Numbers for Nelson

"Hey, Sterling. What are you working on?" (Said pleasantly you get the sense they have a work friendship)
"What?" (Almost daring him to ask again)

(Picking up a paper weight and examining it) "You look hard at work, what are you doing?”

(Screaming, animated, crazy. Way over the top. Sterling believes he is the sane one in this dialogue. He believes he is completely rational and is justified in going off like this)

”Are you kidding me? What does it look like I’m doing? Hello - I’m doing numbers for Nelson. I have got to get these numbers to Nelson. Numbers to Nelson. That’s what I’m doing? What kind of question is that? I'm busting my back, churning and burning numbers, and you’re going to skip in here and run your mouth about what am I doing? I don't have the time or the inclination to talk to you about this. I have got to get these numbers to Nelson. Do you think for one minute that these numbers are somehow going to bounce off the page and stroll down to Nelson and say, "Hi ya, Nelson, we're the numbers" - no! (Jumping) That won't happen. Or maybe you’re sitting there thinking somebody is going to come in here and do this for me. Well I got news for you buster, not going to happen. For days all I've been thinking is numbers to Nelson, numbers to Nelson (chanting) numbers to Nelson (miming a high school drum major) numbers to Nelson. (Singing numbers to Nelson to tune of Frosty the snowman) Numbers to Nelson is what I have at task, I will add them up write them down and Nelson won’t have to ask - I am busy. That's right - busy. Do you know what this (holds out four fingers) is? That's a number. And you know what? That four and a bunch of his buddies have to get cruising down to Nelson. How's he (the number) going to get there? Me. What? Numbers. Where? Nelson. When? Now. I cannot be wasting time, hand holding and massaging and answering the ridiculous when I have work to do. Maybe the world in which you live has things happening on there own. But in my world baby, it's blood, sweat, tears and numbers to Nelson. So do us all a favor and leave a man's job for a man.

"Okay." (Dumbfounded)

"Numbers don't just appear. Do think numbers are just going to jump off the calendar? Or from my ruler – are you thinking all those numbers and dashes are coming off into a spreadsheet? You’re crazy. Do you think the numbers on my watch are going to jump on a sheet of paper? No. Numbers need to be created. The lottery isn't going to donate to me a bunch of numbers and even if they did, (full bodied scream, moderate tempo) how would they get to Nelson? This is ridiculous. I can’t believe I am having this conversation. I have to get these numbers to Nelson. Me. Not you. Me. Not her. Me, not we. (Shadow boxing) Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Don't waste my time. Don't question me.

Minutes later

"Nelson, here are those numbers."

(Nelson looks up from paper work)

"Oh, hey Sterling. What's this?"

"The numbers."

"The numbers . . . numbers , , , oh yeah, thanks."
Sterling turns his back and heads out the door as Nelson throws the numbers away.