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don't be defensive. This
panel is here to determine the accuracy of some of the statements
the hospital has been getting from others on your panel. I'm sure
this is all a misunderstanding we can clear up, if you just tell us
the truth.”
    “Notwithstanding, I will not sit idly by and
be accused of participating in an activity that only crazy people
believe exists. I have a reputation to protect.” Morty looked at
his colleague, noting a higher-than-ideal amount of concern in his
face. Plan B then.
    He continued, “And furthermore, I believe
this whole issue is the product of a personal conflict between
myself and three of the younger members of my panel.” he caught
himself, “By that I mean, the panel on which I humbly serve.”
    “This is news to me. What sort of personal
conflict?” The Reverend asked, skeptical but hopeful.
    This first panel was essential to the
financial well-being of the hospital, and she desperately wanted a
logical explanation for the reports that one of its members
practically ordered hits on a cancer-stricken elementary school
janitor and a five-year-old with Down Syndrome.
    “Long story short, they are in love with me,
and I am not in love with them,” said Mr. Greene.
    He wore such an expression of deadly
seriousness while he said it that at least half of the second
panel's members busted out in open laughter. One of the board
members was drinking coffee as he said it, and started choking out
of sheer surprise. His face got hot and red and he gurgle-coughed
violently, spewing coffee out of his mouth and nose and all over
the desk in front of him. Everyone on the second panel eventually
turned their heads to watch him as he continued loudly hacking, his
wide eyes searching in vain for a napkin or paper towel or anything
to clean up the mess that was all around him. The Reverend passed
some Kleenex from her purse to the man who knew Morty from college,
and that eventually made it down to the red-faced man. While still
madly coughing, the man tried in vain to towel off his desk, his
papers, his shirt, and his pants with a small wad of facial
tissues. He would have excused himself and cleaned up in the
bathroom, but he really wanted to see what happened next at the
suddenly interesting hearing. Two minutes later, after being
certain he didn't have to cough anymore, he looked apologetically
at the chairwoman and croaked, “Ok, whew.”
    Turning back to Mr. Morty Greene, the
Reverend chairwoman could barely hide her contempt. She had taken
the previous two minutes to come up with a proper question to ask
him, but settled on the word that had originally come into her
mind: “What?”
    The idea that a bizarre love rhombus was
responsible for everything sounded better in his head than out
loud, he now realized. He was dead as a fossil here. Even if he got
through this second panel's questioning, he would be closely
monitored to make sure he wasn't indeed attempting to operate a
Sarah Palin-style Death Panel, which he indeed was. His ongoing
mission would be a failure no matter what. He comforted himself
that he at least got to off a few mouth-breathers before the plebes
stepped in and stopped progress. They caught the last two only
because his execution, as it were, had gotten sloppy. It was a
mistake he wouldn't make the next time, for humanity's sake. He
comforted himself that every little bit helped, and that one person
could indeed make a difference.
    “You know what, Madame Reverend chairperson?
I think it's best if I resign, just to save everyone on my panel,
er, the panel I serve on, too much trouble.”
    “Yes, I think that would probably be
best.”
    The Pastor was chuckling a little and shaking
her head as the absurdity of it all began to coalesce before
her.
    “But I vehemently deny doing anything
untoward or unethical while I served,” He stood up in front of
them. “and I do maintain my innocence. My resignation does not mean
I am guilty of doing anything wrong.”
    She hoped