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“He’s like a God amongst us! Straight down from Mount Olympus!” Howling Mad Murdock’s faux English accent, over-enunciated words, and over-the-top inflection made him sound like a cheesy B-Movie narrator.
“His form is nothing less than a work of art! His body, a well-oiled machine.”
“Hannibal, I think Murdock is in love…” Face observed, from the back seat of the A-Team van. Hannibal Smith nodded in agreement, as he chomped on his cigar through a wide grin.
“Yes, a Handy-Man from Heaven…! A Titan with a Toolbox! An Adonis in Dungarees…! He can fix anything, this side of heaven!”
“What are you talking about, crazy man!?” B.A. Baracus grumbled. He was annoyed with Murdock’s jibber jabber, but also a bit flattered. “I’m about to fix you, if you don’t shut up!”
“He’s the man who can Make It Right.”
“Who you talking about, Murdock?!”
“Mike Holmes. From Holmes on Homes.”
“Hannibal!” B.A. pleaded, and demanded.
“Mike Holmes?” Face chimed in. “You know, that show on HGTV?”
“You know I don’t watch no HGTV, Face!”
“You should, B.A.” Face replied. “They have some really great shows... ”
“I think B.A. prefers TLC.” This time, Murdock used his normal voice (so to speak). “I am sure he doesn’t miss an episode of What Not To Wear.”
“You’re gonna be wearing my fist if you don’t shut up, crazy man!”
“It seems B.A. prefers Toddlers With Tiaras.” Hannibal’s reply was deadpan.
“Well, I just can’t believe you don’t know Mike Holmes, B.A! He’s a big, strapping man. Close cut on top. A little bling in his ear... And his biceps could crush cans of beer… or even bottles.” With that thought, Murdock reached into the front seat, and gently squeezed B.A.’s biceps, trying to compare.
B.A. swatted him away, trying to keep his eyes on the road.
Now in a low infomercial voice, Murdock carried on. “You know, B.A. Chicks love the pipes. Maybe you should work out…”
“Shut up, you mudsucka! I don’t wanna hear no more about this guy.”
“Sergeant, pull off, ahead. Into that parking lot.” Hannibal gave the order, and B.A. complied, although he was a bit suspicious.
“Why are we stopping here, Hannibal?” Baracus asked, as he turned off the engine.
“No reason.”
“There’s always a reason. Wait. Where’s the airport?” B.A. began to look around, in his side view mirrors.
“B.A., we are miles away from the airport.”
B.A. rolled down the window, to listen for the sound of an airplane flying overhead. That’s usually what would happen at a time like this.
“I told you, I ain’t getting on no plane!”
“B.A. Why do you always think that we’re going to put you on a plane? Face, are we going anywhere?”
“No, Hannibal. In fact, I know for certain that we will be spending at least the next few hours right here.”
“What’s going on?” B.A. grumbled. He was about ready to show the A-Team why his nickname was short for Bad Ass (or Bad Attitude in primetime). As if they didn’t already know.
“B.A., we’re not going anywhere,” Hannibal reassured him, getting out of the passenger side of the van. “In fact, we have arranged for a special treat. You, B.A., are going to be a star!” Hannibal raised his hands in an arc above his head dramatically, to emphasize the point.
B.A. jumped out of the driver’s side, and approached his Commanding Officer.
“B.A., we’ve arranged for a special treat. Some television crews are going to come by and feature you, and your van, on their show.”
Face worked his way back into the conversation. “Um, Hannibal, do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean, wouldn’t the Military Police recognize us on the air?” He had to make it sound convincing.
“That’s right. I don’t want to be on no TV show!”
“Look!” Hannibal said, ignoring his men. “They’re here now.”
A large HGTV tractor trailer pulled into the parking lot, followed by several other vehicles. Mike climbed out of a suburban, followed by a camera crew.
“He’s here! He’s really here!” Murdock exclaimed, this time in the voice of an excited school girl. He rushed up to Mike, and smiled giddily.
Hannibal and Face approached too. Mike, with a confused smile, extended his hand out to them as a greeting. They shook.
“Smith… Peck… nice to see you again.”
Hannibal put his left arm around Mike’s shoulder, and led him towards B.A.’s black van. His right hand held his cigar, and he waved it as he spoke.
“This is the van you’d be working with.”
“Wait a minute! Nobody touches my ride!” B.A., said defensively.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” Face began, sounding like a used car dealer. Hannibal and Face brought Mike to see the big, black, vehicle close up.
“Yeah. She is! Nice. Solid. No rust. Looking good.” Mike made his way around the van, until he got to the front. Mike stood in front of the van, bare arms crossed, as he sized the vehicle up and down.
B.A. made his way to the front of the van, too, and then got between it and Mike. He stood – feet apart and arms folded across his chest - as if initiating a Mexican Showdown.
“Well, I’m sorry. We don’t usually do vehicles on our show.” Holmes commented. “I thought you knew I was a home contractor.”
“That’s ok,” Murdock said, and then broke into a TV voiceover. “We had suspected that B.A. was living in his van for quite a while. He’s been sleeping in the back, next to a soldering gun and an ammo box. Can you believe that?” With a childlike grin, he then invited Mike to punch a hole in the the side of the van.
Mike looked past B.A., and over his shoulder, and then commented “Bullet holes?”
B.A. grumbled.
Hannibal, ignoring both Mike and B.A., opened the sliding side door of the van, and pulled out a canvas bag. Then, he began distributing half-face respirators with HEPA filters to his men, and one for Mike. Face, Murdock, and Hannibal put them on, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do. Mike looked at the whole team as if everyone was insane.
“Health and safety regulations.” Face shrugged, with a small laugh.
B.A. hesitated for a moment, but then growled and put his on, too. Within a few seconds, he began to sway in place.
“And three...” Face began the countdown, as he and Murdock rushed to B.A.’s side. Hannibal checked his watch.
“Two… and one!”
By that point, B.A. had collapsed into Face and Murdock’s arms. The two struggled, and then carried him into the back of the van where Hannibal was waiting, with the back door open. They shoved B.A. into the back of the van, then closed the door.
Mike Holmes was confused, but made sure that his cameramen were still filming.
“We’re sorry, Mike,” Hannibal offered, as they made their way back to the film crew. “But I can assure you, you wouldn’t want him to be awake to hear this.”
“I don’t understand. Is there a problem with the van? Maybe you wanted Pimp My Ride?”
“Not exactly.” Hannibal said, with a big grin on his face. “We want you to replace B.A.”
“Replace him?”
“Yeah, the big guy just is no fun anymore,” Murdock agreed. “There’s only so many times you can get called a fool or a mudsucka without it getting old.”
“And don’t forget the flying!” Faceman pointed out. “You have no idea how hard it’s been getting, trying to come up with schemes to knock him out every week.”
“I thought the HEPA filters were good,” Hannibal noted, happy with himself.
“They were brilliant, Colonel.” Murdock agreed.
Hannibal chomped on his cigar, again, and mumbled through the butt. “Mike, we’re looking for a new face…”
“What?” Face asked, surprised.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant… We’re looking for a new face of the A-Team. We want someone strong, yet friendly and approachable."
"Tough, yet friendly," Face jumped in. "Someone who doesn’t put up with any Bull, and gets things done.”
Hannibal continued. "A sense of justice, AND a sense of style."
“And someone with really good … pipes,” Murdock added, over-enunciating the last word. He was pleased with his bad pun. He reached out to feel Mike’s muscular biceps.
Face gently moved Murdock away from Mike’s arms. “It’s a good job. No one gets killed.”
Mike thought about it for a moment, and then asked. “Syndication?”
“Oh, trust me. The hours are great.” Face confirmed, in his used car salesman voice.
“And, just to be sure… I get to drive the van?”
“You can even use the planes,” Murdock said, with a wild look in his eye, as he wondered if anyone got this pun, too.
“Can I keep my day job?”
“You’ll have to,” Hannibal said, still smiling.
“Well, in that case…” Mike held out his hand, and shook on it.
Hannibal pulled his cigar butt out of his mouth, and grinned widely. It was, of course, time for him to say it.
“I love it when a plan comes together.”
