Our characters, along with a handful of identical, but differently clothed, other men sit around a large conference table. The one wearing a robe stands slowly, clears his throat, and begins.
PastorScott: Ahem, excuse me. Everybody...eyes up here. Don't make me start working on Sunday's sermon. This is the first time I've led one of these meetings, so let's see...
LethargicScott: Oh, come on...I should be leading this thing. I've been at every last one of these. Even the '95 transition. Heck, I co-chaired that meeting.
PostmodernScott: Yeah...they asked me, but I didn't feel like it.
LethargicScott: Hey, where is CollegeScott, anyway?
PostmodernScott: He spends all of his time on Facebook now. He's...
PastorScott: Excuse me, fellas...got a little meeting here. Now, because it is Monday morning, I'm in charge. HusbandScott will be along shortly to co-chair...but that doesn't mean we can't start. Now...it's been a little over two years since we met.
LethargicScott: Yeah...when you came on board. Hostile takeover if you ask me. Between you and "The Tool Man" over here...
HomeOwnerScott: ...uh...
LethargicScott: ...you two are really cramping my style. When HusbandScott came along back in '02, I could roll with that. Had to pick up my socks and vacuum and stuff, but it wasn't too bad. But this new stuff? You guys are absolutely killing me.
PastorScott: Which leads me to our reason for meeting. There's a new guy coming...and he's not messing around. And so...hate to say it...one of us has to die.
Excited, nervous banter....eyes shifting around the room.
PostmodernScott: Now, wait. We thought this was going to happen back in '02, but the only guy who got...ahem..."laid off" was SingleScott.
LethargicScott sniffles and reaches for a handkerchief...sorry, his sleeve.
PastorScott: This is even bigger than '02...bigger than '03...even bigger than '06.
Stunned silence as the assembly makes mental lists.
LethargicScott: We're all thinking it. We all know the answer, here. It's him.
LethargicScott points to a huddled mass in the corner.
HomeOwnerScott: BloggerScott? He died months ago...around stewardship season. I checked the pulse. Long gone.
LethargicScott: No, not him. Next to him.
Points to another eviscerated figure nearby who is wheezing and obviously struggling to find the will to live.
HomeOwnerScott: I like that idea...he's dying anyway.
PastorScott: I don't know...a couple of my books say...
LethargicScott: Oh, come on. Think about it. Do the suit slacks still fit?
Pastor Scott: In the morning...if I suck in.
LethargicScott: Check. Any reunions coming up?
PastorScott: Not that I know of...
Lethargic Scott: Check. Still convincing yourself that the scale is broken?
SkepticScott: Check.
LethargicScott: Well, there we go...the chump dies.
All eyes turn to StayInShapeScott, cowering in the corner. He points at LethargicScott, opens his mouth, gathers his strength and musters four words.
StayInShapeScott: ...you stole my IPod...
LethargicScott: That's it. He dies.
PostmodernScott: Works for me.
PastorScott: All right, let's move to a vote.
Door swings open dramatically.
HusbandScott: Hold it, hold it. Not so fast. As the chair of the transition team, I thought we should hear from the incoming administration. Friends, here he is...
A man carrying a diaper bag, a pack-n-play, and a folder titled "Saving for college" strides confidently into the room.
LethargicScott: I knew this day would come.
FatherScott: Hello all. First order of business? Points to the corner. He lives. HusbandScott and I have agreed that it's best.
PostmodernScott: Well, somebody's got to go.
HomeOwnerScott: Not me. Scott's father keeps giving me the paddles ever four months. He just won't let me die. Just try and kill me...I dare you.
FatherScott: Now, now...let's talk. I don't think any of us have to die. We just need to make some cutbacks...all of us.
LethargicScott: I heard this same garbage back when HusbandScott came a few years ago. Every time a new guy comes, a little more of me dies. I used to eat Burger King once a week! Once a week, people! Nobody's given more than me!!!!
FatherScott: Oh, shut up. Everybody knows you had the most to give. You're still twice as powerful as nearly everybody in the room.
HomeOwnerScott: You kick my tail on a daily basis...and you beat him within an inch of his life every Christmas.
StayInShapeScott moans from the corner.
FatherScott: He's right. But that's not the point. We all have to make sacrifices. All of us. Even them.
FatherScott points a finger down to the end of the room where several older, mostly disinterested members sit. A gasp comes from the room.
PostmodernScott: Not them. We all like them. Check that, love them. They never hurt anybody...just leave them alone.
FatherScott: Nope. We all have to chip in. Hey! Wake up!
MovieScott, watching Goldfinger on his laptop, turns to the group.
MovieScott: Were you talking to me? You know you're not doing anything to me.
FatherScott: Remember, a couple of months ago, when you saw the trailer to "Space Chimps" and said you would (and I quote): "Swallow a quart of Mr. Clean before you went to that movie?"
MovieScott: Yeah?
FatherScott: Remember when you forced your dad to go to "Oliver and Company?"
MovieScott: Oh crap.
FatherScott: And you...
LethargicScott: Leave him alone!!! He's like a father to me!
PastorScott: Yeah...I need him. Badly.
FatherScott: No exceptions. WAKE UP!
A man dressed in pajama pants and holding a remote control slowly rises from the couch in the corner.
SundayAfternoonNapScott: Wha? Guys, I was sleeping.
FatherScott: We're going to need you to be flexible for a while.
SundayAfternoonNapScott: You can't touch me. I have tenure.
FatherScott: None of us are stupid enough to think that you're going anywhere...we all know your family a little too well to be that naive. But, that said, we're all chipping in.
SundayAfternoonNapScott: This really seems a bit harsh.
LethargicScott: You're tellin' me.
Whole room begins to buzz with hostility and defensiveness...fingers are pointed at FatherScott.
FatherScott: Oh...I'm sorry...I nearly forgot. Here.
FatherScott produces two pictures; one of his pregnant wife, the other the ultrasound of his son. The room falls silent.
PastorScott (smiling): O.K...let's get to work. I think it's time somebody else organized the CROP Walk anyway...
HomeOwnerScott: Got the painting done already.
StayInShapeScott: Haven't shot hoops in a while...anybody got a ball?
MovieScott: As long as Barney isn't involved, I'll be OK.
FatherScott slowly and quietly leaves the room...leaving the pictures behind. He slowly shuts the door behind him.
FatherScott: See you in May. Buckle up.
END
