INT. TOLARIN COMMUNITY COLLEGE STUDIO — DAY
(Jesse sorts through a depressing mound of bulk commons at a side desk.)
(The kind of bulk that has seen things. Mostly draft nights and regret.)
PROFESSOR (O.S., DISTANT)
Jesse.
JESSE
Prof?
(Jesse pauses, listens, then goes back to sorting like this is normal. Because it is.)
PROFESSOR (O.S., DISTANT)
Jesse!
JESSE
Professor?
PROFESSOR (O.S., DISTANT)
Hey, Jeeeeesse!
JESSE
Are you recording from another room, or are you inside a deck box?
(Jesse opens a drawer stuffed with sleeves, dividers, and "I'll organize this later" energy.)
JESSE
Is this a camera?
(She squints into a pack of sleeves like it might blink back.)
JESSE
Is every product a camera?
(Beat.)
(Jesse does a slow, paranoid scan of the studio. The tripods look guiltier than usual.)
PROFESSOR (O.S., DISTANT)
Jesse, the review desk, Jesse. Come to the review desk!
CUT TO: INT. REVIEW DESK AREA — DAY
(Jesse enters the main set.)
(On the pristine review desk: a BOX CUTTER… and a single, proud PICKLE.)
JESSE
Prof? W-where are you?
PROFESSOR
On my review desk, Jesse.
(Beat.)
JESSE
Are you just invisible and you're gonna, like… critique my sorting method?
PROFESSOR
Flip the pickle over.
JESSE
What, I'm gonna touch it and you're gonna tell me it's a cursed food token proxy or something.
PROFESSOR
Come on, flip the pickle, Jesse. You're not gonna regret it. The payoff is huge.
(Jesse hesitates, then picks up the box cutter like a holy symbol.)
(She nudges the pickle over with the cautious reverence of someone handling a freshly opened collector booster.)
(The pickle has THE PROFESSOR'S FACE on it.)
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
I turned myself into a pickle, Jesse! Boom! Big reveal: I'm a pickle! What do you think about that? I turned myself into a pickle! W-what are you just staring at me for, friend? I turned myself into a pickle, Jesse!
(Jesse stares. The silence is loud enough to pick up on a lav mic.)
JESSE
…and?
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
"And"? What more do you want tacked on to this? I turned myself into a pickle, and Maro is secretly three goblins in a trench coat?
JESSE
Is he?
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Who cares, Jesse? Corporate mismanagement happens every day. Here's something that's never happened before: I'm a pickle. I'M PICKLE PROOOOF!!
JESSE
Is this… the first part of some unboxing video?
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
I don't do unboxings, Jesse, I do product reviews. One takes critical thought. The other takes scissors.
JESSE
Well, can you move? Can you… shuffle?
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
I wouldn't be much of a pickle if I could.
JESSE
All right, well, are pickles on the Reserved List or—
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Jesse, stop digging for hidden value and just be impressed. I'm a pickle.
JESSE
I'm trying to figure out why you would do this. Why anyone would do this.
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
The reason anyone would do this is if they possessed the arcane knowledge—which they don't—and also because they could—which they can't.
(From off-camera: FOOTSTEPS. Two very different vibes enter frame.)
(SPICE8RACK glides in like an art critic who got trapped in a card game. VOXY bounces in like a caffeinated lightning bolt in a hoodie.)
SPICE8RACK
Jesse. We have to get going, or we'll be late for the content meeting. Where is your esteemed professor?
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Right here, Spice! I'm a pickle!
(Spice8Rack freezes mid-glide, like a paused video essay.)
SPICE8RACK
What!?
(Beat.)
SPICE8RACK
Why would you— Look, we're running late. We have a narrative to craft.
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Where are you guys going?
SPICE8RACK
We have a meeting to discuss the fourth Secret Lair Superdrop this month that was set a week ago and agreed upon by everyone.
(Beat.)
SPICE8RACK
Including you.
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Oh my God. Spice, it totally slipped my mind. Geez—oh man—I'm a pickle. I mean, I don't know if I can—ooh, geez—
(Jesse plants her fists on her hips. The camera can practically hear the look she's giving.)
JESSE
Prof. Did you do this on purpose to get out of reviewing more Magic products?
SPICE8RACK
Jesse!
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
It's okay, Spice. I understand Jesse's suspicion. I have been critical of products before. Jesse, turn me so we're making eye contact.
(Jesse rotates the pickle like she's presenting a questionable rare for judge confirmation.)
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Jesse, I assure you, I would never "employ dark magic" to "get out of" my duties as a pillar of the community.
(Beat.)
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
I hope my lack of fingers doesn't prevent the perception of my air quotes.
VOXY
Okay but—like—what the fuck, dude.
(Voxy leans in, squinting at Pickle-Professor like she's reading a board state through lethal combat math.)
VOXY
Can't you just… Swords to Plowshares yourself? Or like… I don't know, Path yourself? Be brave. Exile the pickle.
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Great question, Voxy. The unfortunate answer is I did this to challenge myself.
(Beat.)
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
And it could take hours—or even days—before I'm able to return to human form. But, I mean, you know, your friend could put me in a deck box or a Quiver if you really need me to go.
SPICE8RACK
Nobody needs anything!
(Beat. Spice8Rack inhales like it's about to deliver a thesis.)
SPICE8RACK
It's fine. You should stay here and contemplate the philosophical ramifications of being a pickle.
(Jesse's eyes narrow. Her producer brain boots up like a loading screen.)
JESSE
Hey, Prof… why is there a hard drive full of video files hanging directly over you?
(Beat.)
JESSE
And why is the USB cable running through a pair of scissors taped to a timer?
(Beat.)
JESSE
And why is the timer set to ten minutes from now. Exactly when we would have left for the meeting.
(The pickle does not blink. The pickle cannot blink. But it sure feels like it's sweating.)
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Well, Jesse, if you must know— the hard drive is completely unrelated to this discussion and therefore does not warrant further explanation.
(Spice8Rack calmly reaches up, cuts the hard drive down, and unplugs it with the serenity of someone deleting a draft.)
SPICE8RACK
Enough. Let's go. We have Hasbro's quarterly earnings report to mock.
(Spice8Rack slips the hard drive into their bag like it's a forbidden artifact.)
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
W-w-what are you doing there, Spice? What are you doing there, friend?
SPICE8RACK
Well, you don't want to accidentally upload a forty-minute video rant unrelated to your situation.
(Beat.)
SPICE8RACK
How's that going to help your brand?
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
…Can't argue with that logic.
VOXY
I can argue with it, but I won't. Let's go before Wizards announces Secret Lair: Pickles.
JESSE
Don't give them ideas.
(They start to exit.)
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Hey—hey—be careful with that! It's my review of the new Commander precons! It's really important, so don't delete it!
(The studio door closes. The silence returns. The pickle sits there. Existing.)
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Okay. I may have miscalculated the game state here.
(Beat.)
PROFESSOR (AS PICKLE)
Dup, ap, ap, pap, ut, dah, pap, pap, pap, pah… t-t-tah, tah—
(He clicks his tongue like a man trying to topdeck competence.)
CUT TO BLACK.