The Making Of

(This entry is dedicated to those of you who sometimes worry about me. You know who you are.)

MALE ANNOUNCER: . . . And tonight we take you behind the scenes to the myth, the magic . . . Romie's Typical Internal Thought Processes.

[FADE IN on ID, EGO, and SUPEREGO sitting around a POKER TABLE, drinking COFFEES of varying strengths. Id and Superego are staring each other down with seething expressions.]

EGO: So, is there an issue here?

[ID and SUPEREGO stare each other down.]

EGO: Because if there is, I think we should talk about it.

[ID and SUPEREGO stare each other down.]

EGO: I mean, we're all friends, and I'm sure we can work things out in a mature and rational manner. We do control the same organism after all.

[ID and SUPEREGO stare each other down. ID's eyebrow twitches.]

EGO: Okay then.

SUPEREGO: (exploding) It's morally wrong, and I won't stand by it!

ID: (calmly) But it's what we want.

SUPEREGO: People could get hurt!

ID: What people?

SUPEREGO: People!

ID: Like who?

SUPEREGO: People who we like.

ID: (smugly) You can't think of anyone. I expected as much.

SUPEREGO: (imperiously) What about [person]?

ID: Oh. Damn. How much do we really like them?

SUPEREGO: (ticking points off on her fingers) And [person] and [person] and [person].

ID: I think you're missing out on the point that this is something we want.

SUPEREGO: (righteously enraged) Want this, you self-centered motherfucker!

[SUPEREGO leaps across the TABLE at ID, scattering COFFEE CUPS with windmilling punches. ID socks her in the face.]

ID: (taunting) Who's the moral compass now?

[ID and SUPEREGO fall to the floor, biting and kicking, until EGO manages to pull them apart.]

EGO: I think there's only one way to solve this.

[ID and SUPEREGO breathe heavily, waiting for an opening. EGO stares them down until they nod their aquiescence.]

EGO: Utility Theory.

SUPEREGO: (groans)

ID: Jesus, not that again.

EGO: Shut up. This is important. Now: how many utils would you say correspond to each option?

[SUPEREGO buries her head in her hands while ID repeatedly slams his forehead against the TABLE.]

EGO: (a little desperately) Come on, guys. Utils?

[ID holds up a GREEN SOCK PUPPET labeled "LIBIDO".]

LIBIDO: How can you put a value on the root of all creativity?

SUPEREGO: Or friendship! And honor!

EGO: (whining openly) Guyyyyyyys. . .

ID: Look, you can side with me and get what you want. . .

SUPEREGO: Or you can side with me and be a good person and not be guilt-ridden for the rest of your days.

EGO: Fuck. I think I'll descend into a pit of angst, punctuated occasionally with periods of intense brooding.

[EGO decends into a PIT of ANGST, punctuated occasionally with periods of intense BROODING.]

[Several days pass. EGO's head snaps up, eyes narrowing.]

EGO: Wait a second. I don't have any morals. How can you even exist?

SUPEREGO: Goddamnit.

[SUPEREGO slumps over in defeat. ID and EGO walk out arm and arm, casually flipping the bird to SUPEREGO.]

ID: Kid, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

EGO: And how. There's just one thing I don't understand about all this.

ID: What's that?

EGO: How can someone prefer tuna casserole to braised tillapia?

ID: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio.