A charming dinner party is being held and among the guests are Ernest Hemingway, Kurt Vonnegut, Jean-Paul Sartre, Philip K Dick, Shirley Jackson, Stanley Kubrick and Michelangelo.  Michelangelo sits at the head of a very large dining table, while the others are all on the other end, because of the palpable odor coming from him.

Jackson: {eyes frantically searching the room} Is there a fire exit?

Hemingway: Yes, is there? The last dinner party I attended, ended in a fire, causing me to miss dessert.

Server: {points to a window}

Michelangelo: This pheasant is rancid and has a foul smell.

Sartre: {wearing a scowl worthy of any Frenchman} The stench is coming from you I’m afraid. I agree with your unwillingness to bathe, because it’s your true essence; however, my nose is of an entirely different opinion.

Kubrick: {to the server} My dear boy, don’t just come shuffling in like you’ve been drinking in a Wild West saloon all day. Walk slowly and allow the back-lighting to create a silhouette. The camera will be only on the silhouette, so the audience can see there is someone here serving, without actually seeing someone serving.

Server: What audience?

Dick: They’re over there. {points to a stuffed squirrel on the mantle piece}

Vonnegut:

 

Jackson: We are all going to die in some horrific fashion and our story will be required reading for goth middle school students.

Sartre: {smoking two cigarettes} If we die, it will be because of our choice to come here and not by any transcendent force. It’s all in my book titled, Abstruse Conjectures of the Bourgeoisie … ending with a silent, “t.”

Michelangelo: I will sculpt everyone after dinner and give you all a tiny flaccid penis.

Hemingway: I have a large penis. Why else do you think I would hunt, bull fight and punch anyone critical of my work?

Kubrick: {moving Jackson’s plate}

Jackson: What are you doing? I had my tarot cards there and I was just about to put down the card of a man dancing, while holding a puppy eating ice cream. It’s the card of death!

Kubrick: It is all necessary for the diegesis of the film. I have full artistic control and if you don’t like it, you can complain to the studio.

Michelangelo {contently basking in his own squalor}

Dick: I think someone followed me here.

Server: Would you like more wine?

Sartre: {slaps server} Don’t interrupt me in the middle of an existential crisis! I will have more wine though.

Jackson: {to the server} You didn’t offer that homeless man at the end of the table any wine.

Dick: I was once abducted by some hipster aliens, who had a penchant for cycling and ironic clothing. They also probed me.

Hemingway: I have a large penis.

Kubrick: {disgusted with the server and his complete lack of composition, pushes him into a broom closet and takes over serving} I need some epic music for my thirty minute title sequence.

Michaelangelo’s aroma has permeated beyond the dining room and has attracted a Grizzly bear and several other forest creatures. Everyone scatters, except for Dick, who thinks the hipster aliens have returned and Hemingway, who gets the bear in a full nelson.

Vonnegut: “So it goes.”