"It would have been nice to have one of the main stars here, or at least more than just one guy," sighed Alexa.

Perhaps, but the majority of the audience didn't seem to give a damn about the lack of star power at the convention. When Trebor - a short, pudgy anomaly on a television program noted for its hard-bodied men and women - took the stage, the auditorium exploded with camera flashes and shrieks of approval.

"Thank you so much - wow! It is so great to be here," Trebor lied.

At least I think he was lying. He had to be lying, I reasoned, because I couldn't imagine that any Hollywood actor would enjoy being in such close quarters with the hundreds of starry-eyed genetic malformations who turned out for the occasion.

"Maybe we should leave. I think it's only a matter a time before the collective mood here turns ugly," I whispered to Bottomfeeder.

"Shhhh!!!" he shushed. "I'm trying to hear Salmoneus."

Damn straight he was. I hadn't seen Bottomfeeder so rapt since the last "Cops" marathon aired on Fox. He was among kindred spirits at the Xena convention; surrounded by people who, like him, actually care whether the nitwit couples on "Change of Heart" stay together.

"How do you think I'd look in leather body armor?" Bottomfeeder asked.

I shrugged nervously, then scribbed a note on my pad: "Need to move this man out my home as soon as possible!