’s Chris’s turn to crank his fake TV smile up to its brightest setting.
“You know him as a guest on my show. You also know him as the all-star shortstop for the Hyenas, the slick-fielding, hard-hitting Carl Bourette!”
Again the crowd bursts into cheers and applause.
“What you may not know, though, is that Carl and the Hyenas have agreed to endorse the winning invention. Carl will be the spokesman for the product, which will also have the Hyenas’ team logo on it. Way to go, Carl. You’ve just scored another home run in my book!”
A swell of dramatic music blares from the studio’s speakers.
“And now,” Chris begins in a super-serious voice. “The time has come to meet our first contestant. Here to show us his invention idea is Asher!”
A tall boy with curly blond hair walks out and steps onto the stage. He is carrying a paper bag in one hand and holding his other hand behind his back.
“Hi!” he begins, sounding very nervous. “Um, I am Asher.”
He sets his bag down on the floor, then pulls his hand out from behind his back. He’s holding a long wooden stick with a small wooden hand attached to the end.
“This is a regular, everyday backscratcher,” Asher explains. He then proceeds to reach behind his head with the stick and use the hand part to scratch way down in the middle of his back.
“Backscratchers are great, but what if you need something for other hard-to-reach places?”
Asher reaches into his bag and pulls out a short plastic stick with what looks like a finger on the end.
“This is my first invention, the AUTOMATIC NOSE PICKER,” Asher says. He sticks the plastic finger into his nose and presses a button, then pulls the finger out.
I don’t even want to describe what’s sitting on the end of the finger.
“My second invention is the AUTOMATIC EAR CLEANER,” Asher says, putting the nose picker down and reaching into his bag.
Out comes a short metal handle with a cotton swab on the end.
“It works like this.” Asher sticks the padded end up to his ear and flips a switch. The pad spins around and around, and then he pulls it out. Words can’t describe what Asher pulls out of his ear. Not only is it gross, the automatic ear cleaner is totally unsafe.
Asher finishes his pitch. “If my invention is picked, I would like Sure Things, Inc. to help me pull all this together into a combo backscratcher, nose picker, and ear cleaner. Thank you.”
I hear a lot of groans, a few claps, and perhaps even some gagging as Asher puts the various pieces of his invention—and his body—back into his bag and walks off the stage.
I jot down my scores in each of the categories, 5 being the best—originality 2, functionality 3, usefulness 1, marketability 1, ease of manufacturing 5.
“Thank you, Asher,” says Chris. “That was quite . . . unusual. Our next contestant joins us all the way from Italy. For you folks at home, she’ll be right there on your TV screen. For our studio audience and judges, please turn your attention to the back of the stage.”
A huge TV monitor, as big as a movie theater screen, drops down. The other four judges and I swivel our chairs around.
“Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Maria!”
The giant screen comes to life. And there stands a girl with shiny black hair.
“Hello, everybody around the world,” she begins. “I am Maria. I live in Italy, and I have an idea for a great invention.”
Maria stands beside a table with a small wooden box with tiny holes in it, a fly swatter, a spray can, and a big loose-leaf binder.
“Everyone knows that flying bugs are TERRIBLE PESTS,” Maria continues. “They bite you, they get in your food at picnics, and they are very annoying. But at the same time, some of us like to collect bugs.”
Maria grabs the loose-leaf binder and opens it. There, attached to the pages, are bugs—everything from beautiful butterflies to really gross giant mosquitoes.
“I enjoy collecting and studying bugs, but catching them can be hard.”
She picks up the fly swatter and then opens the wooden box. A bug flies out.
“Of course you can use a fly swatter.”
THWAPPP!
Maria swats the bug against the table, squashing it into a gooey mess.
“But that leaves the bug all squished and no good for your collection.”
My curiosity is piqued. I can’t wait to see where this is going.
“My invention is a nontoxic bug spray that freezes bugs in midair in perfect condition. That way you can simply take them out of the air and place them right into your collection book.”
Maria picks up the spray can. She releases another bug from the box, then sprays it. When the spray clears, the bug is floating in midair. Then the bug shatters into tiny pieces and crumbles to the floor.
“I would like help from Sure Things, Inc. to perfect the spray so it can help bug collectors all over the world. Thank you.”
The big screen goes dark and the audience applauds.
Emily leans over to me. “That’s the GROSSEST THING I ever saw,” she whispers.
“What about the booger and earwax kid?” Abby asks, leaning in from my other side.
Emily just shudders in response.
Hmm . . . this is a tougher one to score. As I ponder my scoring, Chris moves right on to the next contestant.
“Our next contestant is a student at Graham Middle School,” Chris begins.
Graham Middle School is in the town next to mine. There’s an intense rivalry between their teams and Fillmore’s.
“And he’s a big fan of KUNG FU MOVIES. Please welcome Terry!”
A short boy walks out onto the stage. He is dressed in a martial arts outfit complete with a beginner’s yellow belt. I notice bright orange sweatbands on his wrists and ankles. He brings his palms together at his chest and bows to the audience.
“Thank you. My name is Terry and I love all kinds of martial arts movies. Even though I have studied karate and kung fu, I still can’t come close to doing the stuff I see in the movies. That’s why I invented KUNG FU SWEATBANDS. With these on my wrists and ankles I can do all kinds of awesome moves, just like my favorite action stars. I have had a little trouble controlling the sweatbands, and that’s why I’d like help from Sure Things, Inc. I’ll demonstrate.”
Terry squeezes his left wristband. All four orange sweatbands start to glow. Then he begins a routine. He throws kicks and punches with amazing speed. He leaps into the air, spins three times, then lands in a split and pops back up to his feet.
But that’s when the sweatbands go berserk. Terry starts punching and kicking at amazing speed. His body is bucking everywhere. He CAN’T STOP!
“Help! I can’t shut these off!” Terry cries, desperately trying to grab his left wristband with his right hand.
Members of the TV crew come rushing out onto the stage. As they reach for Terry’s arms and legs, one gets karate chopped in the arm. Another gets kicked in the shoulder. Ouch!
The out-of-control sweatbands launch Terry into the air, feet first, heading right toward a TV camera. He lands a kick right on the camera’s lens, breaking it.
Terry finally manages to grab his left wrist and switches off the bands. He lands on his feet and bows to the audience again.
“Like I said, these need work. Thank you.” Then, sweating and breathing heavily, Terry leaves the stage.
This is a hard one to score. And it certainly would need a lot of work to get it ready for the marketplace. Not to mention trial runs I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be anywhere near. As I mark up my score sheet, a new TV camera is hooked up, ready to go. That’s the speed of showbiz!
