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Sunset On West Pico

Meanwhile, sometime last month in an office at Ten Thirteen Productions...

Vince: "What's that?"

Chris: "You'll see."

Vince: "Oh no, forget it!"

Chris: "What?"

Vince: "Do not put that on my desk, Chris! Do not put that on my desk!"

Chris: "What? You don't even know what it is!"

John: "What's going on?"

Vince: "Carter's trying to dump the finale on me!"

Chris: "Says who? You haven't even looked at this yet?"

Vince: "Get real, Chris! We all knew you'd try and pull this shit!"

Chris: "What?"

John: "Yeah, right, Mr Innocent! There's been a running bet since '96 that you'd try and weasel-out of scripting the finale!"

Chris: "That's just so untrue! I'm really hurt, you guys!"

Vince: "What, hurt because there was a bet, or hurt because we knew you'd try and do it?"

John: "It's all yours, Christopher!"

Chris: "Jesus, why the hell should I have to fucking do it? I always get the fucking dirty work! You guys could always consider shouldering a little more of the burden occasionally, you know?"

Vince: "Hey, you started this, you finish it!"

Frank: "Who's winning?"

John: "Winning what?"

Frank: "I don't know. Whatever this fight is about."

Chris: "Ah, there you are Frank, I have something for you."

Frank: "What?"

Chris: "A late Christmas present. Here."

Frank: "Get fucked! That's the finale outline, isn't it? You bastard! We knew you'd try this!"

Chris: "Jezuss, it is not!"

Vince: "Yes it is! You've already tacitly agreed that it is!"

John: "You're such a lying scumbag, sometimes!"

Chris: "Look! Does this look like an outline to you?"

Frank: "It's a blank piece of paper."

Chris: "That's right! My gift to you."

John: "You mean to tell us you don't even have an outline?"

Frank: "I thought Mulder was going to run off to Vermont and marry Krycek? Scully was going to give him away."

Vince: "Nah, didn't we agree that Pam was going to wake up and find Bobby in the shower?"

Rob: "Who was in your shower?"

Frank: "Bobby. And it was Pam's shower."

Rob: "You lost me."

Vince: "Chris has just told us that you get to write the finale."

Rob: "Fuck you! That's your job, Carter!"

Chris: "Christ, why is everybody saying that! Let's draw straws, or something!"

Frank: "Go draw your own damn straws! The finale is yours, and that's that!"

Kim: "Ooh, have you decided on the finale outline yet?"

Rob: "Yeah, and you get to write it up."

Kim: "What? How the fuck does that work? Why should I have to do it?"

Frank: "We took a vote, and you won."

John: "It was unanimous. No correspondence shall be entered into, and all that shit."

Vince: "Don't forget to say hello to the knife-wielding fans for us. Oh wait, you'll be dead..."

Kim: "But that's not fucking fair! I don't see how you can make me do it! I never even voted-!"

Vince: "Relax, Kim, we're just fucking with you. Chris is going to write it."

Chris: "I am not! One of you guys can do it! I'm tired of doing everything around here!"

Frank: "Nope, too late, your name is already as good as on the credits."

Kim: "Thank fuck for that! That wasn't funny. You guys really suck sometimes, you know that? So what's the outline?"

Frank: "He doesn't even have one!"

Kim: "What? You better get moving, man, you don't have much time!"

Chris: "The fuck with you, Manners, you do it!"

Kim: "Yeah, right! In your dreams! I'm not a masochist!"

Chris: "Listen, what's the big deal, here? How can you not want to do this? Whoever writes the final episode gets the last word on The X-Files! Almost ten years of ground-breaking TV history! Come on, doesn't the idea excite and inspire you? You'll be the last person with the opportunity to make and leave your mark on the show! Think how many people will tune in to watch it! It'll be one of the biggest events in television history! Nobody-"

Frank: "Oh, shut the fuck up, Carter! Who do you think you are, Zig Ziglar?"

Rob: "Who the fuck is Zig Ziglar?"

Vince: "You've never heard of Zig Ziglar?"

Rob: "No, Vince, I just like the way who the fuck is Zig Ziglar? sounds, and I say it whenever I get the opportunity!"

Kim: "Was he some sales guy?"

Frank: "Yeah, he sits next to Denise up in marketing."

Kim: "Oh, right, I know who you mean."

Rob: "Really? Is he that blonde guy with the ponytail? Always wears that stupid vest?"

Kim: "Yeah, that's him."

Rob: "God, I hate that guy! He smells like urinal cakes or something."

Frank: "You guys are such fucking idiots."

Chris: "Goddammit, hurry up and decide which one of you is going to do this!"

John: "Do what?"

Chris: "Write the fucking finale! Man, you must be the dumbest producers ever, and that's really fucking saying something!"

Rob: "Get fucked! I'd rather have leprosy!

Vince: "Nah, they can cure that now. I'd go for Ebola, myself."

Frank: "What would be worse: being boiled alive in vinegar or having to write the finale?"

John: "I like vinegar."

Chris: "Oh, for-! I thought you guys would be fighting for the honor of writing the final episode!"

Rob: "Well, you thought wrong, again!"

Vince: "Yup. Sure did!"

Frank: "Why don't we just dress up as Osama bin Laden and run around on the FBI's firing range? It'd be a shitload less painful."

Chris: "Come on, guys, even some outline ideas!"

Vince: "I still like the Pam and Bobby angle. We could have Mulder wake up and find that the last nine years were all a dream and that he's an exhaust reconditioner in Albuquerque. Scully can be the waitress down at the diner where he has lunch."

John: "Yeah! Skinner can be the homeless guy that lives in a dumpster in the alley! We can put him in an afro wig!"

Chris: "What about some sensible suggestions?"

Kim: "Nope, you got me there."

Chris: "Alright, so, why don't we all sit down and write-up some ideas, and-?"

Frank: "Not a chance, Carter!"

Rob: "Yeah, you're on your own, buddy!"

Chris: "Fuck you all, then!"

[He stomps off to his office and slams the door]

Vince: "Man, that was easier than I thought it would be!"

Frank: "Yeah! I was expecting him to put up a better fight than that!"

John: "He must be losing his edge."

[In his office, Chris dials a number]

Darin: "Hello?"

Chris: "Hey, Darin, old buddy, how's it going?"

Darin: "Forget it, Carter...!"

[Click]

Chris: "Hello?"

[Out in the hallway, the others duck for cover as a telephone smashes through the partition and embeds itself in a wall near their heads...]

Copyright Shturmovik[KGB]

2002

duane_barry@altavista.net