The host strode onstage and forced a laugh. "That Miss. Arkansas, bringing the fire!" he said. "Do remember ladies, there's kids at home watching. We want to be good role models, don't we, girls?" No response from backstage. In the front row, the intern guffawed.

The host cleared his throat and addressed the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard the first round of beautiful stories from our beautiful ladies. What do you say, folks? Which of these stories do you want to see immortalized as true American folktales? Remember, everyone gets three votes each. The top three winners of each round will go on to compete in tomorrow's swimsuit competition."

As the curtain closed and the auditorium's lights turned back on, the oldest producer pulled out his phone. "How is it going? What are people saying?" he asked the intern.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

She pulled up X. "Well, the top comment on our voting livestream is urging people to vote for Miss. Idaho because "brothers, now is our chance. Our chance to see those milkers popping out a bikini top." The second top comment is "shoulda guessed the Chinese chick would be a commie."

"Hawaii's story was communist?" the middle producer asked, wrinkling her brow in concern.

"Emily's talent portion was singing a Cambodian folksong from her grandparent's village," the intern sighed. "Anyway, the third comment is "the libs are at it again (throwing up emoji)." Do you want me to continue?"

The youngest producer waved her off. "How many comments does the livestream have?"

"Uh...2192."

"And how many views?"

"27k?"

"Oh my gosh." The youngest producer pulled out her own phone. "Guys, it's working!" It's working! We're actually getting traction. Oh my gosh." She composed herself. "Valentina send Ted the sign to start the voting. And tell the girls to keep things a little more...enjoyable." She clapped her hands together and squeezed. "We might pull this off after all."