Don't You Forget About Me {Community}

Interpretive Dance

Int. Study Room F.

The group, minus Pierce, sat in their regular spots. Annie was standing in front of her chair.

Annie: Before we start, I'd like to have a preliminary powwow, or prelimi-wow, about what I'm calling our library's backdoor conundrum.

Abed: Sounds like a porno with Kate Winslet.

Annie: Abed, Eww. The door on that side is locked after 5:00, which means that most of us have to walk all the way around. Now, if we were to move our meetings to 4:30...

Britta and Troy: No!

The two exchanged worried looks, while the rest of them looked at them confused.

Troy: I have a regular class at that time. It's like math or other regular classes.

Britta: I have something unimportant that can't ever move.

Alice: Because that doesn't sound suspicious.

Annie: Well, maybe one of us could stand by the back door and let the rest in?

Shirley: I nominate Pierce.

Max: Speaking of Pierce, has anyone seen him?

The group looks to Pierce's seat that was empty at the moment.

Britta: I've haven't seen him all day.

Annie took her seat, looking worried.

Annie: Neither have I.

Jeff: Well, has anyone called him.

Abed: I did. Several times, actually, but he never returned my calls.

They all gave each other worried glances.

Shirley: Oh no.

Troy's eyes widened as he put his head in his hand.

Troy: The last thing I said to him was suck it.

Britta: Me too.

Pierce walked in happily and took his seat.

Pierce: Good morning.

The group let out a sigh of relief. Shirley smiled and clapped. The older man looked at the group.

Pierce: You thought I was dead, didn't you?

The group quickly shook their heads and protested his comment. No, of course not. No, that's silly. Abed raised his hand with a smile on his face.

Abed: I did.

Pierce: You people have any idea how emasculating that is? I'm not Mickey Rooney. You don't have to cross your fingers to see if I'll show up. You know, when I was 30, people used to wish that I was dead to my face! That's called respect.

Britta noticed some stray hairs on Jeff's shirt. She leaned over with a teasing grin and started to pick off the hair.

Britta: Who is the lucky brunette?

Jeff: Last name Beeswax, first name none-a-ya.

Pierce: Oh, my third wife was biracial.

He playfully slapped her hands away.

Jeff: Stop it.

Britta: I am just trying to help keep you out of trouble. What if the next girl saw these?