Grid Effect

Part six, hopefully we can squeeze it all in here, if not, then expect the final installment tomorrow morning, that’s assuming anyone is still reading this blog (or ever was). Again, this is entirely, 100% fictional. There is absolutely no truth to any of this, and it is strictly for comedic purposes. Find the other parts to this saga, here.

While at a private booth with multiple women, Ebersol, Costas & Silverman bask in the drunken privilege that NBC has afforded them.

Costas: This is turning into a splendid evening, Mr. Ebersol. I’d like to thank you for inviting us.

Ebersol: My pleasure, Bob.

Costas: Furthermore, I’d just like to add that should we successfully engage in a sexual encounter with one of thes-

Ebersol: Jesus fucking Christ Bob would you stop being so fucking formal all the time. This isn’t a purity ball.

Silverman: Riotous Laughter

Costas: No problem, uh, man.

Ebersol remembers what his initial plans were for NBC, turns on audio/video recorder

Ebersol (To Silverman): So, like, what’s the plan here, Ben?

Silverman: The plan? The plan for what, Dick?

Ebersol: You know, do we pay these girls? Or what is it that the kids do nowadays?

Silverman (bemused): These girls? No, we don’t have to pay them. We’re paying them right now.

Ebersol: I see. So, at our whim, they’re willing to go upstairs?

Silverman: Well, not at our whim. They’re not hookers and we don’t own them. But with very little effort, they will willingly do so.

Ebersol: That tall one seems to be taking a liking to Bob.

Silverman: That’s Julie, she has a dwarfism fetish…Not that he’s a dwarf, but she’s so tall that to sweat the details would be splitting hairs.

Ebersol: Good point. And I doubt he’ll care anyways. I doubt he even remembers he is married right now.

Silverman: So what do you care, anyways? I always heard you steered clear of infidelity.

Costas: Look, look at this! I’ll chug this entire red bull vodka, without stopping even once.

Proceeds to drink very slowly

Ebersol: I’m asking for Bob’s sake.

Silverman: Right… (Directs attention towards group) Anyone else want to go back up to the room, we’ve got a couple bottles on ice and this music is intolerable.

Everyone agrees because everyone else agreed

Costas: (Finishes chugging drink) Fucking done. You see that Dick, huh? You see that? Is that fucking informal enough for you? Huh, Dick?

Ebersol responds with a flummoxed look of curiosity.

Silverman: Easy Bob. We’re heading upstairs you coming with?

Costas flashes look over to Julie

Costas: Of course, Ben.

Silverman: (Directed towards Ebersol) How about you?

Ebersol: I’m sorry, I might be catatonic after that little display. But, uh, no, I’m going to play a little blackjack. I’ll catch up with ya’ll later.

Two hours pass before Ebersol goes back up to the room to find Silverman, Costas & the three women naked on the bed in the main bedroom.

Ebersol: Holy shit!

Costas: Look at this Mr. Ebersol. (Runs face across two of the womens chest’s) That is four tits, Dick. Four tits.

Ebersol: Great, Bob.

Silverman: (Taking one of the women doggystyle) Hey, look who’s back. You have any luck at the table?

Ebersol: I’m down a couple hundred.

Silverman: That’s a shame, you want to take out some of your frustrations over here. I’m sure no one will mind.

Ebersol: No, no, it’s way past my bedtime.

Silverman: Yeah, you should get some rest for this meeting we’re going to have in the next ohhhh, four hours.

Ebersol heads off to bed and looks at the recorder he completely forgot he was wearing. Contemplates the ramifications of said recorder before going to bed.

The following morning Ebersol arises to find Silverman already awake

Silverman: Good morning Dick. I’m not going to lie, I feel like I was hit by a truck. But let’s get this show on the road. Hey, what’s that in your hand?

Ebersol: (Holding recorder in hand) We need to talk…

Our seventh and final post later tomorrow. We’ll never be happier than when we finish this thing.