The scene: The DFO clubhouse, where several DFOers are gathered. Marc Trestmans Windowless Van is hanging out on the couch with Sharkbait, his crabman friend, watching Ah-nuld movies. Six feet away, Moosemas Gorilla is sprawled out on a recliner, Horatio Cornblower perched on his shoulder. Six feet away from them sits WCS, a pony keg in his lap that he’s drinking from with a long straw. Six feet away from him sits Old School Zero, Which, considering the diameter of the room, means he’s sitting outside the clubhouse on a lawn chair, looking dejected. Occasionally he gets up and takes a peek inside through the window, then sighs and sits back down again.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (lighting up a joint): Whoa, man! Watch this, dude, we’re getting to the good part!

Sharkbait: All be bok!

Horatio Cornblower: Good part? You’re watching Red Heat, Marc. There aren’t any good parts.

Moosemas Gorilla: Ook. Ook-ook.

Horatio Cornblower: Seriously. It wouldn’t be so bad, but this is the seventh time you guys have watched this stupid movie!

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (taking a yuuuuge drag): You guys don’t like John Belushi? That’s harsh, man.

WCS (burping): That’s Jim Belushi, Marc, John’s less-talented but still breathing brother.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (exhaling): Whoa, seriously, man?

Horatio Cornblower (nodding): We’ve been trying to tell you that, Marc. For three frekking days!

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (passing his joint to Sharkbait): Aw, shoot, man. Like, I was going to segue into a whole new batch of movies, man.

Marc holds up a stack of DVDs that include The Principal, Taking Care of Business and K-9.

Horatio Cornblower: No! Not a chance! I’m putting my foot down, Marc!

WCS (slurping the last of the pony keg through his straw): Your teeny-tiny little foot…

Moosemas Gorilla (angry) Ook!

WCS (burping again): Aw, take a banana and shove it up yer…

Suddenly, Otto’s Brain comes bouncing down the stairs, giggling as he recites a set of numbers over and over.

Otto’s Brain (on the bounce): 31-20! 31-20!

Covalent Blonde (chasing Otto down the stairs): Just wait until I get my hands on you, you obnoxious ball of brain!

Otto’s Brain zips between the other DFOers. Covalent Blonde starts after him, but stops as everyone glares at her.

WCS (shaking the sadly empty pony keg): You know the rules, CB. Six feet.

Covalent Blonde (glaring): Oh, sure. I’ve gotta stay six feet back while he gets to roll around wherever he wants!

Otto’s Brain (gloating): My globe’s invulnerable. I’m impervious to disease.

Covalent Blonde (glaring): If I catch you, we’re gonna find out if you’re impervious to punching.

Horatio Cornblower: Ah, take it easy, CB. We’re all feeling a little stir-crazy.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Fer sure, CB. Like, we’re all cooped up in here when we should be out, like, having adventures. Like, going into the past, or beating up vampires, or eating at Wally’s World of Waffles…

WCS: I heard they got a 60-incher now! Or they did, before, y’know…

Covalent Blonde: This sucks.

Horatio Cornblower: Look, CB, we’re going to get through this. We’ll…

[DOOR FLIES OPEN]

Ballsofsteelandfury comes wandering in, a hi-tech set of Virtual Reality goggles on his head and a silly grin on his face.

Ballsofsteelandfury: Why, I can think of a few ways you can thank me, Princess!

WCS: Oh, for… Is he still playing that stupid VR game Zymm made for you guys last Moosemas? The Purple-Headed Planet or whatever?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Yeah, man. Like, it’s a cool game and all, but it got kinda lame. It just kept going on and on and on and on and…

Covalent Blonde: And the controls sucked. I couldn’t drive in the game without hitting a tree.

Horatio Cornblower: I dunno, sounds pretty accurate to me…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van and Sharkbait lean back to maintain six feet of distance as Ballsofsteelandfury wanders by, pursuing a virtual princess.

Ballsofsteelandfury: C’mere you little minx! You and I have some Steel Ballin’ to do!

Ballsofsteelandfury wanders through the room as the DFOers all recoil in an effort to stay six feet away.

WCS (retreating to the back of his chair): Six feet, Balls! Six feet!

Ballsofsteelandfury (shooting a finger gun): Well, it’s not that big, Princess!

Ballsofsteelandfury wanders toward the stairs. Covalent Blonde backs away but he keeps advancing and making kissy sounds. She puts a foot on the railing and vaults over him, catching the ceiling fan above the pool table. She hangs from it, glaring, as Ballsofsteelandfury climbs the stairs and turns the corner.

Covalent Blonde: This is getting inconvenient.

Horatio Cornblower: Inconvenient is being six inches tall and living out of a Big Jim toy camper.

Moosemas Gorilla: Ook?

Horatio Cornblower: Ah, not your fault, big guy. We’re all just getting cabin fever.

Covalent Blonde (still hanging from the ceiling fan, and rotating slowly around): Yeah. Maybe we should…

[DOOR FLIES OPEN]

The DFOers gasp in amazement as Future Clone Debbie Harry, accompanied by her lackey PK, steps into the room. PK’s got a man-bun now. It’s pretty bad, guys. I mean, take a minute to think about it, really visualize it, and you’ll see what I mean.

Horatio Cornblower: What the hell? You guys really have some nerve, showing up here…

Future Clone Debbie Harry (imperiously): Silence, you little fool! I’m not here for you, I’m here to finally settle the score with my errant husband! Now tell me where Moose is, and I might go easy on you.

PK: You probably won’t, though.

Future Clone Debbie Harry: Well, no…probably not. But there’s no sense in them knowing that, you idiot!

WCS: Whatever. Look, if you want to find Moose, you’re going to just have to go to Hell.

Future Clone Debbie Harry: How dare you!

Otto’s Brain: No, seriously. Moose is the ruler of Hell these days. The Infernal Majesty. The Big Kahuna. The Top Banana. The…

Future Clone Debbie Harry (pulling out a cool, techie thingy with blinking lights & stuff): Silence! I don’t believe you! Now, for the last time, tell me where he is so I can use my T.A.T.A.S. on him and finish this once and…

WCS (smirking): Your…tatas?

Future Clone Debbie Harry (exasperated): Yes, my T.A.T.A.S., you simpleton! Now tell me where he is or…

Covalent Blonde (still slowly spinning): Uh-huh. Look, no offense, but I don’t think your tatas are bodacious enough to threaten anyone.

Future Clone Debbie Harry (glaring): I’ll have you know I built this Tactically Advanced Time Acceleration System myself! And I assure you, it is indeed bodacious!

PK (nodding vehemently, his man-bun bouncing on his head like a ball of yarn): Yeah! And I helped!

Future Clone Debbie Harry (glaring): Did you, though?

PK: Well, kinda. I mean, I brought you lunch. That time.

Covalent Blonde (dropping off the fan onto the pool table): OK, look, the reunion’s been fun and all, but social distancing is really not gonna be enough to keep me from kicking your ass from here to…

[THE DOOR DOESN’T FLY OPEN, BUT IT OPENS JUST ENOUGH TO KNOCK INTO PK, WHO STUMBLES FORWARD INTO FUTURE CLONE DEBBIE HARRY]

Future Clone Debbie Harry (dropping her T.A.T.A.S.): Oh, frek!

The T.A.T.A.S. hits the floor. The lights all stop blinking and instead glow brightly as energy emanates from the device and swirls around the room. All inside are caught up in it as it swirls into a great vortex, then, in a burst of light and color, everyone disappears. The T.A.T.A.S. beeps once and then goes silent.

[DOOR OPENS GENTLY]

OSZ (peeking in): Hey, can I come in? It’s getting lonely out there, and the coyotes are starting to look at me like I’m a juicy steak. Guys…? Huh, they must’ve gone upstairs.

Old School Zero’s foot hits the T.A.T.A.S. as he enters the room, and it goes spinning off under the pool table.

OSZ (sitting down on the couch and picking up the pile of DVDs): Whoa! A Jim Belushi triple-feature! Man, someone pinch me, I must be dreaming!

To be continued…?