Hard Ride to Nowhere (Chapter 1)

Scene:  F.B.I. Headquarters.  Inside several agents are meeting with local law enforcement about a new gang taking the country by storm.

FBI Director:  So, men, tell me what you’ve got on these…what are their names again?

Agent #1: Door Flies Open, sir.  We have no idea what it means.

Agent #2:  But we do know they’re bad news, sir…bad news.  

Agent#1:  That’s right, sir.  But at great risk and significant cost to our men, we were able to gain custody of a set of their gang colors.  I’ve got to warn you, sir, it isn’t pretty.

FBI Director:  All right, all right, enough drama.  Let’s see the thing.

Agent #1 opens the closet and takes out the denim vest.  He hesitates, then turns it around.

FBI Director:  Gah!  That’s…that’s hideous!  Good lord, I never even imagined… And that..that thing in the middle…what is it?

Agent#2:  We don’t know for certain, sir, but they seem to worship it.

FBI Director:  This bunch of hoodlums disturbs me more & more.  What else have we got on them?

Agent #1:  Well, sir, we have some of their achievement patches.  We don’t know what they all mean, but…

FBI Director: All right, let’s see them.

Agent #1:  This patch is a popular one, sir.  Most of the DFO members wear it.

FBI Director:  But what are they saying here?  What don’t they care about?

Agent #2:  Anything, sir, and everything.

FBI Director:  What about this one?  It’s just a bunch of nonsense.

Agent#2:  It means “Call Me Chick, I Dare You.”  It’s worn by female members of the gang.

FBI Director:  There are women in the DFO?  What kind of woman would associate with these reprobates?

Agent #2:  Evidently very intelligent, highly educated ones, sir.  We had a man attempt to get close last year.  He tried to gain entry by bragging about his…prowess, sir.

Agent #1 holds his hands nearly a foot apart

FBI Director:  So?  I would think that type of talk would impress these…people.

Agent #2:  Not really, sir.  One of the women commented that, statistically, judging by his height, weight and ethnic background, it was 92.4% likely that he was…below average.

Agent #1 holds his hands just a few inches apart

FBI Director:  My…God…

Agent #2:  Yes, sir.  He took it so hard that he ate his gun.

FBI Director:  You mean…?

Agent #2:  Yes, sir.  The chocolate guns you gave out at Christmas last year.  He ate the whole thing in one sitting, then moved on to the Easter basket that you handed out in April.  He’s…he’s gained thirty pounds, sir.  And he never stops crying.

Agent #1, furious, hits the wall

FBI Director:  Get a grip on yourself, man, we have a job to do!  Now tell me more about these patches.  What’s this one?  It looks innocuous enough.

Agent #1:  It stands for “Banned For Life,” sir.  The DFO members were once part of another organization, the KSK.

FBI Director:  The Ku Klux Klan?  Why, this gets worse all of the time!

Agent #2:  No, sir.  The KSK…it was an organization dedicated to the ridicule of professional football.   When it was corporatized and turned into a profitable part of the United States economy, these DFO types rebelled.

FBI Director (looking at the American flag):  By God, I want these heathens.  I want all of them, do you understand me?

Agent #1:  Yes, sir, and that’s why we came to you.  We have good news, sir.  Great news.  It took months, but…we have a man on the inside.

Cut to: The DFO Clubhouse.  Members are lounging around and empty beer cans are strewn about.  There’s a large box full of magazines in the corner marked “Martin.”  A big-screen television is showing a football game between the Tennessee Titans and the Houston Texans.

OSZ:  I refuse to believe these are real teams.  Look, can’t we watch the San Diego/Cleveland game?

Covalent Blonde (her eye is twitching):  What did I tell you about…Cleveland?

OSZ (looking down, mumbling):  We don’t talk about Cleveland, ever.

Covalent Blonde:  Don’t let it happen again.  Hey, where’s our prospect?

OSZ:  Out front, drinking his half-caf, half-decaf, extra creamy super-duper frappuccino with extra whip.  Why?

Covalent Blonde (yelling):  Hey, newbie!  Get your double-wide in here!

[DOOR FLIES OPEN]

PK enters, wiping whip cream off his lip, then licking it off his fingers…then licking it off the side of the cup…then…look, it’s just kind of disturbing, so let’s move on

PK:  Hey, guys!  Boy, it’s hot out there!  I remember seeing a Cubs game back in 1989, and it was hot then, too!  I can just picture Greg Maddux out there on the mound…

Covalent Blonde:  Uh-huh.  Look, meat, we need you to do something for us.  Do it right, and you get this:

PK:   Gosh, that’s great!  What does it mean?

PK leans in close, taking out a notepad and pencil

To Be Continued…