Scooter's return to town has become the equivalent of a hurricane touching down on a port town.
BRAD: Is this your way of asking for help?
I'm calling in Brad.
Scooter had already successfully managed to derail any progress Aaron was having with trying to meet nice guys, and he killed AJ's not-sleeping-with-losers streak.
Now I had a feeling he'd set his sights on Anthony.
BRAD: Don't you think you're being a little bit paranoid?
ME: Where Scooter is concerned, there is no paranoia. All your worst fears come true.
BRAD: Didn't you used to be friends with this guy?
ME: Oh, we're still friends. I just don't trust him to be around anyone with a weak sense of self without completely destroying them.
BRAD: Sounds like a pal to me.
Brad and I headed over to Anthony's apartment to try and head Scooter off at the pass.
God, I can't believe I just used the term 'head off at the pass.'
When we got to Anthony's apartment, Scooter's car was already parked out front.
ME: This is impossible!
BRAD: Are you sure he doesn't have a tracking device on you?
ME: I checked.
BRAD: Well, he can't have been here long. Didn't you just leave him with AJ?
ME: Trust me, he moves fast. He may have even brought AJ over to screw two birds with one stone.
We knocked on the door, and Anthony answered--fully clothed, thank God.
ANTHONY: Hey! We were wondering when you were going to get here.
ME: The 'we' being you and Scooter?
ANTHONY: Yeah! He told me you said to get the party started and you'd join us later.
ME: I said no such thing.
Scooter appeared behind Anthony mixing a drink.
SCOOTER: You know I have a hard time hearing you when you speak lameass.
I barged into the apartment, and pulled Scooter into the bathroom.
SCOOTER: Stop what?
ME: You know what.
SCOOTER: Again, lameass.
ME: Scooter, in less than twenty-four hours, you have slept with two out of the four people I'm trying to help.
SCOOTER: I know, but I'm not counting that chick because I haven't been bi since high school.
ME: Finish your drink. Say your good-byes. Then head back to Boston.
SCOOTER: Eat some nachos. Play some Cranium. Then we'll talk.
There's no reasoning with him when he's like this.
We all had our nachos, played some Cranium, and by the time we were done, everyone--aside from me--was trashed.
In Scooter terminology, "trashed" means "good to go."
ANTHONY: Kev, I might need a speech soon.
ME: Let's take this to the bedroom.
SCOOTER: That's what I said!
BRAD: Less talking, more pouring, Scoop.
In Anthony's bedroom, I got to the bottom of why he--and many others--find Scooter so irresistible.
ANTHONY: He's so stupid.
Ah, the money trait.
ANTHONY: I mean, come on, that's hot, right?
ME: Can you explain to me what's hot about someone being a tool?
ANTHONY: Maybe it's the caveman in me.
ME: You are aware the cavemen had enlarged foreheads and ate raw bison, right?
ANTHONY: What's bison?
ME: Pre-historic kittens.
ANTHONY: Ew! Really?
Hey, I have to have some fun too.
ME: Anthony, this is exactly what's wrong with all of you. You have your preferences and your priorities all mixed up. You should be going for guys who are smart, kind, reliable--
ME: No! You need to reassess what you want in life. If you just want one-night stands and walks of shame then keep getting with guys like Scooter. If you want to wake up twenty years from now next to someone you're actually proud to be waking up next to, then you need to go back in that kitchen and tell Scooter to leave.
Anthony took a deep breath.
ANTHONY: Kev, you know the great thing about a diet?
ME: No, what?
ANTHONY: You can always start it tomorrow.
With that, he took off into the kitchen.
I gathered up my dignity and met Brad in the front hall.
BRAD: You ready to give up?
ME: I've not yet begun to fight.
BRAD: But he's won. Anthony and he--
ME: I know, I know. But there's one thing about Scooter you don't understand.
BRAD: What's that?
With Scooter, the game is never really over.