Early in the morning after Blake and co resolved to kidnap Cassidy, Blake, Jo, and Olly, all still in pajamas, are sat in conference at the kitchen table. Olly's has his laptop, and on it is a photo of Mr. Henry Dwight Cassidy, and info about him. “I stayed up all night looking into the man,” says Olly, keeping his voice down, “that’s how bad I have it in for the son of a bitch. There's nothing extreme or dangerous about him. I mean, he's rich and connected, but he lives a normal, regular Joe life. Of course, he doesn't move with security; he's just a program director; nothing extremely important there-”
“But to us,” says Joanna.
“Right. He doesn’t like guns, not a photo of him with a gun, on like a hunting trip, or in a range or something. He has no connection with such. He just goes to work, visits friends and family, plays tennis and golf, and indulges regularly at casinos and brothels. Now, he also does a little acting on the side. He has a small part in Evan Garret's new series, ‘First Responder.’ It's about this psycho-slash-paramedic that wears a mask, going about maiming and mangling people, so he comes back and gives them life-saving medical attention; Better they live a vegetable than have no life at all.”
“Sounds like shit to me,” says Blake.
“Haters gonna hate,” says Olly, “So, Mr. Cassidy’s a member of the Finkbeiner Country Club. Nice place. They have the best call-girls in the country. He's there at least twice a week, and every Satur-night, he gets a girl at his house from there.”
“Did you just say ‘Satur-night,’ ” Joanna asks, “instead of ‘Saturday night’?”
“You bet your…” And Olly retracts his words, as Jo gives him a reproaching look. “Of course, I said ‘Satur-night’ and not Saturday night, come on, if you really thought about it, then you knew it was gonna happen eventually, and I say it's about time.”
“Right,” says Blake, “but, can we stay on course here?”
“Right,” says Olly, “So, Mr. Cassidy gets a call-girl from the Finkbeiner Country Club every Satur-night-” Joanna rolls her eyes. Olly continues, “and that's how I think we can get him. Jo will do the honors of posing as the call-girl.”
“Excuse me?” says Joanna.
“Okay, here's the deal,” continues Olly, “we're not kidnapping the man. At least, not to anywhere outside his own house.”
“Whaaat?” says Blake.
Olly explains, “The call-girl supposed to go to his house that night will get a fake message, telling her to reschedule. Jo will take her place.” He motions to Blake, “You and I ride with her to Cassidy’s house, and we raid the house, subdue the man, and subject him to God's Plan TV. We're gonna video-feed it to his house. When we’re done with him, he'll be thanking us. And with this plan, we don't have to buy no goddamned van. Blake and I can hide in the trunk of the Camry.”
“How exactly does that work?” Blake asks.
“It's a big trunk.”
“Well,” says Blake, “it’s a plan.”
“I don't know, guys,” Joanna has her doubts, “going to the man's house, somewhere we do not know, what if we met something we couldn't handle?”
“Come on,” says Olly, “The man practically lives alone. His wife left him, and his son's never around. There shall be no violence, only intimidation that the man will even thank us for when we're done with him. This needs to happen. God's Plan TV has to live up to its purpose.”
“Well,” says Joanna, “if it has to happen, it has to happen.”
“It sure does,” says Blake, “So, we have a plan, and actually a sweet plan, thanks to my man here Olly.”
“You’re welcome,” Olly tips his head, smiling, gloating.
“So, Jo, get the gun r- wait, what kinda gun is it? It better not be a rifle.”
“Yeah it's a rifle,” says Joanna, sarcastically, rolling her eyes, “And I've been able to keep it unnoticed in this small house all these years.”
“It better not be a rifle,” reiterates Blake, “That wouldn't be easy to manage.”
“It’s not a rifle,” says Joanna, “it’s a pistol.”
“Great. Get it ready, this is happening Saturday night-”
“ ‘Satur-night’, dude, don't go sounding very ugly and redundant.”
“One more thing though,” says Joanna. “How can we be sure what's on TV when we show it to him is something obvious to make him see that it's actually from the future.”
“Whoa!” says Olly, “I never really thought about that.”
“Trust me, guys,” says Blake, “there’s always something that clearly hasn't happened yet on Ent News. And who better to perceive this, than the director of the show himself.”
“Well,” says Joanna, “he better perceive. If not we go to jail.”
“No one's going to jail,” says Olly, “the plan's rock-solid. We're gonna be rich.”
“Rich?” Blake smiles, getting up, moving to the fridge, and taking out a champagne, “The blog’s already made us rich.” He grabs three glasses from a cupboard. “God’s-Plan-betting’s gonna make us gods.” He pops the champagne, filling the glasses. Jo and Olly grab theirs, and Blake raises his in the air, making a toast, “To godship!”
“To godship!” Jo and Olly cheer, raising theirs. They down the champagne, and Joanna burps especially loud.
“So we invade Mr. Cassidy Saturday night,” says Joanna.
“Satur-night,” says Olly, wearily.
“Everyone,” continues Joanna, “ready your minds.”
Four nights later, it's “Saturnight”. Blake and co, all in black, are in the living room taking the final preparations to go raid Mr. Cassidy’s house. Blake and Olly have on rolled up balaclavas. Joanna's call-girl outfit’s really classy despite the scantiness. She hands Blake the pistol. “And I might as well never give it back,” says Blake, tucking it in his waist band, “It’ll need to disappear.”
“Whatever,” says Jo, “Although, when we get stinky rich, and the world seems to notice, you may need it for protection.”
“Hmm,” Blake seems to contemplate, hint of smile on his face, “Never gonna happen.”
“Whatever, just be careful with that thing, you don’t wanna blow your nuts off.”
“Come on, Jo, you know my history with guns.”
“And remember,” says Olly, “on no occasion should it be fired. We only wanna get the man’s attention, no one wants to go to jail.”
“Duh,” says Blake.
Olly takes his laptop and plugs it with the camera videoing God’s Plan TV. He works the laptop, streaming the feed from the TV to another laptop he takes out from his backpack and also works. The second laptop now shows the live feed from God's Plan TV, “Bingo,” says he. He closes the laptop, puts it back in the backpack, and puts on the backpack. “Guys, we're all set,” he looks at his watch, “that’s it, it's time, let’s get going.”
“Right,” says Joanna and Blake, heading for the front door.
A moment later, they were on the street, getting into the Camry. Jo's driving, Blake; shotgun, Olly; back. “Wow, so this is it, we're really doing this,” says Olly.
“You bet your ass,” says Joanna, starting the car and driving away, “Get a grip.”
“ ‘I bet my ass’? So it's okay when you say it to me, but I can’t say it to you?”
“You bet your ass,” says Joanna, again.
“Right,” says Olly.
“Yeah when I got downsized,” says Blake, solemn, “I didn't think I'd go straight to being a criminal. Porn; maybe, but crime … why in the world? Well, here I am. I used to think to myself, why would anyone go and become a criminal. Why would anyone do anything to jeopardize their freedom? And now I see it, it's always worth it, it's always worth it. Nobody's crazy. Nobody's insane. Different people just have different perceptions, urges, and priorities. They’re only living up to their ideals. Nobody’s bad.
“Of course nobody’s bad,” says Olly, “how old are you, two? The important thing is to understand that what you do has consequences. It's all karma, man, people deserve what they get.”
Joanna faces Blake, “You were gonna do porn? With whom?”
“Come on,” Blake smiles, “Like the good old days. And you can wear this outfit, it’s a crowd pleaser.”
“I’m not doing goddamned porn, Blake. And if I found out you videoed me anytime, and put it anywhere, I won’t let you touch me for a month.”
“Well,” Blake smiles, “I’d better come clean 'fore you found out on your own.” Joanna shoots him a glare, coupled with the fact that she's driving, and ought to keep her eyes on the road, and that Blake has a severe knack for road safety. “Kidding. Kidding, Jeez, Jo, keep your eyes on the road.” Jo focuses on the road, but Blake adds, “I’ll delete them.” Jo eyes him, and he smiles, “What? It was before we went steady.”
“For Christ sakes, guys,” says Olly, “We’re on our way to commit a felony here, and you guys can't stop thinking about sex. What gives?”
“Chill the crib out, man,” says Blake, “it was you who wouldn't shut up about how rock-solid the plan is, wasn’t it? What gives?”
“Olly,” says Joanna, “you’re gonna need to gimme directions from here, I don't really know where we're going.”
“Take the left, no right, wait,” he checks the sat nav on his phone, “take the left.”
“Are you frigging kidding me?” says Blake, “Don’t you understand what it is we're doing here? Don't you know how easily we could end up in prison if not everything goes exactly according to plan? Keep your head in the game, man. We can't afford the slightest slips.”
“I know,” says Olly, “I know.”
“No,” continues Blake, “apparently, you do not know your left from your right. And on the very occasion you should have them at the tip of your fingers. D’you know what they do to little boys like you in prison?”
“My friend, no one’s going to prison. Hell, even if we got caught, when the authorities found out about God's Plan TV, no one will charge us with anything. They will encourage and help us convince Cassidy. You need to understand; what we're doing, we have no choice.”
“Blah blah blah,” says Blake, “what if when we got caught, by coincidence, God's Plan TV expires, and then the only thing we can look like is kidnappers.”
“The blog, dude,” says Olly, “when we show them we’re the people running the blog, then our story’ll stick.”
“And what do we back up the blog with when God's Plan TV no longer exists? The blog would just incur more felonious charges. Get your head in the game, man, you're gonna get us killed.”
“Killed? The only way anyone dies from this is if you and Jo get in an argument and crash the car. This whole thing’s a walk in the park-”
“Says the guy,” says Blake, “who was just panicking he's on his way to commit a felony.”
“I planned the perfect operation, and remember, we're not going to rob or assault anybody, we're going to endow them with the greatest gift they ever got in their miserable, pathetic life. We're going to endow them with a perfect miracle.”
“Jesus,” says Joanna, “You guys are total bitches. I can't even hear myself think here.”
“There’s nothing to think about, Jo,” says Olly, “this whole thing's gonna run itself through, smooth as silk.”
“Easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to pretend to be a call-girl, and talk the talk, and walk the walk.”
“Come on, Jo,” says Olly, “that should come easy to you, you’d been a, an es-”
“Shut up, Olly.”
“Right.”
Moments later, they're now on a lonely part of the Glendale Freeway. “Jo, pull over,” says Olly, “it’s high time Blake and I hid in the trunk.”
“Right.” She begins pulling over to the side of the road.
“Oh here comes the hard part,” says Blake, “Are we even gonna be able to breathe in there? It's gonna be a tight squeeze.”
“If you can't breathe, just breathe each other's farts.”
“Okay,” says Olly, “we're gonna need to lay some ground rules. Nobody farts in there. I mean, it could take this whole operation apart.”
“Agreed,” says Blake.
Joanna pops the trunk, and they get out the car, moving to the trunk. “So, this is it,” says Blake, “Shit’s getting real.” They stand before the gaping trunk.
“Come on,” says Joanna, “it’s not half bad, there's so much room.”
“So, baby,” Blake takes Joanna's hand, “even if it's a slight chance, there's still a chance here we may end up in jail.” Olly rolls his eyes. Blake continues, “So, let's at least at this moment, savor each other,” he moves in, kissing and caressing her, “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too,” says Joanna.
“Guys, come on,” says Olly, “no need to get all touchy. The only way anyone's gonna get mad at us for this, is if we let this opportunity pass us up. Now, we gotta stay on schedule here, this crime ain't gonna commit itself.”
“Yep,” says Joanna, “Now get in the trunk.”
“Now Jo,” says Olly, “you're sure you have the directions down.”
“Yep.”
“Great.” Olly climbs into the trunk, laying on his back. “Wow! Not half bad!”
“Dude, move over,” says Blake.
“This is as far as it goes, dude.”
Blake stalls, planning his entry.
“Well, come on, dude,” says Olly, “we ain't got all night.”
“If there isn't enough floor space,” says Joanna, “you guys are gonna have to do it sixty-nine style.” They giggle.
“I think we can manage,” Blake climbs in, squeezing himself beside Olly, “ ‘Not half bad’ my ass, this is the most uncomfortable I've ever been.”
“Well,” says Joanna, “it's for the greatest cause you ever had in your life. Okay boys, see you on the other side. Be quiet … And don't get any ideas,” she wiggles a warning finger at them.
“Are you frigging kidding me?” says Blake. Olly giggles.
“Okay,” says Joanna, “I’m shutting the trunk now. Good luck, guys.”
“Okay, baby, good luck.”
“Good luck, Jo,”
“Good luck, guys,” She shuts the trunk.
“Great,” says Blake, “just like being buried alive.”
“Dude,” says Olly, “don't freak out you’ll start to stink.”
“You guys shut the fuck up!” Joanna exhorts, “It's real from here, okay?! We could get caught!”
“Right,” says Blake and Olly.
“Just lay still and be quiet, don't even breathe loud.”
“Sure.”
Joanna heads back for the wheel, and drives off.