BREAKING: Coleman's Cabinet Picks

The Coleman Campaign is proud to announce our choices for the Redondo Beach Mayoral Cabinet. As Mayor Elect, I have been tasked with the tremendous responsibility of finding the best and the brightest to act as my senior advisors. This list will continue to grow as we approach election day, which is a stodgy formality given that I've already won according to the most recent polls.
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JJ Weldon is our top pick for City Manager. JJ has a very impressive resume. Besides being a preacher, JJ has managed a town in Guyana, and received zero complaints from the residents.

Make way for Andre n' Sawyer, who we are happy to name as Captains of the New Task Force To Enforce Doggie Decency and Obscenity Ordinances. These brand new laws, which are for your own good by the way, include provisions for pooches that make it illegal for any casual canine to leave the house without wearing pants. What's that you say my friend? Streaking pups not a big deal? Not a big deal?! The Security of the State Must Maintained At All Costs!!! Violators shall be leashed. Oh, and also, with Bill Brand's Crowd banning plastic bags, we'll probably have to insist on Doggie Diapers in the not-too-distant future, as well.

Going by the stage name of Quick Cow Si, our cabinet pick for Ministry of Edibles has already been confirmed by the Grand Council of Andromeda. The galactic space authority, not the town west of Albuquerque. Last time I checked he was a hobo millionaire. Si will help make Our Administration so transparent that it is invisible.

Boom! Up next we got Dave McGrathers for Secretary of Transportation. Bold initiatives are what this man is all about! Traffic jam? No problem. We're tearing up the streets and laying down sod! Don't have a bike? Tough cookies! Time to slip on some slippers. Dummies!

Who could forget Jamie Quinones and Michael Tannenberg for the Department of Disaster Preparedness. A wanted slipper thief, Quinones has a ton of experience with disasters. Like that one time when Dave pushed him through a plate-glass window. When no disasters are on the horizon Quinones and Tannenberg will be given snow shovels and posted outside Redondo City Hall in case a snow storm pounds our fair hamlet. For this job they will be paid $135,000 a year. Oddly enough, this is roughly half the amount Bill Workman was paid for doing even less work.

Commodore Torp has been confirmed for Press Secretary. Commodore Torp has a way with words and boy can he sell. I once overheard him close a wrong number. He will be able to sell anyone on the Abusement... or rather Amusement Park set to swallow Redondo and every hapless chap in it. Torp has an interesting idea: Sell the Pier to an Indian tribe and give them permission to turn it into a casino, or, better yet, incorporate Redondo into a tribe and take on the project ourselves.

Next we have Dale Maximus, a truly enigmatic figure, for the newly created position of Pier Czar and Head of Security. This local knows a punk when he sees one and knows how to get the trains moving. Dale being a Billionaire Real Estate Tycoon was a major factor in this decision.

Gavin McGroggy is to be named Head of the Department of Smoking as well as Redondo's Ambassador to Israel. Gavin has always had deep love for the Jewish people. Just ask Scott Trimble. Juggling positions, Gavin is also to be the sole bureaucrat in the Ministry of Information. Why appoint a Babblesmith to Ministry of Information, you ask? That's easy! Because when people are confused, worried, or angry they tend to buy stuff, which is great for our bottom line.

I talk to a lot of people. People like Dexter. I asked Dexter, what is the number one problem facing our City? And you know what he said? Stuff. He doesn't have enough stuff. And see, that's the problem. Politician's promise stuff but then they don't deliver on that promise. So what are we going to do folks? Are we going to stop believing in stuff? No. That's silly. What we need to do is stop believing in Politicians and what they say. Well except for me, believe me and what I save to say. Oh yeah, and yourself, believe in yourself. That's important. You should believe in yourself. And, of course, Dexter. Believe in Dexter. He's a good egg. And that's why he is the new Secretary of Stuff.

We are lucky to have Seamus O'Blivion as Secretary of Fun. I mean, just look at him. Guy's a riot. Seamus will also be in charge of Redondo's Emergency Booze Supply, which is only to broken into when Pat Aust comes around to burn down the pier again. The little firebug inevitably will and when he does we'll all sit back and raise a toast to the fantastic spectacle over the bay.

Far from being just a regular guy, Carlitos, our next Treasurer, is sure to turn Redondo's fortunes around. We are certain his winning streak shall be the rising tide that lifts all boats. Even if Carlitos blows $50,000 on Scratchers, it will still be a much better management of funds than under the Current Administration who spent the same amount on the City's slogan: More to Sea. Stayed up all night but it was worth it, huh? Also, Carlitos would make a great Head of Children's Protective Services because of that one time he saved that kid from bursting into flames when the dummy was standing too close to the fireplace at Charlie's Place.

Cantucius will serve as Resident Rock Star and Ambassador to Japan. His long and checkered past was a major factor in the decision.

Jones has been named Game Warden to the New Theme Park; Gloriously Wholesome Park, or Glory Whole, for short. His primary job is keeping the dinosaurs, who live in condos above the Pier, safely and solidly in the Park.

Joe Von Ohio is to be the named the Under-Secretary For Blowing Things Way Out of Proportion. The founder and flounder of JoeFest, this man has had a long history of making mole hills into mountains, like the time someone dropped their keys and he dove under his desk thinking it was a gun shot. Joe is considered an asset, not a liability, or maybe just an ass.

Watch out Jack, our next pick for Secretary of War is Anthony Hermondo. He'll keep the troops in line. This legendary Military figure shall be our point man on the secret plan to burn down the Redondo Chamber of Commerce and blame it on the Communists in Manhattan Beach. Moreover, his photography skills are to serve greatly in our propaganda efforts.

Copperer is one heck of a choice for Secretary of Secretaries. He will be interviewing non-stop until we find quality receptionists to fill all positions, except missionary, that's so vanilla.

Stefan Squirrel is now in charge of Housing and Urban Development. His plan; tear down North Redondo's ramshackle housing (mostly made from cardboard, stucco, duct tape, and those little snap on bits you get from IKEA) and replace them with, you guessed it, geodesic domes. Good luck Stefan and God speed.

We are proud to have Dave Hauler confirmed for Secretary of the interior. Heck, while we're at it, why not Secretary of the Exterior, as well.

Welcome Wayne, our Head Carnival Barker for Gloriously Wholesome's Rent Coaster 9000. Our New Insane-to-the-Max Roller Coaster now includes underwater tubes!

Foreheads above the rest, dis guy Cy is confirmed as our new Secretary of De Fence.

This is NOT your Grandma's EXTREME MONSTER SKATE PARK 5000!!! Meet Kyle; Expert BMX Bike Instructor, Head Safety Inspector, and Collateral Damage Controller.

Bill Rock has been ramrodded into a position of Chief Science Advisor.

Meeecheeelleeee Amure will covertly act as Abusement Park Shill.

Mark Wood is our pick for Constitutional Legal Advisor. That's right folks, blow the dust off that ol' parchment, we're returning to the Constitution!

Captain Rick is now Head of Our Theme Park's Pyrotechnics Division. We found one of Pat Aust's journals in the charred remains of the old pier. We have our playbook. Bring S'mores It'll be the biggest thing since Pat Aust's Festival of Light!

Finally we have PETE NORAD to act as DEEP STATE. He pulls the strings.

And he likes to watch.

MORE CABINET PICKS TO COME...

NOISES OFF AT PALM CANYON THEATER

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A TED TALK ON LOVE

TED (or TIM) TALK sandwich board reads:

‘Vance Goodmore and the Psychology of Love’

Below reads:

‘Exciting Times: The Future of Robotics with Professor Yakimoto Kirosaki’

INT.   CONFERENCE ROOM  DAY

Scores of people fill the audience like anonymous judges in the court of public opinion.

From behind the curtain, Vance makes jabs at the curtain in an attempt to find the opening. Finding the part, he enters.

FREEZE FRAME with caption: VANCE

A few steps later he trips and barely manages to keep his footing.

He pans the audience disheveled, half-shaven, and sweaty. Squinting with bleary eyes he has trouble making out anything more than an audience of blobs.

Vance CLEARS THROAT and blinks some.

                                                            VANCE

                              What… is…

He presses a CLICKER.

SLIDE: ‘Love’ in fancy cursive lettering.

                                                            VANCE

                              … Love?

His initial jitters fade and he regains his composure, becoming the consummate professional.

NEXT SLIDE: People dancing around a bonfire.

                                                            VANCE

                              Around the world people dance, sing, fight, kill and die

for Love… but what is it… really?

NEXT SLIDE: A person about ready to be fed into an MRI

                                                            VANCE

We scanned the brain of patients who told us they

were in love and this is what we found…  

 

NEXT SLIDE: brain scan with a small area lit up mid-brain.

                                                            VANCE

                              Activity in a tiny little factory near the base of the brain

called the ventral tegmental area. We found activity in some

 cells called the A10 cells. Cells that actually make dopamine.

NEXT SLIDE: Diagram of the chemical structure of dopamine.

                                                            VANCE

A natural stimulant, and the cells spray it to many regions. Indeed,

the A10 region is part of the brain’s reward system. It’s below

the brain’s cognitive functions, the thinking processes, it’s

 below your emotions, it’s part of what we call the reptilian

core of the brain associated with wanting, with motivation,

with focus, and with craving. A region of the brain that will

take huge risks for enormous gains. A big rush.

NEXT SLIDE: map showing the different regions of brain; neo-cortex, limbic, and reptilian. Vance gives a lazy blink and subtly sticks out his tongue with the slide in background.

                                                            VANCE

                              The same kind of rush one receives when being liked on a social

networking platform…

Vance uses his cell phone as a prop and on instinct almost presses the button to check his phone. He slips the phone back into his pocket.

                                                            VANCE

And to a much larger degree the same kind of rush and the

same region of the brain that is activated by doing cocaine.

NEXT SLIDE: Cocaine laid out on a table.

                              VANCE

But just like the rush of cocaine, what goes up must come down.

NEXT SLIDE: The word ‘Entropy’, text is dissolved and scattered towards end of word.

                              VANCE

Or another way to put it; entropy. Everything moves in one

direction; from order to chaos, from hot to cold, this is

the second rule of thermodynamics, according to the laws

of Phyllis… physics… physics…

Vance takes a long blink and a deep breath. He opens his eyes and glares out on the audience sneering.

                                                            VANCE

                              I’ve studied this perverse, fuzzy feel good concept for most of my

adult life. And I have come to the undeniable conclusion

that love is no different than motorcycle racing, chanting

mantras for many hours in high altitudes, or the adrenaline

rush that comes from jumping off a cliff without a parachute.

Love’s sole purpose is to keep down the infant mortality rate.

A cruel trick of evolutionary biology. Love is biochemically no

different than eating large amounts of chocolate! But I

digest… digress…

Vance lifts the CLICKER and glowers.

NEXT SLIDE: A picture of Vance on graduation day in cap and gown; holding someone who’s been cropped out of the photo.

                                                            VANCE

                              I graduated from Ohio State University the same year the

Big Ear Radio Telescope was dismantled to make way for

a golf course expansion. For decades the Big Ear

had been searching the skies for signs of extraterrestrial

intelligence.

NEXT SLIDE: Giant satellite dishes.

                              VANCE

 They thought they found it in 1977. Radio astronomer

Jerry Ehman was combing through observation data,  

looking for evidence that alien civilizations might be trying

to communicate using radio waves, when he saw something

so interesting and so unique that he circled it and wrote

‘WOW’ in the margin.

NEXT SLIDE: picture of the ‘wow’ data print out.

                                                            VANCE

                              It turned out to be nothing… probably nothing… but that

didn’t matter as much, because for that one brief moment

he had found what he was looking for, the possibility that

there was something out there, something that might end

humanity’s isolation. That’s what love is. And sometimes

you send out those messages not expecting to hear back,

like SETI, like the search for Extra Terrestrial

Intelligence. Love is a hoax.

Vance takes out his cell phone, hovers his thumb over it as if to text, then lets it fall to the ground and stomps it into oblivion with the heel of his boot. He loses his footing and falls to the ground. Heaving some, Vance is on the verge of sobbing.

                                                            VANCE

                              But it doesn’t end there. Oh no. Oh God no. You see, a month

after that signal was received the Voyager 1 was launched

into deep space, far away from our Solar System. The Voyager 1

is the furthest man-made object from earth, ever. Aboard NASA

included a gold plated record that contained information about

humanity. They put lots and lots of audio on the disk, but one

song, one song in particular, a song by Blind Willie Johnson,

called ‘Dark was the Night and Cold was on the Ground’ was

chosen to represent to whoever or whatever found it what the

human emotion of loneliness is. Blind Willie Johnson wasn’t blind

his whole life, he was blinded when his step-mother threw lye

in his face and he died of Malarial fever when his home burned

down and he had nowhere else to live but on wet newspaper…

And now his song is out there in interstellar space representing…

that song… that song…  love is… it’s a crocodile… on the…

Unable to contain his welling emotions, Vance loses it and breaks down CRYING. Enter a robot with a tissue extended being controlled remotely by Professor Yakimoto.

 Vance looks up momentarily and, returning face to cupped hands, CRYS even harder.

The TED (or TIM) TALK logo flys across the screen.

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NIXON vs. CHECKERS

NIXON vs. CHECKERS

Nixon sits in an armchair and stares out on the audience as if they're a roaring fire. He is listening to his OLD TAPE RECORDINGS, which play faintly in the background. The reel runs out. His gaze shifts to Checkers (dude in dog costume) who lays on the floor next to his chair. Checkers lifts his head and the two make eye contact. Nixon breaks eye contact first and returns to his far off wistful look.

NIXON: You know, I have moments of clarity, moments of lucidity... where I see what I've done... ah heck, what do you know Checkers, you're just a dog...

Nixon gets up and retrieves Scotch bottle from corner. 

NIXON: You know, you know sometimes I feel like a dog, yeah, a dog that's been beaten for so long that... well... 

He pours drink and circles his spot as though looking for something.

NIXON:  A dog that's been beaten for so long that he gets to know himself through the beatings.

Nixon sits. Checkers SIGHS.

NIXON: My father tried to drown me... The Anaheim Ditch, by Yorba Linda standards, it was a historic ditch… brought in fresh water for the citrus crop, sugar-loaf soil, nothing would grow… my father figured he wouldn’t buy fertilizer until he brought in enough lemons to pay for it. He went bust. Idiot. Anyways, we weren't allowed to swim in it, or wade in it, the other kids, they were allowed, their parents let them, not us, not Frank, not my father. Prick. One day he saw us, me and my brothers, caught us playing in it. That miser grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, hauled me out, pushed me back in, taunted me, then threw me and my brothers in a couple more times just to drive the point home. The neighbor kids all laughed. Real hoot it was. Cock-suckers. He tried to drown me, tried to drown all of us… I’ve never told anyone that story. At least no one ever tried to drown you... it was one time and that was a Goddamn accident! I apologized, for crying out...

Checkers gets up and sits at Nixon's feet.

NIXON: Sometimes I wish you could talk, Checkers. And sometimes, I wish I could just be quiet. It’s like with the Great Silent Majority, once they get started, they never shut the fuck up!  

Checkers wanders about SNIFFING. Nixon sets up another reel, hits a few buttons, slugs his drink, and pours another.

NIXON: I get it; you’re supposed to running wild with a pack of your peers, not here, in this gilded cage. People aren’t that hard to figure out. People are like dogs, like a pack of wild dogs. People want to feel important, essential, they want to feel like they’re part of a group. Part of being part of a group is being loved. People want to be loved. People want to feel loved, Checkers. You love me, don’t you Checkers? I know you’d say so… if ya could…

Nixon slurps down his drink and pours another. Nixon doesn’t notice Checkers taking a shit behind him. Checkers returns to Nixon and paws at his knee.

NIXON: … Could ya Checkers? This once? Maybe just this once? I need to hear it. I think I need to hear it. Is it that impossible?

Checkers goes back to SNIFFING. Nixon shakes it off, sips drink.

NIXON: Maybe I don’t need to hear it… maybe nobody needs to hear it… be nice though, be nice to hear it… You know, maybe the Hippies are right, with all that free love shit, then, again, it’s got to mean something, it has to be earned, it can’t just be free… it can’t be that easy… it’s like I’ve always said, you can fool some of the people all the time, and all of the people some of the time… but ya can’t… well ah… you know…

Nixon demolishes drink.

NIXON: And the rest you carpet bomb into the fucking stone age… ha… you know that’s not, I shouldn’t have said… Look at me, I’m talking to a…

Nixon lets out a SIGH, gets up, stokes imaginary fire. He paces the length of the stage, gaining momentum.

NIXON: They’re gonna try and crucify for this. This, this, this thing, this Watergate thing… and you know, I’ve been set up. It’s a set up. Sure, I authorized the fund, they’re calling it a slush fund, but I never gave the go ahead to break into the Goddamn hotel. My tapes will prove that. My tapes will exonerate me. They’ll show… That’s why I, why I’ve… It’s this whole Bay of Pigs thing. But I tell ya what, I’m not going down without a fight. I’m a fighter Checkers. In ’62 they thought I was done. Hell, I thought I was done! When I made that speech saying, ‘you won’t have Nixon to kick around anymore.’ Felt like a dog. Just like a bloody dog. But I didn’t stay down. That’s not me. It’s in my blood; to get up and fight. And I even told Pat back then… I told her... Pat… thank God I’ve got Pat… you know… I used to drive her around on dates… when I first met her… I used to… used to drive her around… Jack Kennedy could get any girl he wanted… Jackie… Marilyn… but me… I used to be Pat’s fucking chauffeur while some swinging dick was in the back seat necking her… Christ I’m a fool! This entire time, a Goddamned irredeemable fool!

Nixon collapses and begins to SOB. Checkers walks over, rubs his snout against Nixon and licks him some. Nixon SNIFFLES.

NIXON: Oh Checkers! You’re the only one who’s been loyal, been good to me. I love you Checkers. I love you more than any stinking person in this whole Goddamn rotten world. I love you so much Checkers! You hear me?! I should have married you. I should have married you Checkers!

Nixon kisses Checkers between the eyes. Regaining his composure, Nixon returns to his chair. A beat and he realizes the TAPE RECORDER has been running.  

NIXON: Oh no… I thought I hit play… oh God, the recorder’s been running for... 18 minutes?! Oh God no!

Nixon presses a button to rewind the tape, producing a HIGH-PITCHED SQUEAL. When the tape returns to its origin he promptly smacks one last button.

NIXON: Delete that bloody nightmare.

He sips his scotch.

FIN.

My Dinner With Hillary

SCENE: RESTAURANT

Hillary: boy this restaurant is fancy schmancy, you know what, and to tell the truth, it doesn't do anything for me, give me a greasy spoon or a mom and pop on main street in Anytown America. Am I right? Yeah! Maybe even a Pop and Mom. See, I'm funny. So congratulations on winning the contest, do a you know you beat out over a billion people to have dinner with me!

Greg: wow... a billion people?

Hillary: a billion people.

Greg: Really, a billion people?

Hillary: I have international appeal!

Greg: Evidently.

Hillary: Let's sit. What's your name son?

Greg: Greg.

Hillary: Great! So tell us a little about yourself?

Greg: yeah, well, originally I'm from Minneapolis, well actually a suburb of Minneapolis, see my parents moved from Buffalo when we were young...

ACTION: Hillary is on her phone

Greg: There's 7 in our family toe...tal.... are you even listening?

Hillary: suuuuure.... Buffalo... me smoke 'm big peace pipe....

Greg: you know that's rude. It's treating me like trash

ACTION: Hillary giddily texts and swipes away on phone when something occurs to her and she slowly looks up horrified.

Hillary: Do the emails from your trash box delete automatically?  I mean if they're moved back to the inbox but then not favorited, i mean before hiding them in the do not read folder... oh god....

ACTION: Hillary stomps on phone/drops it in water and hands phone carcuss/ glass of water to the waiter.

Hillary: Dispose of this. Make it look like an accident. And for god sake, make sure the dumpster locks.

ACTION: waiter walks away and there's a tense moment.

Greg: I'm pretty sure they have a back-up server.

Hillary: waaaait?!?!

ACTION: another waiter comes out.

Hillary: oh

Waiter: Can I take your drink orders?

Hillary: I'll get a Shirley Temple.

ACTION: Hillary winks a lot, the waiter doesn't really get it.

Greg: um, just a coke.... the thing is, Hillary, I mean Mrs. Clinton, or ah Madam Secretary, what do I call you?

Hillary: I've been called worse, ha!

Greg: the thing is my friends sort of set me up, er signed me up for this. I mean you're nice, i like you and all, it's just I'm a Bernie Supporter.

Hillary: ... well jeez apparently you don't like me that much.

Greg: no, it's just, the thing is, like this restaurant, okay, like the guys in the kitchen are working really hard, they're busting their asses so the people who take orders can look good. The people up front get the recognition. They get the tip. They get all the glory. But they're just the face of it. Bernie Sanders is like the cook, sweating his balls off in the kitchen, making our food, giving us something proper to digest. And you're like the waiter, or waitress, or whatever you call it.

Hillary: server.

Greg: Exactly, you're a server; to the banks, to Wall Street, to the Military-Industrial Complex, the Prison-Industrial Complex, every complex you can think of!

Hillary: Look, we're here to have fun, so loosen up. Congratulations!

Greg: And why even have an election if it's gonna be decided by super-delegates?

Hillary: Super-delegate, that's funny (does superhero theme sing via mouth trumpet) I'm here to save the day. Ha ha, well now that's a hoot.

Greg: I mean seriously don't you think the super-delegate thing has run it's course and needs to go?

Hillary: (looks around) sure. You got a good head on your shoulders, have ya thought of college, in space?

Greg: I mean, like in Wyoming, how the hell did Bernie Sanders beat you by 12 points and only get 7 delegates out of the 14 possible delegates?! What's the point of even having an election?! That's like Russia.

Hillary: it's not like Russia.

Greg: it looks a lot like Russia.

Hillary: (game show buzzer noise) nope, sorry, try again!

Greg: well it's like China then.

Hillary: ... Look pal...let's try to have dinner... okay bub? And let's not talk about all this negative stuff. Whew, Phew, so negative... you! Take a chill pill Mac. Whew. So negative. A nice dinner. None of this talk about
Benghazi. Or massive voter fraud. Or deleting Classified e-mails. Or the NSA monitoring our phone calls, emails and everything else Or using the Clinton Foundation as a cover for tax evasion, hiring cronies, taking bribes from foreign countries. Or drafting trade deals that have effectively sold this country to the Chinese. Or arming the Muslim Brotherhood and funding the Muszadeen, which became Alciada then ISIS, to fight the Soviets in the 80's. While we're at it least not mention Whitewater, Vince Foster, commodity deals. The IRS targeting enemies, Libya, Iraq, Iran. DOJ spying on the press. SOLYNDRA! Threats to all of Bill’s former mistresses.  Or that time I stole the White House silverware when Bill left office. Or Secret Drone Rapes in Nicagra... whew I need a drink after that one!

Greg: Wait, what was that last one?

Hillary: (collects herself after a moment of panic) you really don't think I'm that stupid, do you Jeffrey?

Greg: The name's... (smugly) What can we talk about then?

ACTION: Hillary huddles with suits or touches her earpiece.

Hillary: sports. We can talk about sports... if you like...

Greg: ...Did you see the Patriots game last night?

Hillary: Let's just order food.

ACTION: Both hide faces in menus.

Greg: try the crow.

Hillary: I hear the Chef is very good here. He'll take care of you, he works for the CIA...

Greg: (gulp) the CIA?

Hillary: Nyes, the Culinary Institute of American. (puts down menu) well I know what I want. Garsong?

ACTION: waiter enters with drinks ready to take orders.

Hillary: yes mooseuer I will get the fried balony sandwich, I believe they call it a Trump steak here. Ha Ha Ha!

Waiter: we don't, I don't know what that is, we don't serve that here Secretary Clinton, Mrs.-

Hillary: I know that! I didn't think you served - I was making a joke - oh nevermind...

Waiter: I'm sorry, I didn't know, if that was a joke....

Hillary: Just give me the house meatloaf.

Greg: I'll have the duck. Thank you.

ACTION: waiter takes menus and is away.

Hillary: duck, eh? That reminds me of this one time I flew into a war zone under heavy fire and we had to duck coming off the plane.

Greg: Yeah, that never happened.

Hillary: heh heh. It could have.

Greg: It didn't. You come to a nice restaurant and you order the meatloaf?

Hillary: well, little Richard, if you really must know, it reminds me of a meal my grandmama used to make when we were kids... kinda of salty... really salty...

Greg: kind of like spam.

ACTION: Hillary in mid drink spits it all over Greg.

Hillary: the spam folder!!! What if you archive your spam folder in the favorites under junk in the inbox on outlook!?!?!? Oh no!!!

Greg: what?

Hillary: Stewart I have to go to the little girls room to find out if they have one for transgendered people....

ACTION: with a shit-eating grin, Hillary fast slow walks away keeping her eyes on Greg who stares straight ahead drenched. A long beat and he turns to the waiter.

Greg: she's not coming back, is she?

Waiter: she does this every time...

ACTION: Greg turns to audience/camera

Greg: you know, when I accepted a dinner invitation from Hillary Rodham Clinton I never knew I would be on the menu...

ACTION: the Chef comes out and sticks Greg in the neck with something concealed in his paw. Greg collapses on the table as the Chef snickers off.

FIN.