Today we learned that even though the economy is improving, Debra's financial situation is tanking. Knowing what happens when she comes off her meds that she can no longer afford, she decided to take on a part-time job rather than slipping back into psychosis and doing God only knows what.
She read that recently a gay homosexual cameraman was fired from the 19 kids and counting show and they were looking to fill the position. Little Debbie decided to go for it. The skills she learned from a long-ago career in silent film pornography might finally come in handy.
Wanting to get right on it, Debra swooped by the local truck stop before heading home from the Scientology Clear Center, to grab a sausage dog, a bunch of other snacks and a 64 oz fountain coke with triple cherry syrup. She hurried home where she pulled up her comfy barco-lounger to her faithful Tandy-Radio Shack computer.
She surrounded herself with all the goodies, a box of wet wipes and a bedpan for... the obvious, because she did not want to be distracted. She scoured the web to update her skills in filmography and to learn all she could about the Duggar family. Many, many hours later (and a side-trip to a Pat Robertson erotic fan fiction porn site), Debra felt she was ready.
At the studio's office, she waited patiently after handing over her resume to the secretary. She was going to ace this interview if it killed her. "Debra Wilkerson," she heard from the back room.
A bit nervous, but ready to face the fire, Debra walked into the room with all the confidence that Jesus (and recently Xenu) could give her. Before she could even sit down, she heard the man say, "You're hired." Chalking her oddly quick employment up to the power of Xenus or Jenu or whoever in the hell she was into this week, she didn't ask questions. She didn't know that they just wanted to fill the position with a minority figure.
Her first day on the job was easy going. She was trained on the equipment and on the policies that the Duggar family and the producers put in place to keep things running smoothly. "Debbie, why don't you take lunch. Come back in an hour."
Debra took the opportunity to sneak about the compound a bit while the family was together in the Old Testament bible study room. She heard bits and pieces of the prayers as she passed by.
"Our father in heaven, we pray for forgiveness for our son's vegetable finger rings. Rid us of this shame. Smite those that come against us as we smite our son for coming against the girls (and on them (allegedly))."
Debbie wondered out loud as she walked away why they were praying for vegetable finger rings. "Honey, I don't think that's what they said," a fellow crew member whispered to her as he pointed a wiggling finger down to Debra's spicy wonderland betwixt her thighs. "Let's just say you don't want to let them lay a FINGER on ya."
Looking quite confused, Debbie walked on whispering under her breath, "Vegetable finger rings. Vegetable finger rings. Hmm. Vegetable fingering." Coming to a realization of what she overheard, she reflexively yelled out, "VAGINAL FINGERING!" Thank goodness she was far enough away for the family to not hear (except one), but a couple of crew members snickered at her.
As the full situation synapsed it's way through her cerebral cortex, she reacted in true Debra fashion. She snapped into a PTSD-triggered psychosis from her childhood abuse. As she collapsed to the floor, she eyed Josh headed toward her snapping on a latex glove and giving her a hungry expression. As she slipped into nightmare-infused unconsciousness, she heard the nimble-fingered Duggar boy whisper in her ear, "Don't worry new girl. I know just where the snickers go."