Disclaimer: AAny similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
Any mention of 'The Colbert Report', 'Viacom',’MSNBC’, ‘Scarborough Country’, any associated entities, or any copywrited material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copywrited material.
Joe Scarborough was getting ready for the night’s program. The editorial meetings went fine, and he was still a bit steamed about being told to stop manhandling Stephen. He laughed it off, but no one told him what to do. especially an intern. Especially an intern. That show was one of the rare times Stephen didn’t rush home to Evie and the kids, he and Scarborough went up to The Country Grill for a post show post-mortem. During the dinner discussion, Scarborough made a couple of passes that Stephen politely but firmly rejected. The post-mortem ended with the Arch-Duke of Scarborough Country leaving Joe with the bill.
That next night, Stephen dreamed of a snake watching his every move. The snake’s head looked like Scarborough’s with his sparkling, yet suspicious little eyes. No matter where Stephen moved to in the dream, the Joe-snake was there. Watching. Every time Stephen approached the Joe-snake to see what kind it was, the serpent seemed fade into the surroundings. It seemed to mock his attempts to see. By the fifth night, Stephen was afraid to close his eyes. Evie was beginning to worry about his health, while he was worrying about his sanity. Finally succumbing to exhaustion, Stephen fell asleep. This night, the dream went on as usual, but this night, the snake struck. Without warning, the Joe-snake struck, biting Stephen in the Solar Plexus. The pain was excruciating and a moan escaped his lips. He moaned again and with a scream sat bolt upright in the bed.
He went to see his priest, and the good father was of no help. He didn’t deal in dreams, he said. He considered talking to a Chasidic Rabbi, or someone at the Kabballah Center, but just couldn’t bring himself to do so. So, he instead opted for an edutainmental trip to the Chickasaw Nation.
Scarborough this past week slept better he had since the dead aide scandal. The shows were good. and except for the admission that he was a bit too “handsy” when he on appeared on The Colbert Report, things were good. The dinner that night, not so good. Colbert had rejected him. The Power Play ensued. Going into the basement at MSNBC, he unlocked a door and entered into a disused storage room. Removing all metals from his body, he stepped into the circle and lay down on the blanket in the center. Slowing his breath and creating a landscape with him as a snake and Colbert as his mouse-prey, he set about business. It was 2 am. just right. Not even maintenance would disturb him. “Tonight, the fifth night, I take his power. Or I’ll kill him... either way doesn’t matter.”
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