RIP Johnny Sandwiches, aka Johnny Keyser! Could you believe that brutality last night? They didn't even give that chisel-cheeked mothereffer the respect of showing him get eliminated. They just included him in a clump montage of "Oh and these jackanapes went home too." They just threw his corpse in there with the rest and Randy bulldozered over the shallow pit and that was that. Just one of many, sure, but he was our Girl In the Red Coat, the one who made it all mean something. But seriously, can you believe they eliminated him?? I had him going to the end! My bracket is all f-cked up right now! Everything's in a tailspin. I really, and I mean this absolutely sincerely, could not believe he was so unceremoniously voted off last night. I had to confirm with my friend that it had indeed happened like four times. Just couldn't believe it. I almost wonder if they found out that he'd been molesting dogs or something. Like some dark criminal past came burbling to the surface so they just quietly ushered him out. It had to be something, right? It had to be. What a curveball, huh?? What an Idol!
So, phew, yeah, that happened. RIP Sandwiches. RIP forever. Big deal, guys. Big deal. Well, a big deal for now. By this time next week we'll have our semifinalists and then we'll start voting and then and then and then. On and on until May. And Johnny Sandwiches won't be there. And Tent in the Woods won't be there. And The Cop and the Fratboy and poor tragic Travis Orlando. None of them will be there. All merely long lost ghosts by that point. All departed souls swirling in the ether above us, haunting the night sky, moaning eternal moans, wailing "Can I have one more chance?"
After the Vegas eliminations, after everyone had received the good or terrible news, Ryan was out back in an alleyway, trying to make a phone call, when a tear-stained Johnny Sandwiches appeared out of nowhere. "H-Hey," Ryan stammered, putting his phone away. "I thought Glen and everyone in security had you guys, uh, the eliminees, on a bus already." Johnny looked hard and angry, he looked fraught and desperate, he looked a lot of things. "They are on a bus. I'm just not on it." Ryan backed up a step. "Oh. OK. Well. Uh. What, uh, what can I do for you Johnny?" Johnny approached, quickly. He grabbed the lapels of Ryan's jacket and pulled him in close. "Please, Mr. Seacrest," he whimpered. "Please. Please give me one more chance. Please, I'll do anything." Johnny, once so cocky, so arrogant, now sounding so scared and lost. "Please, Mr. Seacrest. Really, I'll do anything..." And then he was reaching for Ryan's belt buckle, trying to undo it, fiddling with Ryan's fly, his fingers groping and searching, and Ryan felt frightened. "No! Nope!" he yelped, trying to push Johnny off, trying to pull his hand away. "No, I- Johnny, really, I- No, Johnny, come on now, there's nothing I can do!" Johnny didn't stop, kept whispering, hot on Ryan's cheek, "Please Mr. Seacrest, please. Please just give me one more chance." He wouldn't stop saying it, over and over and over again until — Until he stopped. His hand fell slack from Ryan's belt buckle. His eyes looked into Ryan's and Ryan could see what looked like a candle flickering out. "Mr. Seacrest?" Johnny asked in a small voice. And blood came burbling out of his mouth as he said it, and suddenly he was collapsing onto Ryan, Ryan had to back away lest Johnny knock him over, and then there Johnny was, lying face down on the pavement, dead. Johnny was dead. Johnny was dead with a harsh red wound in his back. And above him, oh god above him stood Colton, holding a bloody shard of broken mirror. "C-C-Colton?" Ryan stuttered. "What did you do?" Colton looked at Ryan calmly, a strange hum of energy about him. "He was going to hurt you. So, I saved you. I saved you, Ryan. That's what I did. I saved you." Ryan looked down at Johnny, a pool of thick blood now spreading out around him. "I saved you," Colton said. Suddenly the sun dipped behind the brown dirt mountains and Las Vegas was cold. Ryan shivered. "I saved you, Ryan," Colton said again. "And now you owe me." Ryan looked up, looked at Colton standing there, still clutching the bloody shard of mirror, Ryan not sure if it was just Johnny's blood at this point or maybe some of Colton's too. Ryan knew there was only one response. "OK," he said quietly. "OK. Yes. Yes, I owe you. You're right. You saved me. He- He was attacking me. Thank you. Thank you." And he didn't stop saying "thank you," in a rote and quiet way, for a long time. Not while they carried Johnny's limp body to a dumpster, not when they hurled it in, not when they walked back through the parking lot, not when Colton hugged him strangely before they got on their separate buses home to LA. "Thank you," Ryan whispered, shocked, stunned, stuck. And Colton grabbed Ryan firm on the shoulders, looked in his eyes and said, scarier than anything else, "No. Thank you." And then they went home.
This article is from the archive of our partner The Wire.