Garry had accepted years ago that his job was as much Therapist and Glorified Babysitter as it was anything else. That didn’t make it any easier on days like this.

“Terry? Are you going to join us today?”

From the other side of an intentionally-ajar door Garry heard a book close before, “I am not!”

He pushed the door open so he could make eye contact with the giant middle-aged man-child he needed to appease at the moment. “You know, Terry, you are vital to our work today. We can’t complete—“

“You know that I am a highly-trained professional, Garry? You know that, right?”

Garry sighed. “I do.”

“You know that I studied under the greats, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Karras. Uecker. Dryer.”

“I know.”

“McHale. Rodman. Bradshaw.”

“I know.”

Terry looked up from his closed book and met Garry’s eyes. “I am a serious actor, Garry.” He emphasized “tor,” the way all serious actors do.

“I understand that, but—“

“But nothing, Garry. My career is important to me, but so is the image I present. I must be SEEN as a serious actor if I am to continue to BE a serious actor. That’s how this business works, Garry.”

“I know very well how the business works, Terry.”

Terry stood, his former-athlete physique intimidatingly filling the small dressing room, eclipsing the light from his vanity. “Do you know, Garry? Do you really understand what this means to me? What my career—my image—means to me? If so, why do you continue to give me scripts with this…” Here he picked up the script for, well, dramatic effect, only to toss it back down on his coffee table. “This… drivel?”

“I’m not the writer, Terry.”

“No, but you are the director. You are the one that can bring change, Garry.”

“I think you overestimate my influence here.”

“And I think you underestimate mine. Now, let me be clear, if you don’t start to provide me with some better, higher-class material than I’m walking. I mean it, Garry, I’m done. I will leave this production!”

Garry, unamused and unimpressed, said in a droll monotone, “You leave, you forfeit your remaining per-episode payouts, which I believe comes out to roughly two-point-six million.”

It only took Garry’s highly-trained production crew five minutes to get ready. Once set, the camera crew started rolling, the actors took their positions, the studio audience silently awaited their favorite part of the long-running sitcom.

A cheer erupted when, on cue, the eccentrically goofy neighbor Herman—played by former NFL defensive End Terry Klews—popped his head in through the open top of a Dutch door with a, “Maybe I can be of assistance!”

The audience cheered and laughed along with the Miller Family, before Mom said, “You know what, Herman, maybe you can. But…”

At this, Mom opened the bottom half of the Dutch door to reveal the zany neighbor wearing every part of a perfectly-tailored business suit except one critical piece.

Herman-aka-Terry looked down, then at the camera, and pulled a face. To the roar of the overjoyed studio audience, he let loose with his most T-shirt-worthy catchphrase:

“But I forgot my pants!”