WE HAAATESSSSSSSS IT FOREVEERRRRR

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Delayed Reaction: A Very Short Play

Characters:
Executive - A big important fellow at Nintendo of America.
Smedley - A lowly gofer.

Setting:
NOA HQ on January 3rd, 2008

Executive: Smedley!

Smedley: Yes, sir?

Executive: I have been informed that the studio in Tokyo has completed programming on Super Smash Bros. Brawl.

Smedley: This is true, sir.

Executive: Aw, excellent! We'll be getting this baby out on time and raking in the green, or so my infallible market psychics tell me.

Smedley: Well, sir...

Executive: Yes, yes, yes, once I get that nagging ex-wife off my back with those blasted child support payments, me and Miz Honey will be off to the Bahamas...

Smedley: Actually, sir...something has come up.

Executive: What! What is it now?

Smedley: Our contacts in Japan tell us the game has to be delayed a week...because...because...it's so popular, they don't think they'll be able to meet demand!

Executive: You just saved yourself a thrashing, Smedley. This is good, it sounds like it will make us EVEN MORE money! Let us also delay it a week, make sure every 8-year-old and man-child gives us their sweet-tasting retail dollars on day one...

Smedley:...That...That's...the other thing....

Executive: Hm?

Smedley: We...sorta...don't...have...the...English...copy...ready...for...

Executive: Yes, Yes, SPIT IT OUT!

Smedley: wecan'tgetitdoneintimeforfeburarytenth!

Executive: WHAT! WHAT KIND OF INCOMPETENCE AM I SURROUNDED BY?!?

Smedley: It's not...our fault...sir...pleasedon'thitme!

Executive: THEN WHAT HAPPPENED?

Smedley: Our production copy...it was sort of...stolen.

Executive: HOW COULD IT BE STOLEN?! WHO DID THIS?! I'LL GET THE GODDAMN FBI ON THEIR ASSES SO FAST THEY'LL WISH THEY DOWNLOADED A METALLICA CD INSTEAD!!!

Smedley: You're not going to believe me.

Executive: What possible answer could you have that I can't believe in? This is California, for god's sake!

Smedley: It was...a cult.

Executive: A CULT? ARE YOU JOKING?!

Smedley: No, sir. It was a cult. A cult that worships...something or other...one of those dark sleeping gods with an unpronouncable name.

Executive: What could a cult want with the production copy of Super FREAKING SMASH BROTHERS?

Smedley: Apparently, it has the exact opposite properties of an ancient disk they have...and when the two are combined, they will unleash horrors upon the Earth unthinkable to the minds of man.

Executive: Ohhhhhh...all those millions of dollars...

Smedley: However, sir, there is some good news...

Executive: What good news could you possibly have after this?

Smedley: We have hired every spy, mercenary, masked vigilante, magician, cyborg, and alien among us on Earth to raid the cult's compound and reclaim the disc. We had to siphon money from the production of the Mother DS collection to do so, but who'll notice? They should have it back soon.

Executive: Alright, alright...as long as this is taken care of...we'll just have to delay it an extra month...my blood pressure is going nuts...Smedley?

Smedley: Yes, sir?

Executive: Get me a Vodka, some Vicodin, and a prostitute from China Town.

Smedley: Right away, sir!

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