Pranks In the Time of Plague

Clever Adolescent Panda (CAP): *Standing in front of the oven in Calvin's apartment* I'm still not sure we should be doing this now. Maybe we should postpone.

Calvin: *leaning against the breakfast bar, staring at his front door* What are you worried about? Can pandas even get coronaviruses?

CAP: We are vulnerable to some varieties that affect canines, yes.

Calvin: Oh.

CAP: Yeah.

Calvin: But there's no definitive proof this one is even dangerous to dogs, right? And, I haven't shown any signs, or been around hardly any people. And, you pandas have a healthcare system that isn't completely fucked, right?

CAP: . . .

Calvin: Right?

CAP: . . .

Calvin: Look, I need this levity now. Did you see what that hailstorm did to my windshield. It looks like Valhalla out there.

CAP: *confused look*

Calvin: That really big, bulls-eye crater on Jupiter's moon, Callisto?

CAP: Oh, right. I get it. Why didn't you just say impact crater?

Calvin: It sounds cooler the way I said it. Now, are you in?

CAP: *sighs* OK, fine. How am I the more mature one?

Calvin: Because it's your turn. I was the mature one last time.

CAP: That doesn't sound right. Are you sure Pollock will even show?

Calvin: How could she not? We threw her a birthday party last year and everything! She has to reciprocate!

CAP: I feel like she'll take the opposite approach from you, and self-quarantine religiously.

Calvin: Leaving her company rudderless? Ha! There's no way she'll slack off and risk it falling apart again. She might have sent all her employees home with full pay for the duration, but she's almost certainly still there, trying to keep it afloat.

CAP: That sounds about right. But that means there's no way she's gonna come all the way here.

Calvin: *wags his finger* You forget, my lovably huggable friend, she's a far more social person than I. Distancing is undoubtedly taking its toll. She'll jump at the chance to interact with other people.

CAP: *skeptical* Even us?

Calvin: Especially us! We're people she can punch! Those are her favorite kind of people, after people she can bilk money out of!

CAP: I think they're called investors.

Calvin: Pfft. That's just what you tell them so they don't know they're rubes.

*There's a knock at the door.*

CAP: They aren't ready yet, you have to stall!

Calvin: You want me to play host?

CAP: Or let her punch you for a while.

*Calvin opens the door.*

Calvin: Dustin Hoffman from Outbreak! What a honor!

Pollock: Oh very good. That reference is only what, 25 years out of date?

*Pollock awkwardly makes her way into the room in a full biohazard suit. Calvin cranes his neck into the hallway, searching. Stepping back inside, he grabs Pollock on either side of her head and starts trying to peer inside the suit. Pollock punches him in the face.*

Pollock: What the hell were you doing?

CAP: Hi Pollock!

Pollock: Greetings, accursed furball.

Calvin: *rubbing his nose* Geez, I was just trying to see if Cassanee had wedged herself in there with you.

Pollock: Of course not! That would defeat the purpose of the suit!

CAP: I kinda don't think Cassanee would care about that.

Calvin: Exactly.

Pollock: No, the sullen girl went home several weeks ago. She was homesick, or there was some kind of emergency or something.

CAP: The Amilgars? Or did Guyamo come back?

Calvin: Please no faceless guys with chainsaws.

Pollock: She didn't say, and I didn't ask. Because I don't care.

CAP: You jerk! Calvin! *tosses him a pie fresh from the oven*

Calvin: Wait a minute, I'm not wearing glov-ahaaaah!

*Calvin awkwardly hurls the pie at Pollock. It splatters harmlessly against the facemask of her suit, slowly sliding down it, until it lands on the carpet.*

Pollock: *unperturbed* That was your brilliant plan for this year?

CAP: We had to make the pie gag work one of these years.

Calvin: But now that we have, it was distinctly unsatisfying.

CAP: Pollock could take the suit off and we could try again.

Pollock: Why would I do that?

Calvin: Because don't those kinds of suits only have a limited air supply? Like, 30 minutes?

Pollock: *extremely smug* Nice try. I designed this suit with an extensive filtration system, so I can breathe external air in perfect safety.

Calvin: *tilts head skeptically* Really? It can filter out viruses, but you can still get air?

Pollock: *starting to sweat, tries to pull at her collar, but can't reach it through the suit* Yes. It's not - wheeze - about the size of the holes in the filters. There's a minor UV projector - gasp - inside that eradicates - why is it so stuffy in this thing?

CAP: Looks like the blueberry filling is clogging the filter.

*Pollock tries to clear the delicious pie out of the filter, but only succeeds in clogging it further, since she has no dexterity inside the suit.* 

Calvin: You need us to get you out of that thing? I'm seen some videos on that in trainings.

Pollock: *shakes head vigorously, continues fumbling to remove the gloves.*

CAP: I think Calvin's right. *Hands Calvin another pie. One that had time to cool first.*

Pollock: *glares daggers at the both of them, until her eyes roll back in her head and she falls over.*

Calvin: Sigh. *sets pie aside* Come on, let's help.

CAP: Calvin, how could you? We have to help - oh wait, you said that.

Calvin: Yeah. Here let's see if we can just pull the helmet off. Hand me my knife.

CAP: I thought I'd have to convince you.

Calvin: I don't want Pollock dead. I just don't want her to kill me, either. *pause* Besides, hitting an unconscious person with a pie is pretty lame.

CAP: What are the odds of her really trying to kill you?

*Together they manage to pull the helmet free of the rest of the suit.*

Calvin: Eh, it took her like 7 years of setbacks until she got fed up and tried to decapitate me that one time. But we haven't destroyed her headquarters since even before that, so I'm probably OK.

*Pollock's fist hits Calvin squarely in the face again.*

Calvin: It's a good thing those gloves are insulated, or that would start to hurt.

Pollock: *wheezing* Clod.

Calvin: All right, she's conscious again. Time to set aside compassion and humanity.

CAP: *hands the pie back to Calvin with a flourish* Your weapon, sir.

Calvin: Ah, thank you, my good panda.

*Calvin throws the pie, Pollock snatches the helmet off the ground and blocks it, although she might have gotten a little splash damage from it.*

Pollock: *laughs triumphantly* What now, you jabbering nitwits?

Calvin: It's cute how she thinks we only had the two pies.

CAP: I know, right? May I do the honors?

Calvin: Oh, I insist. I've had my turns.

CAP: Thank you.

*The panda dashes back into the kitchen. A moment later, they leap on top of the breakfast bar, wielding a bazooka with a pie jammed in the front of it.*

CAP: Get ready for the awesome return of the least expected recurring gag ever, PIE CANNON! And good luck nimbly deflecting this with a kick while you're in that bulky hazmat suit!

Pollock: Oh dear. Let's not be hasty.

Calvin: Hold it! Pollock's right.

Pollock: I am?

CAP: She is?

Calvin: Absolutely. *Slides open the screen door leading onto the balcony.* Now she won't damage it on her way out.

Pollock: You swine.

CAP: Good call. Fire in the hole!

*The pie erupts from the bazooka, hitting Pollock squarely in the chest, sending her flying out the open door and over the railing into the parking lot. Before she can slam painfully into her rental car, her hazmat suit inflates. So instead, she bounces off the rear bumper and soars into the sky.*

Pollock: *voice getting fainter* I'll get you morons for thissssssss. *disappears into the distance, while CAP and Calvin watch*

CAP: Huh. I should have expected her to have additional security features.

Calvin: *confused* Why would she have expected to get into high speed collisions in that getup?

CAP: *Shrugs* I dunno. Maybe she thought someone would try running her over?

Calvin: Seems a little brutal for either of us, and too impersonal for Cass.

CAP: Rhodez?

Calvin: Can't see there being a grudge there, but maybe. Anyway, I think that went pretty well. At least we won't have to hear her moan about her rental car this time.

CAP: Yeah, but she's probably gonna be mad at you when she lands.

Calvin: Me? You shot her with a bazooka pie.

CAP: Because you said to!

Calvin: *gasps in mock-shock* What?! You asked if you could! And I wanted to share the fun, so I said yes.

CAP: But, um, aw fooey.

Calvin: Relax. She'll probably self-quarantine for a solid two weeks since we had to remove part of her fancy suit. As long as you're back home by then, she'll leave you be.