Seriously, every week's reunion planning meeting is a new adventure with Ben Penick hanging around. This week... well, here goes.
[AT BRAD'S HOUSE]
BEN: So, Clint Hardy lives by you, Brad?
BRAD: Yeah, right across the street.
BEN: Oh, man! I totally remember him. Is he coming?
BRAD: He's not registered. Do your thing, Ben.
BEN: Wow, I'm totally going over there. Not even joking, I'm gonna knock on his door, shake that man's hand and personally harass, er, I mean, invite him to come.
(Ben leaves, and the business of reunion planning commences. Ben comes flying back into the house about eight seconds later.)
BEN: Not home. Hey, you guys have some really freaky mosquitoes out here.
BRAD: OK, so when are we picking up the...
BEN: ACK! Does Clint drive a big, black truck? Tell me he drives a big, black truck, cuz one just pulled up.
(Brad's about to answer in the affirmative, but Ben is already diving for the door again. Somehow, Ben loses all sense of social restraint when he starts palling around with old high school buddies.)
[AT CLINT'S DOORSTEP]
BEN: *Rings doorbell* Freak! That bugger really got me good. *Swats at a mosquito on his leg, leaving a nice splat of blood on his calf.*
(Clint opens the door.)
BEN: Hey. HEY! Long time, so see buddy!
(Ben goes to give Clint a hug, but the latter retracts and raises the pepper spray on his keychain to Ben's eye level.)
CLINT: Who are you?
BEN: It's Ben. Ben Penick. I went to high school with you.
(Clint takes a moment to let it marinate. He nods his head.)
CLINT: OK, yeah. You've gotten pretty big, Ben.
(Ben interprets this to mean Clint thinks he's fat, but Clint just doesn't remember Ben being, like, nine feet tall. Ben is silently offended, but he has a job to do.)
BEN: Yeah, well, your face is weird. Anyway, you coming to the reunion?
CLINT: Whoa, what? What'd you say?
BEN: The reunion, you coming?
CLINT: No, no, about the fa...
BEN: Cuz seriously, if you don't come, I know where you live now, y'know.
(Clint goes back for the pepper spray.)
CLINT: Look, I vaguely remember you, and you come to my door and threaten me, and...
BEN: Look tough guy, you coming or not? Do I need to get crazy on that face of yours?
(Clint hollers at his wife to check on the baby, then starts to shut the door. Ben stops it from shutting by inserting his foot in the threshold.)
BEN: Hey, you just need to go to the reunion blog, OK? The address is www....
(Clint stops him mid-sentence with a mini-spritz to the eye. Ben yelps and stumbles backward while grabbing his eyes. He'd be more worried about the fact that he can't see except he now has exactly 4,218 mosquitoes vying for an open fleshy spot on his body. He runs back to Brad's house, whimpering and crying. He flings open the door and plops himself back in his seat. The rest of the committee is a collective deer to Ben's headlight. Not only are his eyes red and bugging out of his skull, but every exposed piece of flesh is swollen about four-fold. Ben looks like a blowfish on the graveyard shift.)
BEN: So, I don't think he's coming. I'm gonna call Scott Strobell.
(Ben sends a text message to Scott that reads: "Hey, you coming to the reunion?" Several minutes go by, then this from Scott: "Who's this?" Ben replies: "That's it, I'm coming to your house, Scott." With that, Ben bolts out the door again. The committee takes a minute to shake it off.))
BRAD: So, we agree that we need two people doing check-in, right?