The Slive household, Halloween afternoon. Mike Slive is relaxing in his favorite easy chair, watching The Cartoon Network when he is startled by the sound of a tastefully muted doorbell.
Slive opens the door to find a scampy SPONGELY ORANGEPANTS on the doorstep.
Slive: Why, Derek! It’s a bit early for trick-or-treaters, isn’t it?
Dooley: I know, but mother doesn’t like for me to be out past dark. Says it's sorta dangerous like Shreveport, although I’ve never really been to Shreveport.
Slive: So why the sponge?
Dooley: Because they’re so CLEAN! Not only do they live under the sea, but they are already sponges. Imagine how easy showering must be for them.
Slive: And the orange pants?
Dooley: Oh, they’re my favorites.
Slive: OK, well, I haven’t really put the candy bowl together, but let me go---wait, are those pants wet?
A horn honks loudly from the street. Dooley scampers away, shouting over his shoulder:
Dooley: Gotta go, Mr. Slive…she doesn’t like having to honk twice!
The doorbell interrupts the "Good Eats" popcorn episode Slive always keeps on the DVR.
Slive: [with sympathetic look on his face] Oh.
Joker: I know. Every year.
Slive: Here. [empties nearly entire candy bowl into basketball]
Joker: Thanks. [walks away dejectedly]
7:15 PM sharp
Slive: Well, look, it’s little Nick Sa—
Saban: Let’s not waste time, Slive. You know why I’m here.
Saban: [sighs] I don’t like your process, Mike. It’s incredibly clunky. You know damn well I care nothing for candy from you. I can get all I want from far weaker men. [gestures at wheelbarrow]
Slive: Well, what would you like?
Saban: Five more scholarships per year.
Slive: You know I can’t alter NCAA regulations.
Saban: Not with that loser mentality. [spins on his heel and walks away, texting furiously on his iPhone]
Slive: Hello, Chik-Mull-A Cow.
Slive: Now, you know that’s frowned upon in certain venues, my house included, even on holidays. What do you have to say for yourself?
Mullen: [holds up sign that says "EAT MOR CHI5IK"]
Slive: Yes, well, frankly that’s disgusting. Why don’t you just take some candy and leave?
Mullen: Do you have any cheese?
Slive: [slams door]
Slive: It’s Agent K!
Sumlin: That’s KDS in full. And Agent Rev here [barks dismissively].
Slive: Right. And who’s with you back there?
Sumlin: Oh, that’s just Pinks. [gestures taking a drink] Can you believe we're from the same planet? [offers fistbump]
Slive: Crazy galaxy. How are you tonight?
Sumlin: Oh, I’m damn good. Just erasing bad football memories, one Aggie at a time.
Slive: How are you doing---
A Neuralyzer suddenly appears in Agent KDS’ hand, followed by a briliant FLASH. Slive is stunned momentarily.
Sumlin: Aren’t you forgetting something?
Slive: Oh, right. Have some candy.
Sumlin: Keep your damn candy. Just show a little respect.
Slive: Oh, look, it’s HomoGENE-ized Milk!
Gene: [in a sad whisper] Help me.
Slive: Sure, guy. Take any candy you want.
Gene: Just give me all the chicklets you have in the house.
Slive: I don’t think there are any. Hey…what have you done to my trees?
Gene: I’m not here to argue Arboriculture, Mike. Now, have you seen this guy on the carton? He won’t return my calls.
Slive: Only on TV.
Gene: [sighs mournfully and walks away]
Slive: Why it’s uhh… Richt, what are you supposed to be?
Richt: Huh? I was just in the neighborhood and thought you’d want some peaches. Here!
Slive: Oh, I thought for a minute that was your Halloween costume and you were trick-or-treating.
Richt: No, I don’t really celebrate Pagan rituals. This smock is just incredibly comfortable. Enjoy your peaches!
Slive: Wait, don’t you want some candy?
Richt: [over shoulder] Already brushed my teeth, Mike!
Slive: Well if it isn’t HOT PISS POTATO HEAD!
Smith: SMILE! Okay? SMILE!
Slive: …okay. [forces smile]
Smith: I am from Idaho, did you know this? I get thirteen cents from the Idaho Potato Commission each time I mention that I AM FROM IDAHO. Potatoes make you smile.
Slive: That’s great. Would you like any candy?
Smith: Yes, please. Werther's Original only.
Slive: [rummaging through bowl, pretending to look] I don’t think we seem to have any…
Smith slaps own face and walks away, continuing to slap own face.
A loud crashing noise on roof, followed by a thud near the front door and maniacal laughing. Slive opens the door to find SANTA CLES dusting leaves off of himself.
Les: HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
Slive: Er, Les, it’s Halloween.
Les: Do you need yardwork done, sir?
Slive: Well, no…
Les: Easter eggs.
Les: Easter. Eggs. I like to find Easter Eggs. Did. You. Hide. Any? Easter eggs. [licks lips]
Slive: I didn’t, Les, but the gentleman two houses down has a large pine tree with lots of pine cones in the yard and---
SANTA CLES sprints away
Slive: It’s---what the hell are you supposed to be?
Freeze: They called it AKREBBEAR.
Freeze: The University. They couldn’t decide on one.
Slive: Well…what did you want to be?
Freeze: A high school coach. The students wanted the Star Wars guy, the old people made me carry this bag and all the suits made me wear this hot costume. It smells like vomit. Can I have my candy now?
Slive: Here’s a half a thing of Tic-Tacs. Get out of here.
Slive: Why it’s Frankenchamp! Great costume buddy!
Slive: Would you like some candy?
Slive extends the candy bowl as Frankenchamp woodenly reaches out and grabs a handful of candy, crushing it all as he puts it in his basket, while maintaining the stare.
Slive: OK, well, be careful out there!
Muschamp: [continues to stare as he backs off the porch slowly]
Slive: James! Nice suit, but what are you supposed to be?
Franklin: I’m Ron Burgundy?
Slive: I don’t understand. Are you asking me?
Franklin: Oh, Michael. Michael, Michael, Michael. There are many things you don’t understand about this game.
Slive: Like what?
Franklin: Look at these biceps! Like the flukes of an anchor, I daresay! [begins picking teeth]
Slive: Why are you doing that?
Franklin: Ribs. I’m picking my teeth because I had ribs for lunch. Do you have any?
Slive: Just candy.
Franklin: Okay, then I'm out of here. Tell your wife I said hey. [winks] Stay classy, Michael Slive!
Slive is asleep and is startled by a pounding noise just outside the front door. He arrives in the hallway just in time to see SCOOTER STEVE SPURRIER batter down the front door.
Slive: What the hell do you think you’re doing? What are you even supposed to be?
Spurrier: Aw, unwad your knickers, Slivey. I’m supposed to be sitting on your couch makin’ fun of the trick-or-treaters that stop by, but had a hell of a time getting away. Damn meetings. Say, you still get the Golf Channel?
Spurrier motors past a stunned Slive into living room... cracks beer.