War Room

Meeting Log: 5/6/7
3:00 p.m. – 3:15 p.m.
NSS-CSL IIV
Director D. F. Marshall

“The fact of the matter is just that.”
“A fact, Sir?”
“Yes, a fact. As in indisputable.”
“Is anyone trying to dispute it?”
“Well, no. Not yet anyway. As far as I know.”
“As far as we know.”
“Yes, of course. I’m not trying to cut anybody out here. We’re all in this together.”
“That’s the truth.”
“Exactly, yes.”
“Alright then.”
“Alright.”
“Let’s talk about the facts then.”
“Well, we don’t actually have the facts, Sir.”
“We don’t have them here, you mean.”
“Where are they?”
“They’re in a safe place.”
“Probably.”
“We aren’t actually sure where they are, Sir.”
“But you know they’re somewhere.”
“Yes, of course. That much we know for sure.”
“And safe?”
“Yes. Our intel indicates that they are safe.”
“What is our intel?”
“…”
“The point is, wherever they are, they are facts.”
“Indisputable?”
“Exactly.”
“Let’s go over what we know.”
“The first topping is free. We have solid evidence, Sir.”
“And the second topping?”
“The second topping is half price if you purchase a third topping at full price.”
“What if you only want two toppings?”
“Is that the case, Sir?”
“Just exactly what are we looking at here, Madsen?”
“What we’re looking at is a pizza coupon, which may or may not be expired, that we don’t actually have. Sir”
“Who remembers the coupon?”
“Johnson got a good look at it, Sir.”
“My God. Johnson has just left on assignment.”
“Is there anyway to contact him?”
“No. He’s gone totally dark. We’re on our own here boys.”
“Holy shit.”
“Listen, before we get any more worked up let’s just decide how many toppings we want. We may be able to avoid the issue of the coupon.”
“The thing is, we’re going to need more than one pizza.”
“How many of us are there?”
“This is getting fucked up, I’m losing faith in the mission.”
“Damnit Larkin! We don’t need your negative attitude ruining everything. You totally blew Cuba for me, I’m not about to let you fuck up this pie order.”
“What are you going to do about it Madsen? Blow up another village just to prove a point?”
“Alright, alright. Things are getting out of control. Before we say anything else we’re going to regret, everybody just relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax! I’m losing it here, things are getting sideways.”
“Larkin, as your commanding officer I am ordering you to relax. Is that joint still going? Anybody?”
“Speaking of that Sir, do you think it’s a good idea to smoke marijuana in the war-room? I’ve heard it’s bad for the instruments, Sir.”
“Look, Caldwell, I appreciate your concern for the instruments, but speaking plainly, fuck the instruments. I’m starving to death and we are further away from having this pizza than we were before we even decided we wanted it.”
“Holy shit, Sir. I think you just blew my mind.”
“Mine too, Sir.”
“Maybe we should just sit down on these chairs. Whose idea was it to sit on the table in the first place?”
“It was Johnson, Sir. That’s why you sent him dark.”
“If it was Johnson’s idea, then why the hell did we go along with it?”
“No idea, Sir. I can’t remember that far back.”
“Can we check the log?”
“We could try, Sir. But honestly…”
“You’re probably right. What’s your name?”
“Bailey, Sir.”
“What’s your Christian name?”
“I only have the one name, Sir. It’s all my parents could afford.”
“Bailey’s parents worked very hard, Sir.”
“I’m sure they did. Now look, let’s just retrace our steps and figure out where it was we saw the coupon. Maybe we can get another.”
“I think it was at the Laundromat, Sir.”
“The Laundromat? We didn’t even go to the Laundromat!”
“Didn’t we, Sir? I could have sworn.”
“Goddamnit Madsen, how can I trust you in the field?”
“I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.”
“I can’t handle this right now.”
“Do you want a shoulder massage, Sir?”
“Don’t even ask me that, Madsen! Just do it, for the love of God!”
“Yes Sir.”
“I don’t even care about the coupon anymore. Let’s just order the pizza, if we all chip in we should be fine.”
“Pizzas, Sir. There are too many of us for just one pizza.”
“Pizza is still the plural of pizza. I wasn’t suggesting we order only one pizza, what do you take me for?”
“How many toppings should we get?”
“And how many pizzas?”
“Three, to both questions.”
“Is it okay if I order from the website? I don’t know if I can handle talking to them right now.”
“Sure, if you can figure it out. Remember last time?”
“I’ll just make the call. What toppings should I ask for?”
“Oh my God, Madsen. Just order the goddamn pizza. Improvise. But nothing weird, alright? And get a two-liter of Mountain Dew.”
“They only have Mello-Yello.”
“That’s fine. Better, even.”

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About Eli Hopkins

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