Wookieetoots

[Somewhere in America. One of the nice states. With well-paved roads and sensible drivers. And where the accents are respectable and not ridiculous.]

[..........so not Massachusetts.]

[A limo pulls up to a very nice building. 2 people exit wearing suits and sunglasses. They look flashy and impressive, like they belong on some glitzy over-rated network TV show with risque scripts and striking camera angles. But it's Quantum Piett, so you'll get none of that nonsense and instead just get a bunch of bullshit.]

Piett: The self-deprecation never ceases to amaze me.
Herve: You have a greater appreciation for what we do than I. Much greater. [looks up] Well, we're here and I hafta say the old dump--WHA?!?!

[Herve points at the building, and Piett looks up while removes his glasses. The large letters - spelling WOOKIEEFARTS - that adorn the lobby corner the building from top to bottom are being removed from the lower floors upward.]

Herve: What does this mean?!?
Piett: Uh, maybe nothing? Or maybe it's just a cosmetic design, or someone needs the big letters more urgently than these people do.
Herve: No, I don't think so. Something's definitely happening here, and it's woefully awful.
Piett: You're just a vessel for the impending plot development. We're gonna walk in there and, naturally, something will be greatly amiss, and we'll cope with it like we always manage to.
Herve: Jebus, you're a heaping mass of depressing today.
Piett: You know why we're here. I'm just here to get it over with, and I'd advise you to just get me through it without much drama.

[Herve and Piett walk from the limo and head into the lobby. Indeed, all around them there is much activity. Movers are walking to and fro, leaving the building with pieces of office furniture and storage boxes, designers are examining schematics and mechanical drawings, and construction workers are alternating between being hard at work and amassing in large groups standing around, doing nothing, but trying to look like they are. Herve and Piett walk to reception, where Herve prepares to hit on the receptionist; when suddenly--]

Amber: Hello, and welcome to Wooki--oh shit, it's you two.
Herve: BUH?!?!?
Amber: Well, this surprise is ruined right off the bat. He's a little too good at that. What *was* he thinking having me sit out here to.....[slaps head].....duh, Amber, receptionist is your eternal damnation!
Herve: Have you ever said this much at once?
Amber: I don't think so. [pause] Hey, some good did come out of this after all.
Herve: Hang on, we've gotta get back into shocked mode, for melodrama's sake and because I'm sure you-know-who is watching this right now. [gets himself all flustered] But wait!! If you're here, then that must mean.... [turns to Piett, who is texting on his phone]
Piett: Just go on without me. I told you I'm not in the melodramatic mood.
Herve [without a pause]: Why, that would mean.......no, no he didn't! They didn't!!Voice: He did!

[Piett and Herve turn around as the new owner of Wookieefarts Inc. steps out of the elevator, which had apparently been held open for some time judging by the perturbed and bothered looks on everyone's faces inside.]

The Boss: Yes, indeed, I......[turns and looks back at the elevator full of people]......don't look at me all "perturbed and bothered."

[Before any of them can speak, he flicks his wrist and the elevator plummets. Bloodcurdling screams quickly fade.]

The Boss: Pricks.
Herve [still melodramatic]: But we're on the ground floor, how on Earth could.....OH!!!!!!
The Boss: What up, former in-law and his sexual deviant comrade?!
Piett: Talk to him, I am so not in the mood.
The Boss: He's in a mood?
Herve: Considering what we're here to do, yes.
The Boss: Oh yeah. That. Well, it happens. [chuckles] A lot.
Herve: So you bought out Wookieefarts? And you're closing it down?
The Boss: Of course. Evil businessman, remember?
Herve: I never remember the businessman aspect of your gimmick, but if you say so...
The Boss: Um, my name is "The Boss." That infers a negative point of view of business in my core characterization. Now let's get this.....unpleasantness [chuckles].....over with, and perhaps back to a sense of normalcy.

[Piett bursts out laughing. He stops himself and all stand awkward for a moment.]
Piett: That felt good.
Herve: You made him feel good. Must eat at your soul when.....oh wait.
The Boss: S'all good. [pause] Wow, this dialogue is very out of place considering who I am.

[They enter the elevator and it closes, moving upwards at a quick pace.]

Piett: Do we wanna know where Walsh is? Did you kill him?
The Boss: He's fine. He finally realized this all was a job he could do from home, hence his ultimate ability to give this business place up.
Herve: I don't actually know what Wookieefarts did, exactly?
The Boss: Walsh didn't either. It seemed clever at the time to have a spiffy office building to house the creativity, but in the last few years it was a combination of awful economic times, a dreary real estate environment, a sudden realization that fan fiction doesn't have any corporate financing to it, and him just not giving a shit that have led us to where we are today...
Herve: So what are you doing with this place now?
The Boss: Oh, a mix of things. I moved a few of the clerical types here, gave some of the Nazis their own floor to be tormented by the continuing existence of the Jew...
Herve: Accounting? [high fives Piett without either of them looking]
The Boss: Actually, no. Accounting is......well...

[The elevator stops on the 13th floor and the doors open to what was the accounting department. But what was once a floor filled with office cubicles and productive workers is now a darkened and volcanic-temperatured chamber of agony and turmoil. The 3 peak out ever so carefully, as demons and other hellbeasts traverse the floor to and fro, dragging the hapless and screaming damned behind them.]

Piett: Wow.
Herve: .....I used to go to lunch with Jim in accounting sometimes...

[He looks at one of the damned - a man whose intestines and internal organs are being fed to him while he hangs from rusty chains - and the faintest of tears swell up in Herve's eye. The door closes.]

Herve [somberly]: That was Jim....

[The rest of the elevator ride is rather quiet, but doesn't last long. The elevator reaches the top floor and they exit into the executive area. Surprisingly, or not, the executive floor is still very well maintained and retain its high-quality glamor.]

Piett: Well. Nice to see the head honcho floor looks befitting of the rich bureaucrat types.
The Boss: Indeed. The filth below us needs to be set apart from the rest of us.

[Herve looks over at a conference room, filled with small business individuals being feasted upon by hideous vampires in suits. Before he can make the fairly obvious sociopolitical joke, though, he bumps into a janitor who is tending to some basic maintenance work on the floors.]

Herve: Oh. Sorry about that.
Janitor: No problem, sir. Sorry I was in the way.

[Herve walks, then stops, then turns back to to the janitor as he speaks aloud.]
Herve: Why is Obscuro a janitor?
Obscuro: Wait. You remember me!
Herve: Sure.
Obscuro: I'm honored, sir! It's good to be out of the basement of forgotten supporting characters. [pause] Even though my gimmick is that I am obscure.
Herve: Yup.
Obscuro: So if you remember me, then......then that would mean...
Herve: Uh huh?

[Pause]

Obscuro: ........I'm even more of a fail than I originally believed myself to ever be.
Herve: Gotcha. [points, winks, grins, leaves]

[Pause]

Obscuro: Well, I'm done. [throws his mop down, leaves]

[Herve catches up with a still-braggard Boss and a still-uninterested Piett. Outside the main executive suite, Graham nods and opens the doors. Suddenly an administrative assistant hands the Boss some paperwork. He signs them, kicks her square in the face, slaps her ass as she lays unconscious on the ground and straightens his tie.]

The Boss: It's good to be The Boss.
Piett: Classy.
Graham: I can't tell you how happy I am that he doesn't do that to *me* every time.
Herve: *Every* time?
Graham [sheepishly]: Yeah...
Herve: You ready?
Piett: Let me just post this last Quickmeme and I'll be--

[The doors open, and Piett catches a glimpse of who is at the conference table.]
Piett: Oh.
Herve: Wait, Quickmeme is what you've been doing this whole ti--oh.
Lucy Ferr: Firmus.
Piett: Lucy.
Herve: Lucy.
Lucy Ferr: Herve.
Herve: Piett.
Piett: Herve.
Lucy Ferr: Piett...Herve.
Piett and Herve: Lucy.
The Boss: Graham.
Graham: Boss.
The Boss: Dammit, stop and tell them--

[In the background, a figure that looks like a janitor falls past the window to his obvious death far below.]

Piett, Herve, Lucy and Graham: Obscuro.
The Boss: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

[Piett and Herve chuckle. Lucy groans and Graham shakes his head.]

The Boss: Let's just get this over with.
Piett and Lucy: Yes, please, let's.
Herve: Awww. Even with their estranged marraige finally ending in the eyes of the law and Satan himself, they're still talking together.
Graham: Wait, does that mean we're not going through w--
Piett and Lucy: No. We are. We definitely are.
Herve: AWWWWWWWW [Piett throws his cellphone at him] Ok I'll stop.

[Graham places a suitcase on the table and opens it. A golden light illuminates the room. The Boss pulls out the divorce papers and the suitcase is closed and removed from sight.]

Herve: Wait, so the Pulp Fiction suitcase was divorce-related? [long pause] Holy shit, is that it? Did I just legit figure that shit out?!?!
The Boss: There used to be a lot more bloodletting to divorce. Sacrifices, blood soaked altars. Good times. But now it's just a nice tidy piece of paper.
Piett: I'd have expected more agony out of divorcing your sister.
The Boss [leans back in his chair]: Normally, yeah. But I lost a football bet with an archangel and one of the stips was that I gotta "take it easy" on divorce for a while. [sips water] Mind you, he didn't say "no divorces", just "take it easy." Either way, you're real lucky.
Herve: Was it one of those NFL games with the horrible replacement refs?
The Boss: Replacement refs? [pause] OH COME ON, DID THEY FUCK ME OVER AGAIN?!?!
[Herve snickers, but then immediately stops that. Before any more comedic magic can be made, Piett and Lucy sign the papers.]

Herve: That's it?
Piett and Lucy: That's it.
Herve: Ok, you can stop that. You're divorced.
The Boss: Wow. I expected......more anguish. [looks up, shakes fist] Damn you, Paco!!
Graham: Archangel Paco?
Herve: Goddamn affirmative action.

[The Boss takes the papers and looks them over.]

The Boss: Odd signatures aside, they appear in order.
Herve: Hang on, did I technically witness this, even though I wasn't paying much attention?
The Boss: Sure.

[Herve grabs the papers regardless and looks them over. But he doesn't even get past the stationary's header...]

Herve: You renamed the company WOOKIEETOOTS?!?!
The Boss: What? It's cute.
Herve: It's awful!!!

[The Boss points, winks, grins, leaves.]

Herve: And you're a thief, too, you sinister genius!!

Piett: Are we done?
Lucy: Haven't you been paying attention?
Piett: I meant this whole ordeal. Is it done with?
Lucy: Yeah.
Piett: Good.
Lucy: Great.
Piett: Fine.
Lucy: Terrific.
Graham: This was a very well written, thoroughly explained and compelling seperation, wasn't it?
Herve: No. It was just a plot device that ran out of steam years ago when the series rebooted three or four too many times. [pause] Hey, I just explained it, I think. But don't worry, they'll get back together.
Graham: No they won't.
Herve: Trust me, man. Call it either blind faith or predictable storytelling, but they totally will.



[Many months later. Piett and Herve are watching NFL replacement refs continuing to put the fanbase over a barrel.]



Herve: You never got back together.
Piett: Nope.
Herve: Huh.

[The phone rings. Herve answers.]

Herve: Shut up, Graham. [hangs up]


*fin*