Team-TCP's First Staff Meeting

  I awoke early Wednesday morning, around noon, to find a message waiting in my Team-TCP inbox or, as I call it, my business email.  It's the address I hand out while cruising for chicks - I'm yet to find one who's impressed.

            I never cared much for the TCP emails; I find them to be shrewd, impersonal, and negative - like the one I received from SnideAugustine a few days earlier:

Dear Rocky,

            I give up.  If you can guarantee the safe return of my pet cat, Mittens, then I will grant you permission to use my likeness in your story, My Day with a Hugh Jackman Impersonator.  You win.  I hope this makes you happy, you sick, psychotic son of a bitch!

Burn in hell,

SnideAugustine

            There was no communication left within the organization.  We had fallen out of contact with one another and no longer concerned ourselves with the progress, ideas, and happening of our fellow writers

- the men that we once called our friends.      

            If that camaraderie still existed, Snide would have known that I dropped him from my story, in favor of Cap'n Kirk, and changed the title to My Day with an Albino Barry White.  Also, he would have known that Mittens was hit by a bus.

            This latest email, however, was different.  Its lucid, informative prose gave me hope that our internal issues would be resolved, allowing us to become the close-knit team that we had once been. This would give direction to the website, driving it to levels of success that had never been imagined.

            I skimmed the message - basic gist: staff meeting, Saturday.

            "Amtrak," I shouted as I stormed down the hall to his bedroom, "Amtrak!"

            An untidy man, covered in grease and computer coolant, answered the door.  "What you want?"

            I swallowed my gag reflex as the smell of burning computer chip touched my nostrils.  "What's this hogwash about a meeting on Saturday?"

            "I've had the feeling that we're falling out of contact," he explained, "like we've lost all communication and no one cares about the success or development of the website.  I just want to get us all together and discuss it because, if we keep going like this, the site will never survive."

            "A blind, demented monkey could see that none of that is true."

            Amtrak ignored me.  "I thought that, since we would all be in town on Saturday, that it was the optimal time to get things ironed out."

            "But why Saturday," I whined, "that's my day off."

            "First of all," Amtrak began, "you're unemployed - so technically, everyday is a day off.  Second, I just told you why we have to do it on Saturday.  And finally, I doubt it's going to happen anyway.  I got a reply from Skittles - he says that he has other business to attend to - and Cap'n Kirk plans on being hungover."

            "The Cap'n will be there," I squealed, my eyes aglow with excitement.

            "No, I just said--"  Amtrak stopped abruptly, considering an idea that had just crept into his head.  "Unless you can convince him to show up," he claimed.  "You are his best friend, after all."

            "Did the Cap'n say that?" I asked in, what I hoped was, a casual tone.

            "Oh yeah," he confirmed.  "I bet an email from you would really change his mind."

            "I'm on it!"

            "Great," Amtrak smiled, handing me a list of four names, "try to get these guys to show up, too."

            I retired to my room and immediately started on the assignment.  The first name on the list was Cap'n Kirk, which was convenient because I was going to start with him anyway.

Dear Mr. Cap'n Kirk, sir,

                        This Saturday, a banquet will be held in your honor by the National Association for the Advancement of William Shatner Fans (NAAWSF).  This award is in recognition of your tremendous contributions over the past year, namely the purchase of more albums than any other individual - three.  We look forward to your presence at this event, and to your riveting acceptance speech.  We may even give you a trophy - money permitting.

Live long and prosper,

Leonard Nimoy

(NAAWSF Chairman & Founder)

            I was satisfied and sent the message.  The second name on the list was one unfamiliar to me, so I returned to Amtrak's room to clarify the misprint.  He was holding a fire extinguisher this time.

            "Who, in the blue hell, is Skittles?" I demanded.

            "Skittles ... you've known him for, like, six years."  Amtrak held his hand parallel to the ground, some three feet high, "He's about this tall - Italian - goatee?"  He studied me for a moment, waiting for a sign of recognition that never came.  "You have, literally, made fun of him in everything you've written - like Tiny Dancer or the De Niro montage..."

            I nodded my agreement, "Those are characters that I created, yes."

            "No," he snapped incredulously, "They are Skittles!"  We stood in silence until Amtrak realized that his descriptions were futile.  "Nothing, really?  Wow."  He paused a moment, "Forget it, just send the damn email."

            Back in my room, I wrote:

Dear Bastardization of the Mars Candy Corporation,

            There will be a staff meeting this Saturday, to discuss your subpar performance within the Team-TCP organization.  Attendance is mandatory!  If you do not attend, I will be forced to unleash the fullest expanses of my wrath - some crazy shit that you don't even want to think about!  I assure you, I have connections to the Italian mafia.  Test me, I dare you.

Sincerely,

Amtrak

            The third name on my list was Rocky.  I was baffled as to why I had to send an email to myself, but decided that, come Saturday, I'd probably need convincing (That's foresight, future employers - it's a strong quality).

My Dearest Friend,

            This Saturday, a banquet will be held in my honor as recognition for my contributions to the NAAWSF.  I would be grateful if you, my best and most loyal companion, would not only attend but be the one to introduce me.  There will be pizza and Pepsi, so bring your appetite.

Thanks again,

Cap'n Kirk

            The last name on the list was SnideAugustine - a man I knew by sight, but to whom I had never spoken.  I desired to expand our friendship, maybe even to the point of brotherly love, but there always seemed some barrier preventing that fraternal growth - for example, his moving to another state, or me kidnapping and killing his pet cat, or my refusal to call him by his actual name. 

Dear Jabber,

            If you ever want to see Mittens alive again, be at the Team-TCP staff meeting this Saturday.  Don't fuck with me, man, I will cut you!

Love,

Rocky

            I reclined in my seat and admired a job well done - all I had left to do was wait.  Within ten minutes, I had RSVPs from every person to which I had sent a message.  I returned to Amtrak's bedroom, and gloated.

The following are the minutes from the Team-TCP staff meeting, as taken by intern Shaggy.  These events happened between 10:30 am and 12:00 pm, at a Big Boy restaurant located on the corner of Stadium Dr. and Drake Rd. 

            10:30 am - Amtrak and Snide arrived a half hour early, to reserve a table before it was too late.  "What did he say?"  The waitress motioned to Snide, who was babbling incessantly about his mittens.

            "Just ignore him," Amtrak replied.  "Could we get a table for five, please?"

            10:46 am - A black sedan entered the parking lot and Skittles emerged from the backseat, dressed in an Italian suit and with a fur coat draped around his shoulders.  He was flanked on either side by two monstrous bodyguards.  The entire restaurant went quiet upon his entry, consumed by fear.

            "Skittles," Amtrak greeted him, "it's good to see you again."  He went to shake Skittles' hand, but was intercepted by one of the guards.

            "You will address the Don as Godfather," the guard commanded.  Amtrak bowed and kissed Skittles' ring.

            10:57 am - "The champ is here," Cap'n Kirk cried as he made a flamboyant entrance to the sound of his own cheering.  He brought half-a-fifth of El Toro tequila with him, from which he removed the tiny sombrero and duct taped it to his head.  He was also missing a shoe.

            "Hey, guys, thanks for showing up," he acknowledged, sitting at the head of the table.  He began to visually trace the room, then grabbed a nearby salt shaker, "Is this my trophy?"

            11:00 am - "I guess we're all here," Amtrak announced, drawing the attention of everyone at the table.  "I'd like to welcome all of you to the first ever staff meeting of Tea--"

            "The fuck!"  All throughout the restaurant, mothers covered the ears of their children as Cap'n Kirk's voice echoed from one wall to the next.

            "Cap'n," Amtrak hissed, "shut up!"

            Kirk growled, then took a swig of tequila.

            11:12 am - A young man, dressed in a business suit covered in blood, approached the table.  He introduced himself as Sonny, then requested a moment of Skittles' time.  "Mr. Blue has been hurt," he whispered, "and our problem is, well, no longer a problem."

            Skittles responded with a satisfied nod, then handed Sonny a manilla envelope.

            "Thank you, sir," Sonny said and took his leave.

            11:15 am - "Holy hell," Amtrak exclaimed after a massive explosion shook the building.  Customers and staff alike scrambled around the room, searching for a premium spot at the windows to see Sonny's car fall from the heavens and return to its parking spot, upside down.

            The only person who didn't move was Skittles.  He remained stolidly in his seat, cleaning his rings.

            11:24 am - Rocky sauntered through the doors, more concerned with the chaotic scene outside than his personal safety, and walked into a wall.  "Hey," he shouted across the building, pointing to a window, "there is shit and snot and cops and all kinds of crap going on outside!  Y'all should check it out!"

            "You're late," Amtrak confronted him before he could reach the table.

            "Thought we were starting at eleven-thirty."

            "No, we started at eleven."

            "I've heard it both ways," Rocky claimed, gazing passed Amtrak to Cap'n Kirk, who sat, fuming, at the head of the table.  "Oh my god, it's Cap'n-freakin'-Kirk," he yelled, running toward the table with his arms wide open.  Rocky stopped short, however, upon spotting Skittles in his peripheral vision.  "Holy shit," he screeched, reeling around and sprinting toward the exit, "my characters are coming to life!"

            "Son of a bitch," Snide growled, lunging across the table and chasing after Rocky, whilst screaming, "I will murder you!"

            11:30 am - "Screw this noise!"  Cap'n Kirk took another swig of El Toro, then stumbled to the front of the building.  He pushed the cashier from her post and stood atop the counter.  "Attention," he yelled, "it's time for my speech!"  He pulled a sheet of paper from under his sombrero and began reading:

            "Ostensibly, freedom for African-Americans came with the end of the Civil War in 1865, but the struggle to attain equality--"

            "Are you reading The Autobiography of Malcolm X?" Amtrak called.

            Kirk wrenched off his remaining shoe and chucked it in Amtrak's direction.  "Don't interrupt my fuckin' speech!"

            11:37 am - Skittles leaned over and motioned for Amtrak to come closer.  "This connection, that you claim, to the Italian mafia," he whispered, "may I ask you to clarify it?"

            Amtrak chuckled uncomfortably.  "I don't have any connection to the Italian mob."

            "I see," Skittles nodded, "I'm not a man who responds pleasantly to threats."

            "Pardon--"

            Skittles' henchman pulled a dark, nylon sack over Amtrak's head, then grabbed him by the arms and dragged him from the building.

            11:44 am - "And that's why I got rejected from the Peace Corps," Cap'n Kirk concluded.  He remained silent as the henchman returned, without Amtrak, and reclaimed their positions aside Skittles.  "I just gotta say," the Cap'n confessed drunkenly, "that I have almost crapped myself, like, six times since I got here."  He pointed an unsteady finger in Skittles' direction, "You, sir, are a terrifying, terrifying person."

            Kirk remained on the counter for five minutes, wavering slightly and looking nauseous.  "I gotta go," he yelled, then raced into the bathroom.

            12:00 pm - "You didn't see nothing," Skittles decreed, slipping Shaggy a twenty dollar bill.  Then he stood tall, gazed around the restaurant, and nonchalantly declared, "Good meeting."