Just a lightning strike in my life. Ed silently repeated those seven words to himself so many times that he feared they'd accidentally spill out of his mouth and the producers and sound engineers who scurried around him would think he was genuinely crazy. His mom had struck up a conversation with one of the interns about Shonda Rhimes, and was therefore oblivious to Ed's now probably-very-obvious stage fright. Ed cracked all the knuckles of his left hand and pictured thunderstorms and cooling spring rain.

"She's a real boss," Ed's mom gushed, "I'd love to meet her."

"Oh totally," the intern agreed. "I saw the back of her head once."

"Is it just as impressive as I imagine it to be?" Ed's mom asked.

"Girl, you don't even know," the intern patted Ed's mom's arm.

Ed began to crack the knuckles of his right hand.

"Ed!" Ed's mom crinkled her nose, "Quit that!"

"Hmmm?" Ed blinked.

"Don't be gross," Ed's mom said, "You wouldn't be the Internet's boyfriend if girls saw you doing that."

"Doing what?" Ed looked down at his hands.

"We just started playing the introduction video," a producer ducked his head into Ed's dressing room, "Ellen needs Ed on deck right now."

"On deck?" Ed repeated.

"Backstage," the intern directed Ed out into the hallway.

"Right," Ed mentally tried to check the function of his spleen. So far, he felt nothing unusual. Was this a good sign?

A sound technician tested the microphone clipped on Ed's shirt.

"Don't be nervous kid," she glanced at Ed's face, "she's great."

***

Ed could see Ellen's yellow head from backstage. A giant television screen behind her flashed several of the tweets people had written about him. One of the show's reporters made a joke about the paltry work ethic of teenagers in the video's voice over. And then-

"From Linden Valley, Pennsylvania," Ellen shouted, "Enchilada Ed!"

A member of the stage crew gave Ed a slight push on the small of his back. Ed obediently walked out in front of the cameras. He quickly became aware of the howling applause all around him. Oh shit, he thought, there's actually an audience.

Ellen stood up and gave him a warm hug.

Of course there's an audience, you lunkhead, Ed smiled at Ellen, it's the Ellen DeGeneres Show, what did you expect?

Ellen took his hand and wordlessly directed him to face the audience. Ed's eyes fell onto a blonde girl with boxy glasses, who squealed with such intensity her cheeks turned purplish.

"Okay, okay," Ellen said, easily reclining into her white plush chair.

Ed quickly sat down.

"Okay," Ellen repeated, and the audience fell silent.

"How old are you, Ed?" Ellen asked.

"Seventeen," Ed said.

"Seventeen, and how long have you worked at that, uh, it's a Mexican restaurant?" Ellen fidgeted in her seat.

"El Gringo's, it's on West Fourth-" Ed blurted out before he realized no one in the studio knew where West Fourth Street actually was. The audience laughed. Ed wasn't sure what he had said that was so funny, "And I've been there since the beginning of April."

"So, not that long. How do you feel about the costume?" Ellen paused, "the chili pepper costume-" she elaborated, waving her hands over her torso.

"Uh, not great," Ed said.

Ellen chortled. Did I just make Ellen laugh? Ed ran his fingers through his hair, I think I did just make Ellen laugh.

"A lot of kids your age wouldn't put up with a mascot costume, let alone that mascot costume, but you handled it very well," Ellen complimented him.

"I needed the money," Ed caught himself, "Not needed, but-"

"You were saving up for something." Ellen said.

"Prom tickets and stuff," Ed answered.

"That didn't go too well for you, though," Ellen's blue eyes widened with playful sympathy.

"No," Ed laughed, "I wouldn't have bothered with the job in the first place, if I knew I'd get turned down." Oh God, he thought, why did I bring up the prom rejection? Dad's gonna be pissed.

"Turned down twice," Ellen added, "but now, you're getting prom-proposals, is that right? Girls prom-posing to you?"

"I mean, yeah," Ed stammered, "A lot on Twitter, for the most part."

"You have about four hundred thousand followers on Twitter now," Ellen added, "and even more on Instagram and Snapchat right?"

"Do I? I haven't really checked."

Ellen chortled again.

"Well, we've checked," she looked to one of her producers off camera, "I think the numbers are six hundred and thirteen thousand on Instagram-"

"Jesus," Ed muttered impulsively.

Ellen cracked up. Ed felt suddenly very proud of himself.

"So do you feel obligated," Ellen composed herself, "Do you feel obligated to start posting selfies?"

"I'm not even good at taking selfies," Ed bugged his eyes, "but, like, the people want what the people want."

The audience applauded this sentiment.

"You've been offered modeling contracts-" Ellen lit up with spontaneity, "Do you have your phone with you?" she asked, "we should take a selfie for your Instagram."

"Sure," Ed pulled his iPhone out of his pocket.

Ellen beckoned him to sit on an arm of her chair. She took his iPhone and snapped a photo of the two of them. Ed felt very strange being so close to a mega-celebrity. He could smell Ellen's citrusy shampoo.

"Okay, okay," Ellen quieted the cheering audience as Ed returned to his chair.

"So your mom says you took the job at El Gringo's because you like Mexican food," Ellen began. "Do you like Bueno Burrito's grocery store line of Mexican food products?"

"Sure," Ed said. He had never tried Bueno Burrito's grocery store line of Mexican food products. They violated his dad's prohibition on calorie-laden food, and his mom hated what she called frozen food's 'changed consistency.'

"Well, our friends at Bueno Burrito would like to gift you with a lifetime supply of their frozen enchiladas," Ellen pulled out a certificate for Bueno Burrito from behind her chair and handed it to Ed.

"Really?" Ed grinned at the certificate. These could be terrible, for all you know, he told himself, but it's the thought that counts, the thought.

"Yep, and we here at the show have another gift for you," Ellen gestured to side stage, where a crew member rolled in two mannequins. One was dressed in a tux, the other a gown. Both were the same shade of bright red as the Carlos costume. Both came with shoes the same bright green as the tights and stem-shaped hat. The audience whooped with glee.

"Since you looked so good in chili-pepper red, we thought we'd carry the color over to prom night," Ellen explained, "and I got a feeling you won't be dateless for too much longer, so we made sure the lucky lady will have something to wear too. What do you think?"

"Wow," Ed said, not quite understanding what was going on. Why was he getting a prom dress? For a girl? Would he be expected to get a prom date now? Who would he even take?

"Enchilada Ed everybody!" Ellen shouted to the cackling audience.

***

Ed uploaded his selfie with Ellen to Instagram. It became the most popular of his posts, at 130k likes.

***