Post by TFP on Nov 8, 2008 22:55:28 GMT -4
Bob and PJ stand in the same bed-room, staring at the mirror in front of them as they are wearing nothing but their underwear. PJ looks at himself and shakes his head, then flicks his lovehandles and watches as they jiggle. Bob stares at PJ's lovehandles, too, and grabs a sewing needle. He is about to poke one of them, but PJ jumps away and gets in a karate stance to defend himself.
PJ Curtis: "THEY WON'T LEAK! IT'S JUST AN URBAN LEGEND!"
Bob Pocket: "Oh..."
PJ walks closer to the mirror and stares at his chin, then makes a scrunched up face. He brings his hand up and pops a pimple onto the mirror. Bob runs to the window, opening it up and puking out of it. A gush of cold wind comes through the window, backfiring his barf onto himself and almost freezing the two. Bob slams the window shut and PJ drops to the floor, pounding his fist.
PJ Curtis: "It's Valentine's Day and we don't have dates... we don't have any girls to go out with. Not only that, but I've got a pimple that will NOT go away while you just puked on yourself. I say that starting today, we make a change for the better. Bob, I'm going to be honest here... looking in that gigantic mirror before us, I realized something; we're lazy, stupid, disgusting and are in need of a lot of hygenic products. You go shower... and USE THE SOAP THIS TIME... while I go to the Pharmacy and buy a bottle of Clearasil to get rid of this pimple. Got it? Because when we're both ready, we're going to find dates."
Bob Pocket: "Okay."
PJ jumps into a tuxedo, gels his hair and slips on a pair of clown shoes. Bob runs to the shower, slips on water that was left on the floor from PJ's sponge-bath and he breaks the ceramic sink by falling on it. Heading out the door, PJ stands on the stoop of their house and looks around, hands on his hips. He sees numerous couples holding hands, skipping down the sidewalk with their elbows interlocked and then he looks at himself in the reflection of the door window. He's alone. So, so alone. But behind the window he sees a pair of two. He squints his eyes and hears Bob laughing.
PJ Curtis: "Oh, awww... now that's just sick."
Leaving, PJ keeps walking and walking and walking. He finally reaches the Pharmacy and walks to the cosmetic section. He sees make-up for women. Lots and lots of make-up. So then he thinks. If he can't get rid of this pimple by popping it every single day, maybe he could cover it up with make-up. But knowing him, he would pick out the wrong skin tone and give himself a patch of darkness on his chin. So he continues and realizes that there is nothing here at all. He keeps walking through several isles until he finds it. Clearasil. This is all that a teenager needs. Without it, they are nothing. They don't leave the house, they skip school and they wear masks. Bob is a good example of this. He wears masks because of the horrible acne he had as a child. So he wore a mask, hoping to deprive the amount of oxygen that would reach his face. Therefore, the skin will die, flake and maybe his acne will die.
PJ Curtis: "Yoink."
He speadily walks to the counter, pays for it, then walks out the door, hiding it inside his tuxedo. He runs down the sidewalk and hurries inside of his house. He looks in the mirror and stares at the pimple. It seems to be growing back with a vengeance. Grinding his teeth, PJ sets down the bottle of Clearasil and takes off the top of his tuxedo, then throws the dress-shirt aside, too. Two spoons from the kitchen are grabbed and he closes into the mirror, squeezing the pimple with force with both metal spoons. Pressure is applied extremely hard and a world of yellow is excreted from the red lump onto the mirror. He falls to the ground in exhaustion and grabs hold of the Clearasil bottle, opening it up and pouring the majority of it on his face and chin.
PJ Curtis: "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Rough.
PJ Curtis: "THEY WON'T LEAK! IT'S JUST AN URBAN LEGEND!"
Bob Pocket: "Oh..."
PJ walks closer to the mirror and stares at his chin, then makes a scrunched up face. He brings his hand up and pops a pimple onto the mirror. Bob runs to the window, opening it up and puking out of it. A gush of cold wind comes through the window, backfiring his barf onto himself and almost freezing the two. Bob slams the window shut and PJ drops to the floor, pounding his fist.
PJ Curtis: "It's Valentine's Day and we don't have dates... we don't have any girls to go out with. Not only that, but I've got a pimple that will NOT go away while you just puked on yourself. I say that starting today, we make a change for the better. Bob, I'm going to be honest here... looking in that gigantic mirror before us, I realized something; we're lazy, stupid, disgusting and are in need of a lot of hygenic products. You go shower... and USE THE SOAP THIS TIME... while I go to the Pharmacy and buy a bottle of Clearasil to get rid of this pimple. Got it? Because when we're both ready, we're going to find dates."
Bob Pocket: "Okay."
PJ jumps into a tuxedo, gels his hair and slips on a pair of clown shoes. Bob runs to the shower, slips on water that was left on the floor from PJ's sponge-bath and he breaks the ceramic sink by falling on it. Heading out the door, PJ stands on the stoop of their house and looks around, hands on his hips. He sees numerous couples holding hands, skipping down the sidewalk with their elbows interlocked and then he looks at himself in the reflection of the door window. He's alone. So, so alone. But behind the window he sees a pair of two. He squints his eyes and hears Bob laughing.
PJ Curtis: "Oh, awww... now that's just sick."
Leaving, PJ keeps walking and walking and walking. He finally reaches the Pharmacy and walks to the cosmetic section. He sees make-up for women. Lots and lots of make-up. So then he thinks. If he can't get rid of this pimple by popping it every single day, maybe he could cover it up with make-up. But knowing him, he would pick out the wrong skin tone and give himself a patch of darkness on his chin. So he continues and realizes that there is nothing here at all. He keeps walking through several isles until he finds it. Clearasil. This is all that a teenager needs. Without it, they are nothing. They don't leave the house, they skip school and they wear masks. Bob is a good example of this. He wears masks because of the horrible acne he had as a child. So he wore a mask, hoping to deprive the amount of oxygen that would reach his face. Therefore, the skin will die, flake and maybe his acne will die.
PJ Curtis: "Yoink."
He speadily walks to the counter, pays for it, then walks out the door, hiding it inside his tuxedo. He runs down the sidewalk and hurries inside of his house. He looks in the mirror and stares at the pimple. It seems to be growing back with a vengeance. Grinding his teeth, PJ sets down the bottle of Clearasil and takes off the top of his tuxedo, then throws the dress-shirt aside, too. Two spoons from the kitchen are grabbed and he closes into the mirror, squeezing the pimple with force with both metal spoons. Pressure is applied extremely hard and a world of yellow is excreted from the red lump onto the mirror. He falls to the ground in exhaustion and grabs hold of the Clearasil bottle, opening it up and pouring the majority of it on his face and chin.
PJ Curtis: "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Rough.