Few things in life are worth murdering for. Unfortunately for Dennis Franz, my soon-to-be-airing sitcom “Can Our Robot Watch the Game?” is one of them.

If you had told me a week ago that I’d be involved in a gentlemen’s pistol duel at sunrise against the ex-“NYPD Blue” star, I’d have said, “That’s malarkey!”

Fumbling with my revolutionary war firearm as I count off my paces, I start reflecting on how I ended up in this situation.

One of the first days on the set we were shooting an uproarious scene for “CORWG.” In the throes of a Nyquil bender, Roy (Franz) suffers a hallucination of a screaming cake. Roy’s 15-minute melee with a pink birthday cake was essential in setting the comedic tone for the show, as well as gaining a grasp of Roy’s motivations.

I tweaked the script while makeup applied more frosting to Franz. I felt the barrage of swearing Roy brought upon the cake wasn’t harsh enough. This is when Franz made the mistake of approaching me, even though the cast had been strictly prohibited from being within a 15-foot radius of me.

My assistant, Taco Wallace, wasn’t there to cut him off. Taco was somewhere upstate burying a dead hooker.

“Tyler,” Franz began, “I’m a little confused. If this is family sitcom, why am I cussing so much? And why is half the pilot episode Roy fighting figments of his imagination? Shouldn’t there be more structure?”

There was that word again — structure. I slowly met his gaze from under my 30-pound cowboy hat made of gold. I nonchalantly asked, “Well, what would you do with the show, Dennis?”

Dennis crinkled his face in thought and said, “I guess I’d make it a little more traditional. You know, more relatable. That’s why shows like ‘Everybody Loves Raymond,’ ‘Rosanne,’ ‘The Cosby Show,’ and ‘Family Matters’ were successful. Families could laugh and learn from situations they themselves were facing.”

“Traditional!” I shouted with a ring of encrusted Spaghetti O’s encircling my mouth. “Originality is the beginning of any tradition. If we just keep running through the motions of what’s worked in the past, nothing new and innovative will ever exist. Who cares if it’s not relatable? Why would I want to watch a recreation of my life on TV? Is it so I can say, ‘Boy, I’m sure glad someone else’s life is as boring as mine.’ I think the public would rather visit flights of fancy they can’t find in their humdrum lives.”

Before Franz could muster up a retort, the robot playing Fifteen walked over with a loud mechanical racket. Slightly bewildered and frightened, Franz continued, “None of that matters if your show in canceled after one episode.”

I grabbed Franz by the shirt collar and yanked him inches from my face — a cloud of Brute aroma put moisture on his face. I yelled, “Look actor, you just be a good monkey and read the lines I write for you! Got it? This show cannot fail! It is my destiny to save television. I am The One.”

Franz’s body twitched and convulsed with a fiery hatred only seen in the eyes of someone who can’t comprehend their existence. He wound up for a crushing punch, and instead of hitting me, hit fifteen. Fifteen fell over and shattered. I let out a girly squeal.

I kneeled down and held Fifteen’s tin head. His last distorted electronic words were, “Robots can love, too.” I looked up at Franz and knew this could be settled only one way. I slapped his jowly face making it ripple. Words need not be exchanged. We both knew: pistols at sunrise.

And now here I am in Central Park, counting off paces. Franz’s nasally voice is becoming a distant murmur. Before he gets too far I turn around, cheating halfway through the count, and aim for Franz’s bulbous melon.

The blast causes a flock of birds to flee from the trees around us. Franz’s body, now headless, hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Caught in a fit of manic laughter, I can feel destiny coming to fruition.

The cast member I never chose, nor wanted, has been offed in a classic man’s duel, absolving me from guilt. Matthew Lesko will inherit the role of Roy, my respect will go up at least five points, and after Fifteen is rebuilt stronger than before, “CORWG” will rule airwaves.

I’m tightening my iron grasp on network television.

Will Dennis Franz come back from the dead in zombie form forcing Tyler to confront his fear of The Care Bears? Can Tyler’s destiny as the new Fuhrer of Television be fulfilled or will the fortune cookie he got the idea from be wrong? Find out in next week’s episode of Lost in a Pixel Blizzard!

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