Without explanation, Scott felt the sudden need to rush to the kitchen.  With an explanation, he may have chosen differently, rushing faster if there was still time (albeit very little) or not rushing at all if the time had expired.  Since Scott owned no wristwatch – the trendy wraparound tattoo provided a better answer than "half past the cow's ****" when asked, though no one ever did – he didn't know the time.  Or an explanation.

Rushing into the kitchen, Scott determined it didn't matter where he was.  Cell phone. 

On the other end of the oxymoronic cordless line, Jordan awaited the announcement, the harbinger, the epiphany, whatever it was that cut off previous authors.  

He waited.

Agonizingly long.

Yet no answers came, regardless of awfully formatted spacing to achieve a sense of tension.  Before the font size and style changed to further emphasize an unmade point, Jordan asked, "What is it?"

Scott worried.  Could Jordan read his mind?  How else would his ambiguously gendered friend know he was silently thinking the words to Faith No More's Epic?  Between FNM and SM, he'd encountered enough epics for one week, so he threw his friend/comrade/lover/biscuit salesman a bone.  Sadly, Scott was too far away to catch it.  And also as a vegetarian and animal rights activist, offended.

Scott spoke, as determined with the use of quotation marks, "Do you remember the speaker?"

Jordan replied, "All the way from chapter 1?  Not especially.  I suppose I could always browse backwards and find out more."

"There's no time!"  Scott insisted, ignoring the mistruth regardless of how much his lack of a wristwatch supported the hypothesis.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Um..." Scott began to speak, blatantly ignoring two of his author's rules of better writing.  "Pick a number between one and ten."

"Four!" Jordan replied before Scott had a chance to tell him not to tell him.  He was confused.  I am too.

"Do you mean fore like the number or fore like the golf swing?"

Jordan meant the number.  He said as much.  "The number."

"Do you think this is any easier to read since it's broken into short, choppy paragraphs?  Because the other fragments of this story tend to have larger blocks.  Like Legos, I guess.  This one has a lot of two-by-two pieces, but the first two – I'll call them establishing chapters, though I've little clue what they may or may not have established – those were chunky Duplos.  Perhaps by the end of this structure, someone will define what it looks like.  But for now, it appears to be one thick block of dialog amidst otherwise quick hits.  Is that helpful?"

Towards what end?  Towards what end, indeed.

"The speaker," Scott reiterated.  "He knew it was urgent!"

"What was urgent?"

"THIS IS!!!"

"This what?"

Foregoing an attempt at an Abbott & Costello sketch tribute, Scott believed Jordan was stupid for not recognizing the urgency of ALL CAPITAL LETTERS PLUS MULTIPLE EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!

"Why are you doing this to me?" Scott whined as a jet engine whined overhead.

"I hit the snooze alarm on life, Scott!  But now I've been reawakened!"

"You've whatted the who?"

"I need to find the speaker!  Meet me at the location!"

With that, they were off.