If you missed previous segments of the CMEslinger saga, you can read them here:
And now, our latest segment:
Part 5 (Derek)
An amused smirk played across the man in black’s lips.
“I’ll give you this, CMEslinger, you always were the resilient one. Dumb as a ewe in heat, but resilient.”
The man in black heard the CMEslinger scoff at the other end of the line.
“I admit it took me longer than it should have to figure out your plan. Aunt Betty deserves an Oscar for her performance. But you got a little too clever trying to reuse one of your old proposals. You did a decent job editing out most of your trademark elements, but you couldn’t hide them all. Plus, you just couldn’t resist including two spaces after all the periods and openly mocking me with your blatant disregard of the Oxford comma. You might just as well have written ‘The man in black was here’ at the top of every page. You also forgot that I spent every weekend and summer day from junior high school thru college working at my grandpa Landis’s auto repair shop. It only took me about 15 minutes of tinkering to have the Wrangler humming like new. Now get your butt down here and let’s get to it!”
Cursing Grandpa Landis under his breath, the man in black hung up the phone, slipped his shoes back on, and headed for the elevator. He punched the button for the lobby and calmly waited as the elevator descended.
A minute later, the elevator doors slid open at the lobby level to reveal the CMEslinger standing directly in front of the doors, legs shoulder width apart, arms akimbo, waiting. As the man in black took a step out of the elevator, the two old-friends-now-bitter-rivals surveyed each other from head to toe.
“For Phinneas’s sake,” snorted the CMEslinger. “This is a conference, not a funeral. Would it kill you to lighten up your wardrobe a bit? Maybe work in some navy blue?”
The man in black narrowed his eyes but maintained his usual smirk.
“Very clever, Ralph Lauren. You’ll have to pardon me for not taking sartorial advice from a man in chaps and a neckerchief. Now, are we going to stand around here gabbing about the latest fashion trends or are we going to get to work?”
The CMEslinger didn’t respond immediately, but held the man in black’s gaze.
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Good. Let’s find Marge.”
It had been Phinneas’s idea and it was Phinneas who had made all the arrangements. He had given up all attempts at a reconciliation between his two former protégés and had finally agreed to their request for an ultimate showdown. It was the last thing he did before passing on.
The concept was brilliant in its simplicity. Two competing satellite symposia at the largest medical conference in the world. Whoever has the most attendees at their symposium is the winner. The loser agrees to leave the world of CME forever.
They had both agreed to the rules. And they had both agreed that Marge was in charge.
CMEPALOOZA 
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