[057] Moving

[TFP]

Bob is squatting before the oven, looking inside that super durable glass window thing on the door, watching his pizza cook. The rubber-plastic mask and getting super hot from the ridiculously high amount of heat he set the oven to since he can't cook... he's a guy... so it's explainable and can be forgiven if his house were to set up in flames any other time. It's not like it hasn't happened before, many times he awoke to a black cloud on his ceiling, choking the air out of his lungs. Anyways, the pizza is 90% black and he finally opens up the oven.

Bob Pocket: "Pizza is done!"

Reaching in, he grabs it with both hands and throws it up against the wall since it is hotter than your grandfather's mom! BURN!

Bob Pocket: "HOLY SHIT!"

The pizza starts to set flames to the wall since it is so freakin' hot. Bob freaks out and opens the fridge, throwing beer bottles at the wall to put the fire out. But he's only adding to it since alcohol is flammable, kids. Don't try this shit at home!

Bob Pocket: "THE WALL! THE WALL! THE WALL IS ON FIRE!"

PJ pops in for a moment.

PJ Curtis: "WE DON'T NEED NOTHING BUT NACHOS AND STREET FIGHTER!"

He looks at the wall.

PJ Curtis: "YOU FUCKIN' RETARD!"

PJ starts to spit at the flaming walls.

Bob Pocket: "IT'S NOT WORKING!"

PJ Curtis: "YOU'RE SUCH A FREAKIN' IDIOT, BOB! I'M SO PISSED OFF RIGHT NOW THAT I'M ALMOST CRYING! JUST YOU WAIT, I'M GOING TO SEND A MUSLIM AFTER YOU WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT!"

Bob Pocket: "Hey! Easy with the bomb threats! Those are uncalled for!"

PJ Curtis: "I hate you and I hate pizza 'n wall fire combinations! You're the worst person to ever cook!"

Bob Pocket: "MEN DON'T COOK!"

PJ Curtis: "THEN WHY ARE YOU EVEN TRYING TO?!"

Bob Pocket: "THEN WHY DO WE HAVE AN OVEN?!"

PJ Curtis: "IT'S YOUR HOUSE, FAGGOT!"

He sighs.

Bob Pocket: "I'm moving."

PJ Curtis: "Good choice."