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GEORGE IS STARING OUT THE OPEN WINDOW OF JERRY’S APARTMENT.
GEORGE: Incredible.
JERRY COMES OUT OF THE BATHROOM AND SEES GEORGE LOOKING OUTSIDE. HE RUNS OVER AND SHUTS THE WINDOW.
JERRY: What are you, crazy? We’re supposed to keep the windows closed!
GEORGE IS GIDDY.
GEORGE: Jerry, this is perfect!
JERRY GOES TO GET SOME CEREAL.
JERRY: I don’t know, it kinda feels like the end of the world. Are we looking at the same sky?
GEORGE: It’s the best day of my life.
JERRY: Right. We are not looking at the same sky.
GEORGE: I was supposed to go back to the office this week. They were finally putting an end to remote work. Completely clamping down on it. Well… not anymore! Can’t go to work. Can’t go anywhere in this.
JERRY: You came here though.
GEORGE: Yeah, so?
JERRY: So you just as well could’ve gone to the office, instead. That’s indoors too, isn’t it?
GEORGE: Stop hole-poking.
JERRY: I’m not hole-poking.
GEORGE: You’re poking holes, Jerry. You’re poking holes! I have enough holes already, I don’t need any more holes.
JERRY WAVES HIM OFF AND STARTS EATING HIS CEREAL. JUST THEN, ELAINE ENTERS THE APARTMENT.
ELAINE: Best. Day. Ever.
GEORGE: I know, right?
JERRY: Why is everyone in such a good mood about this?
ELAINE POINTS AT GEORGE.
ELAINE: Wait, why is he in a good mood?
ELAINE TAKES A BITE OF JERRY’S CEREAL.
JERRY: He doesn’t have to go into work.
ELAINE (TO GEORGE): Well, you came here, didn’t you?
GEORGE: Holes! Enough holes!
ELAINE BRUSHES THIS OFF AND TURNS TO JERRY.
ELAINE: Anyway, you know how Puddy asked me to stop smoking cigars?
JERRY: Yeah, he hates it.
ELAINE: Right. But now there’s no way he’ll know about it. Because of all the smoke. It’s perfect!
ELAINE TAKES OUT A CIGAR
ELAINE (CONT’D): Hey, you got a lighter?
JERRY: Yeah, here.
JERRY GRABS A LIGHTER FROM A DRAWER AND HANDS IT TO ELAINE. SHE WALKS OVER TO THE WINDOW, OPENING IT UP SO SHE CAN SMOKE OUT OF IT.
JERRY (CONT’D): Close that!
JERRY RUNS OVER AND CLOSES THE WINDOW.
ELAINE: How come?
JERRY: We’re not supposed to open the windows! And besides, you know those are two different kinds of smoke, right?
ELAINE: What’s that?
JERRY: The smoke outside isn’t the same as cigar smoke. We’re not being invaded by a giant cigar. It’s wood smoke, from the wildfires. They don’t smell anything alike. Puddy’s gonna know.
ELAINE: You’re a hole-poker, you know that?
ELAINE POKES JERRY IN THE CHEST TWICE WITH THE CIGAR.
ELAINE (CONT’D): Hole. Poker.
KRAMER BURSTS IN, AN ORANGE CLOUD OF SMOKE DISSIPATING BEHIND HIM IN THE HALL.
KRAMER: Particulates, Jerry! Fine particulates!
KRAMER POWER-WALKS TO THE WINDOW, OPENS IT, AND STICKS HIS HEAD OUTSIDE.
JERRY: Kramer, what the hell are you doing?!
JERRY PULLS KRAMER BACK INSIDE AND SHUTS THE WINDOW.
JERRY (CONT’D): Why does everyone keep opening the window?
KRAMER: I need air, Jerry! I need air!
JERRY: Not that air, you don’t!
KRAMER: What air can I have, Jerry? Where’s the air?
JERRY: The air in here is perfectly fine. I’ve never had anyone complain about my air before.
KRAMER: The air in my apartment is bright orange, Jerry! It’s not supposed to be bright orange. I asked!
ELAINE: You asked? What does that mean?
KRAMER: My Alexa. I asked her if it’s supposed to be orange in my apartment.
GEORGE (TO HIMSELF): God, I’m gonna get fired.
JERRY: George, you’re not gonna get fired. Kramer, are your windows open?
KRAMER: Of course they are, you’re not supposed to be in an unventilated space with one hundred pounds of dry ice.
GEORGE (TO HIMSELF): I’m gonna get the boot. I could’ve just gone in! I’m done for. I’m kaput.
ELAINE: Why on Earth do you have one hundred pounds of dry ice?
KRAMER: That’s not important.
JERRY: Look, you can stay in here, but you can’t open any windows.
KRAMER GOES IN FOR A HANDSHAKE.
KRAMER: Deal.
GEORGE (TO HIMSELF): I’m panicking. I’m having a panic attack. I need air.
KRAMER NOTICES ELAINE’S CIGAR.
KRAMER (CONT’D): Hey, where can a guy get one of those?
KRAMER REACHES FOR THE CIGAR.
ELAINE: Oh no you don’t!
KRAMER AND ELAINE SCUFFLE. THE CIGAR IS KNOCKED OUT OF HER HAND AND FLIES TOWARD THE WINDOW, WHICH GEORGE HAS OPENED. THEY ALL WATCH AS THE CIGAR FLIES OUT THE WINDOW. FREEZE-FRAME. FIN.
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My upcoming collection of satirical essays called This Won’t Help: Modest Proposals for a More Enjoyable Apocalypse hist shelves out October 24. You can pre-order it wherever books are sold!
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That’s all for today. Thanks, as always, for reading and supporting this newsletter. Pay attention to your air quality, stay indoors if you need to, and I’ll see you right here next week—or this Sunday if you decide to…
The Wildfire Smoke Episode of Seinfeld
"best. day. ever."
So, so good