[ WP ] The last television program .

`` What do you two knuckleheads think I pay you for? Do n't just stand there, do something! ``, the short man yelled at two interns who were having a smoke break but instantly scattered. This was Mac Walentowicz in his element, and he was savoring every second of it. Clad in the most hideous two-piece suit, with a tie to match it, he had been strolling around the studio premisses since four in the morning, not leaving even the smallest stone unturned. If he had anything to say this show would be magic, pure and simple. And to be completely honest: it had to be; this was his last chance. Not that he was getting to old, no, no, no. He had always been of the opinions that good producers were like wines: aging with dignity and equally hard to find something for the snobs as for the masses ( He himself had always leaned more towards the'masses'-side ). The simple truth was when the curtain would be lowered, at roughly midnight tonight, it would be for the very last time. Television was dead and this was the funeral. An unusually sequin-clad funeral. 
 
 The other bigwigs all arrived at the studio about eight o'clock. They were definitely not in their elements. Mostly old men and women in grey suits, they could probably not recall the last time they had actually visited the studio in person. Some of them had managed to secure positions at other multinational companies after television's inevitable execution that night. Most however had not, and were forced into, what almost any other person would call, a luxury retirement, that was significantly less luxurious than they had expected. Mac already waited at the far end of the board room when the others walked in at almost the exact same time. 
 `` Let's rip this band-aid off as quickly as possible! Meet Mr. Mac Walentowicz, award-winning television-producer and -director'', the chairman of the board said despondently whilst gesturing towards Mac. 
 `` Thank you for your kind words Gerald! We've got a spectacular show for you here tonight people, a real tear-jerker'', Mac started but quickly got interrupted by one of the members of the board: 
 `` Are n't you that horrible little man who came up with the idea behind'Mud in my hat'‽''. 
 `` Yeah! and'The Real Oranges of Housewife County' as well. The network was nearly bankrupt by that horrible show'', another one chimed in. This, however, was no match for Mac. The son of the most prolific car salesman in the north west, he had a way with people, when he wanted of course. 
 `` Please, please! Calm down. I know some of us have had some petty disagreements in the past but we have to put that aside on a day like this. This is not about us, it's about television - the greatest darn medium of art this planet has ever seen, and probably will ever see I might add. Let's instead dazzle the people one last time and let this giant go out with a proper farewell! ``, sweet was dripping from his temples. The room had once again gone silent. 
 `` I promise you: it will all be done with grace and be extremely tastefull. Not a single eye in the country will be dry when the clock strikes midnight!''. 
 
 Somehow the bigwigs bought it, or at least they did n't care. In the end, it did n't really matter to Mac. Had he been a cat he would have walked around the studio the rest of the day, purring. But he was n't. Instead he walked around the studio the rest of the day puffing on a large cigar. When he had some tiny gap in his otherwise tight schedule he made sure to follow the news, either trough the papers or on radio. It felt like he was standing on the brink of history. The interest for tonight's show was immense. Families who had n't watched television in decades had suddenly went out in large masses to find one they could rent for the evening's event. Many cities were even organising communal screenings at their local cinemas because of the high demand. Now and then he grabbed someone by their collar and laughed: 
 `` This is it! Life is good. We are making history, here, today!''. And sure enough history was in the making. With merely an hour to go, the stage was almost ready. Thousands of dancers, orchestra members, singers, acrobats, animal handlers, crew members, jugglers, clowns, caterers, magicians, race car drivers, ventriloquists, interpreters and countless other professions very tensely waiting for their big moments. Four hours, four of the most spectacular hours ever, and then television would cease to exist. 
 
 Mac struggled with getting his old tux on. He did n't particularly enjoy looking like a penguin, but he could n't resist getting swept away with the ecstatic mood. 
 `` Ten minutes Mr. Walentowicz'', a voice told him trough his earpiece as he drank a glass of apple juice to calm his nerves. As he was walking trough the narrow corridors behind the gigantic set the realisation suddenly struck him: this really was it. He was showed to his position under the stage and was given a smartphone to be able to see the first performance of the show. 
 `` Three, two, one. It's showtime everybody! ``, the little voice said in the earpiece. Mac took a few short breaths and then opened his eyes. For a few too many seconds nothing seemed to be happening at all on the little screen in his palm. But just as he could here a loud boom from a cannon above him everything started at once. It all almost brought him to tears already, both trough pure joy but also trough an intense melancholy he would've never showed another human soul. It was... so beautiful. A perfectly choreographed number with show dancers, major pop stars, fire-breathers, acrobats and live elephants. As the daring trick from the acrobats was over, he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and slipped the phone into his pocket. The platform that was about to elevate him onto the stage started with a sudden jolt and then smoothly raised him up amongst the performers who all stood with wide smiles, trying to catch their breath. Mac took in the moment and then spoke loudly into his microphone: 
 `` Welcome! Welcome everyone! To The Very Last Show! ``, and just as the audience started applauding, even louder than before, Mac heard the sound of a panicking elephant. Then everything went dark. And then all hell broke loose.
