Scene: The DFO clubhouse, where anxious prospect PK, notepad in hand, is asking DFO member Covalent Blonde what this patch means:

Covalent Blonde slaps the notepad out of PK’s hand.

Covalent Blonde: Get a God Damn Snack!

PK scurries off to the kitchen, where he can be heard rooting through the refrigerator.

[DOOR FLIES OPEN]

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van enters the clubhouse in a haze of smoke.

OSZ (checking his watch): Is it 4:20 already?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: It is somewhere, amirite?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van holds up his own hand and high-fives it. 

Covalent Blonde: Where have you been?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: At a concert, baby!  I went to see the greatest band in the world! Woo!

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van begins playing air guitar and banging his head to music that only he can hear. Covelent Blonde and OSZ watch, torn between fascination and revulsion.

OSZ: Should we…I dunno, call a doctor? What if he swallows his tongue doing that?

Covalent Blonde (shrugging): It wouldn’t be the first time. Remember last year? Brain-dead for nearly three minutes, and look at him now. He’s fine.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van starts playing his air guitar behind his head and lewdly swings his hips.

Covalent Blonde: Well, I mean…fine-ish.

The song in his head evidently over, Marc Trestmans Windowless Van lifts his arms in the air triumphantly.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Yeah! Thank you and good night!

PK comes back from the kitchen with a greasy basket full of chicken nuggets.

PK: Hey, guys, guess what I found? Chicken nuggets! I love nuggets…I mean, there’s nothing better than a nugget, right?

Covalent Blonde slaps the nugget basket out of PK’s hands. Nuggets fly everywhere. One flies into the open mouth of Marc Trestmans Windowless Van. He chews happily and high-fives himself again.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Woo! Score!

PK: Hey! My nuggets!

PK begins scrabbling around on the floor, collecting his nuggets.

The sound of Pearl Jam’s “State of Love and Trust” emanates from Marc Trestmans Windowless Van’s pocket. He begins to bang his head again.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Woo! Encore!

Covalent Blonde (rolling her eyes): It’s your ringtone. Just answer your phone.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van pulls the phone out of his jeans pocket. He talks briefly, looks startled and then hangs up.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Dudes! That was Horatio! He’s in a rumble and needs our help!

Covalent Blonde: Can’t take my ride. Sorry, she’s in the shop getting a new paint job.

OSZ: You’re painting it gold and red, aren’t you?

Covalent Blonde looks at the ceiling, ignoring OSZ.

OSZ: You’ve got a problem. The glory days are gone, just let them go.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Hey, we could take my van!

OSZ and Covalent Blonde both look horrified.

OSZ: God…no!

Covalent Blonde: NO! I mean…well, actually I mean just that. No. Never again.

OSZ: Guess that means we’re taking my bike.

Covalent Blonde: Seriously? The three of us?

OSZ: It’s fine. Someone else can ride on the seat. I don’t use it much while I’m peddling anyway.

Covalent Blonde: Whatever. I call dibs on the handlebars.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Road trip! Let’s go!

OSZ, Covalent Blonde and Marc Trestmans Windowless Van leave.  Forgotten on the floor, PK sticks his head up, his mouth full of nuggets.

PK: Gee, where’d everyone go?

Cut to: The City’s Police Department.  Sitting behind his desk is the department’s Top Detective. 

He is approached by the Chief, who shows him a DFO patch.

Chief:  What do you make of this?

Top Detective:  That’s a DFO patch, sir.  Worn by a good two-thirds of all active members.  It signifies part of their sick cult mentality.

Chief:  Do you know what it means?

Top Detective:  Yazzir.  It means “Game On, Pants Off.”

Chief:  They…remove their pants?

Top Detective:  Yazzir.  They seem to think it’s funny.  But it’s not so funny when someone else sees their bare legs.  It’s just a game to them, sir.  They think it’s fun to “shock the straights.”  Well, these straights are the ones who pay their taxes.  They build things, things these DFOers would love to tear down.  The straights are the ones who make America great, and it makes me sick to think of these twisted DFO weirdos sitting around with no pants, making a mockery of everything this country was built on.

Chief:  It sounds like you’re well-informed on the DFO, detective.

Top Detective:  Yazzir.  But I’m nothing special.  I’m like every other cop in this department.  I do my homework, and when a bulletin crosses my desk, I read it.  Every word.

Chief:  We’ve got one of these guys in holding, downstairs.  Real tough guy.  He’s not talking so far, but maybe you can get something out of him.  You want to take a crack?

Top Detective:  You don’t have to ask me twice, sir.

To be continued…