Enter a Network reporter
and Father Time. Father Time is a decrepit shell of a human being, wrinkled,
weary, and bitter. They enter a classroom, sit down, and begin the interview.
Reporter: So, Father Time, this is really an honor...
Father Time: Don't even try to get on my good side! You young
brats, you're the reason I didn't receive a decent pension. My idiotic
superiors said that it "wasn't a very good year" and "the youth
want a fresh look." Bah! I'll give you a fresh look!
Reporter: Whoa! Easy! Don't give yourself a heart attack old
man. Let's just get started on the interview, okay? So...how old are you?
Father Time: I'm one year old.
Reporter: Are you serious? Man, you don't age well at all.
Father Time: HEY! Listen you little whipper snapper! Not all of
us are Cher and can afford to get every little flab of skin tightened and every
ounce of fat suctioned out of our slowly decaying bodies!!
Reporter: (nervous cough) Uh...well...let's move on. So, what do you think of your replacement...(shuffles
papers) a Miss Babe E. NuYear?
Father Time: That little MISCREANT! That backstabbing,
manipulative, arrogant ...!
Reporter: Stop! Now just hold on a minute, here. What's the
matter with Ms. NuYear?
Father Time: That little corporate slave is the reason I'm out of
the job! If I ever get my hands on her...
Suddenly the door flies
open and a short, chubby baby toddles in. She has a bottle of milk in one hand
and a briefcase in the other. She has a bubble gum cigar dangling out of her
mouth.
Babe: All right Old Timer! I'll have no more of your
slander. We all know that the bosses had more than ample reason to kick you out
of office! Look at your record! Deficit, war, Brittney Spears coming out with a
new CD! This was one of the most atrociously handled years since the sixties.
We need new blood, not someone who still thinks that OS 9 is "neat."
Father time attempts to
rise from his seat menacingly, but instead falls flat on his face.
After about half and
hour, he manages to get up again.
Reporter: Well, now people, let's please keep our heads...
Babe: She's got a good point. You might fall over and
break something...again.
Father Time: Oh, something will break all right!
Huge fight ensues as
Father Time lunges at Babe. Babe throws the bottle at Father Time's
head. Father Time knocks Babe across the room with his cane, causing the Babe
to have a temper tantrum and start wailing. The reporter is now visibly
distressed.
Reporter: Okay, people, let's all just calm down...
Babe: I want my mother you vindictive freak!
Father Time: Your mother! Well, you useless freeloader, your
mother is so dumb that she thought a quarterback was a tax refund!
Babe: Let me make one thing clear, here. It's nobody's
fault but your own that this year fell apart. Let's look at the past 12 months,
shall we? France has become even bitterer towards the U.S., the term "Freedom fries" was coined, and the movie Gigli was made!
I don't even want to touch on the fact that the Backstreet Boys apparently
broke up or the whole Beniffer affair.
Not to mention Buffy the Vampire Slayer going off the air! This whole year was a one of the
biggest disasters in decades! You're lucky we didn't fire you last winter!
Father Time: Hey! You try organizing the mess 2002 left behind! I
had a lot on my plate. Not to mention the fact that three months into the job I
started to get arthritis. Iım tired of the man trying to take my youth and keep
me down!
Babe: Quit whining and get out of here! I have a
tremendous mess to clean up and having your shadow lumbering over me won't
help.
Father Time: Pishaw! I'd like to see you try. You're not even
qualified! The only reason you got this position was because your father had it
a back in the early nineties, and we saw how great he did.
Babe: That's it, you cadaver reject; I will not tolerate
this lack of respect for the representative of 2004 any longer! You'll be
hearing from my lawyers!
Father Time: You won't get away with this. The corporate world
will not continue to use its workers to get rich, then toss them aside like
yesterdayıs trash! This is not the last you've heard of Old 2003!
Father Time storms out of
the room, Babe continues crying, and the reporter sits in a stunned
stupor.
Reporter: At any rate, Ms. NuYear,, what do you think...
Suddenly a loud noise
comes from the hall. The reporter and Babe turn to see what's going on.
Father Time (as coming
from the hall): Ah! My hip! I can't
get up! Darn you NuYear! Ah! My arm! The pain! [Expletive deleted] NuYear! Just
wait until I get a hold of you, you [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted]
[expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] jerk! Incoherent mumbling.
Reporter: I'm out of here. Later.
Babe: I'm going to go take a nap.
All exit except for Father Time who continues to mumble in pain.