[EP1] Who Forgot the Rent
Turns out desire doesn't cover utilities
[Scene opens with the projector screen humming softly. Trevor, pale but composed, sits in a neatly fluffed armchair wrapped in a cashmere blanket that was definitely not approved by Dion but no one has dared swap it out. Simon, the plant, sits nearby, visibly perkier.]
Trevor: Thank you all for coming. I’m not yet at full operational capacity, but I am trending upward. [Clicks remote] As you can see from this chart, the y-axis represents my overall wellness. Note the steep incline from Tuesday through Thursday, which correlates directly with soup intake and reduced exposure to Dion.
Dion: [from the velvet couch, mid-stretch] You’re welcome.
Trevor: Now. Onto the matter at hand. Who—
Cyril: Why wasn’t the rent on AutoPay?
Trevor: [flashes next slide labeled "Points of Administrative Breakdown"] That was... supposed to be me. I assigned it to myself during last month’s housekeeping sync. But as you are all aware, I was bedridden.
Dion: Tragic. And yet I still moisturized.
Lenny: [appears from the shadows without explanation] AutoPay is a scam designed to extract marginal fees and late penalties from inattentive tenants. All bills must be manually verified. I have data.
Kurt: I hate fat cats. [smacks fist into palm] Next thing they’ll be charging us to breathe our own sweat.
Nels: [softly, from his meditation pillow] Our divine equity must always out-balance our earthly possessions.
Casper: Okay but did anyone actually pay it or are we just quoting abstract poetry at capitalism again?
Artie: [from the corner, holding a teacup with two hands] I could maybe... trade a painting for partial rent?
Trevor: Absolutely not.
Dion: Look, you can’t expect a man sculpted like this to concern himself with things like “rent.” I am a mood, not a mortgage.
Cyril: [pinching the bridge of his nose] Fine. I’ll pay it. Again.
Lenny: I’ve calculated that we just wasted fourteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds debating this. That’s enough time to fully defrost a chicken or spiral into existential dread. Both of which we’ve also done this week.
Trevor: [sighs] Cyril, you are now our designated backup rent-delegate. Should I ever fall ill again, it’s yours.
Cyril: [already transferring funds] I’ve added it to the master task board.
Dion: [sipping wine that no one saw him pour] To systems failing and beauty prevailing.
Everyone: [groans]
[Scene fades with the sound of Nels humming and someone, probably Kurt, punching a wall in cathartic solidarity. Trevor adjusts Simon slightly toward the light. Order is—tentatively—restored.]
End Session.