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    -'Ey Joe.

     =Hey hot stuff.  Kim, what the hell are you watching in there?
    -'Ey Mark.  Hey Brett.
     =Oh, hey Danny.  I got so desperately lonely from the nine hour wait for my boyfriend to pick up some crab rangoon and a can of Pringles that I decided to flick on a channel I can't stand watching and get all nostalgic for him.
    -Hey Jowawawait.  Wha-- What the hell are you wearing?
     =Great, I picked up Kill Bill and the Ring, we can have a whole marathon of stuff you hate.  What's this weird looking plate of spinach in the fridge?
    -Joe, is that a tank to--
     =I should know better than to send my cherry topped fiance for pickup at a Chienese restauraunt that's right next to a corporate Blockbuster headquarters.
    -Wha?  Oh.  They had a bunch of them real cheap at that new place in the center.
     =Sucks to be pregnant.  Anyway why knock my shirt?  What does that have to do with anything?
    -It's gay.
     =It's girly.
    -It was on sale.
     =It was the most expensive shirt at Foot Locker.
    -But it... it's lavender.
     =It's cherry; it's practically pink as mine.  You're almost a married man now.  If you're gay I want to know before a secret ex-boyfriend breaks into the wedding chappel and objects.
     -Nahh, it's purple.  I'm like a pumped Barney the Dinosaur.
    =It's red!  Primal, fiery, Corvette-speeding R-rated lead-pumped blood-spraying red.  Red and pink aren't even on the same page.  Red is the caveman dancing around the very first fire in his creation of a primal element.  Red is the Viper you thought I looked so sexy test driving last week.  Lava is red.  Hell is red; you think a woman could handle being lord of the underworld?  It's nature.  God made male cardinals red to attract the ladies.  If girl cardinals were red they'd get shot or mauled in a week.  Guy cardinals can be red 'cuz they a'int scared o' shit.  You're just jealous I'm still in my prime while you're gonna turn into a fat bloated cow now.  Rudolph had a red nose, you know.  Look what he accomplished.  If red was even in the same stadium as pink, they wouldn't have put the shirt on a star basketball manakin.  You shoulda seen him, he was the central manakin in the store.  All the other plastic guys were positioned like they were ready to bow down to him.  Take my word for it, red is the official color of the alpha male.
    -'Eezright, Joe, it's defin'ly lilacky.
     =She's right, Dan.  Red might work good on a viper, bird, or a disfunctional reindeer, but a cherry tank top is just plain fruity, Nike logo or not.
    -Defin'ly.  Defin'ly lilacky.
     =Hmm.  My tight red costume spidey senses are definitely telling me something strange is afoot.  It seems like Toby is saying something from the living room, but I get the surreal feeling that my girlfriend's mocking my new hobby by practicing her shit ventriloquism skills on her plush chinchilla.  It might have something to do with that they both sound like they're chewing gum and filing their nails, but it's probably just me.  Or maybe Toby is the one who's gay, and I've been projecting my fiery alpha male genes onto him all this time by forcing him to talk like a cherry alpha rodent.
    -Don't mock my bubblegum slur.  And I bet lilacky's a word somewhere.  I bet the wholesale lavender tank sales guys use it all the time.  Oh yah I forgot Joe, that cute singing telegram kid dropped by again for you with some petunias, they're in the basement next to your favorite lawn mower.
     =Or visa versa.  Hey could you grab me a water while you're in the kitchen?  You didn't happen to pick up any pizza, did you?  Or cheetos?  Or skittles?  The baby's changed her mind five times since you left.  
    -I picked up the pizza Mark.  Did you say mushrooms or dead best friend body chunks?
     =Don't make excuses for your ADHD stomach.  The baby's ten cells big, he's not craving a damn thing, or you wouldn't be able to show off that slutty point three sized lingerie I'm marrying you for that you probably have on already.  Hey is it just me, or is our conversation paralleling the TV?  Really Kim, what's this green stuff in the fridge?  It looks disgusting.
    -Even if it was purple, that's just as gay as lilac, Joe.  It wasn't the purple power drinks and steroid pills that got Tinky Winky named official top gay teletubie mascot of--
     =It's just you.  Bobby thinks you're a shizophrenic you know.  He told me today in the waiting room for the confirmation results.  He picked up an issue of Maxim, gawked at one of those pop out calendar girls right in front of me, then slapped it down and blurted out "Danny's a schizotronic, you know."  It was cute.  He was so serious, like he was jealous and worried about losing me.  I can never tell if he's having phonics trouble or excluding me from some Danny-Bobby inside joke.
    -Powerade, not power drink.  How many energy drinks come in purple?
     =If that's what he said, then I'm a schizotronic, not a schizophrenic.  And being his babysitter isn't exactly having you to begin with.  Anyway if he wants you, you're all his.  I've been racking my brain all week for an out from this whole baby thing.  This relationship has reached my comitment level; besides, my secret ex-boyfriend wants me to himself.  I never should have agreed to go on a blind date with a mute chinchilla in the first place.  Hey.  Here.
    -I had a purple energy drink once.
     =Hey.  What's this, purple lemonaid?
    -Have you ever had a purple steroid pill?
     =Powerade.  It's grape powerade.  We're out of bottled water.
    -Well, I got drunk once and downed a couple viagra pills instead of the wellbutrin I was reaching for.  Does that count?
     =So you thought my second choice would be a Tinky Winky sports drink?
     =Look, if my beefy color wheel dominance is too much for you to handle, there's still plenty of time to cop out of the marriage.  Though if I did have a drop of girl blood in me, I'd probably comment that my warm color masculine exterior accentuates my good looks and charm.  Though our son can kiss goodbye any hope of being drafted by the NBA if he doesn't get his electrolytes.
    -Look, if my macho soldier camo doesn't clash the lavender enough to sedate you, you can either sign a petition to evict me from the apartment for movie night, or chug your inferior masculinity and watch the movie I rented.
     =That's just fine, 'cause bottled water will be just fine for her olympic figure skating metal.  She won't need any HuckNorrisAde electronytes.
    -Does'e mean chuck?
     =OK, Now our conversation's definitely lining up with the TV.  You don't see that?
    -Dunno.  I only got up to "clash the lavender" and gave up bothering as usual.
     =You're just being schizotronic.  I should probably get a restraining order ahead of time before you start hearing voices to drive me off a cliff.
    -Some things you just gotta accept about people.
     =See?  That totally synched up.  What is this anyway?  Some dumb reality show?
    -Joe, what movie did you pick up?
     =I forget.  Hit info.
    -I forget now.  Your cruel psychotherapudic attack on my sociopathic butch grammar has hypnotized me into the cruel lavender allergy traumas of my inner child youth.
     =See!  You're really not seeing this?  This isn't the right remote, toss me the one to your left; it fell by the litterbox.
    -I'm not touching that one.
     =Go ask the cat to get it for you.
    -I'd give it a shot if I didn't have to explain the difference between grammar and usage first.
     =I'd give it a shot if I didn't have to explain to her the difference between a remote and a poop scooper.
    -When are we going to watch this thing?
     =Oh, now you're just doing it on purpose.  You can't mimic a line after the fact, that's cheating.  What are we going to watch here anyway?  Now that you're here, if I'm gonna watch a lame movie I at least want the chance to bicker about it and go down fighting.  Why don't we watch some kickboxing and I'll fight you senseless for my for my right to rent sappy chick flicks on Friday nights.
    -You know, I was actually allergic to lilacs.  A kid once pushed me in a lilac bush for calling his mom a slut.  I thought the nurse was joking about injecting him with a cure for middle school testosterone but then I realized she was talking about me.
     =Maybe I should give you the red tank, then.
    -Maybe I should give you the tank, then.
     =Okay.  That was weird.  That was like really, really weird.
    -So what movie already?  I thought we agreed on 24 last week.
     =I told you!  It's  been going on since I walked in the door.
    -Nah, better.  I got that new alien shit you were talkin' about the other day.
     =Alright, so stick in a movie.  Something bound not to do anything creepy.
    -Joe, I was saying how bad the reviews were, I didn't say go rent it.
     =So, The Ring then?  The fine print on the label says, "This movie will not actually kill you in seven days, and will only rarely result in transporting you and your gilfriend into the twilight zone."
    -Too late.  We gonna watch it or what?
     =I think our whole relationship has been in the twilight zone.  Put it in.  I'm too freaked out to argue.  I'll just go to bed when the TV starts turning off and on by itself.
    -Joe, I don't think I'm gonna stay for this.
     =You live here now; I suppose you can go to bed when you want, but if you stay up you just might get to go to bed with a hot alpha cardinal.
    -It's your apartment.  Besides, you might get a kiss from a gay flower boy.
    =Alright, I'm definitely seeing it now too.  Maybe we should call Lindsy.
    -I really hope our writer for the night is gay, otherwise a hyperspacial activists rights swat team is probably heading for the apartment as we speak.
    =Why?  If this any kind of freak Area 51 frwoa anomaly, I'm sure they're picking it up.  If it's dangerous they're probably already sending someone over as we speak.
    -Mark what the hell are you talking about?
    =Great.  Just what we need.  Our whole marriage sucked into another half-decade real life sci-fi horror movie.  The first round was bad enough; if we have to suffer through an unoriginal rip off sequel of the whole thing, god help us.
    -Brett was saying that everywhere we go, from some point of view out there in all the vast universe, someone's actually writing our conversation as we speak.  Like our whole movie night is a skit or something on a low-hit website.
    =Been there.  Done that.
    -I bet my writer's gay.  That would explain a whole ton of shit in my life.
    =I bet BK's friter was gay.
    -No argument.
    =Alright, are we going to resolve to tolerate this freaky frwoa anomaly and watch this, or act like a boring couple and flick on the evening news?
    -We gonna watch this or what?  Brett?
    =If after everything we've been through I haven't developed a morbid curiosity for crap like this, I wouln't have survived any of it, so I don't really care.
    -I don't really care.
    =You survived it because your red knight boyfriend who protected you from everything from haunted mansions to cubical death labyrinths to ugly space werewolves.
    =And you're here in full spiderman costume, and I think my pink lingere makes me more of a helpless monster bait damsel than I've ever been before.  Let's go for it.
    -Whatever.  Put it on.  If it's bad enough we can get drunk and pretend that's why it sucks.  There better be a really hot !@#$ing chick in this.  Preferably two.
    =I'll settle for a girl and a gay chinchilla.
    =Is this whole show about a guy and two girls putting on a DVD?
    -It's a sci-fi movie.  It's nerd shit.
    =It's like Mystery Science Theatre meets Logo meets MTV's Cribs.
    -Yah but nerds need to fantasize about hot chicks more than the rest of us.  Right Brett?
    =Why's she named Brett?  Is that short for Bretta?
    -Touche, Mark.  Touche.
    =What's 'touche' mean exactly again?
    -Joe, did you remember to pick up the beer?
    =Beer!  Dan, did you pick up that wine while you were at the liquor store?
    -Aw, shit.  Sorry Mark.  All I got was some lavender pina coladas.
    -Anyway there aren't too many female protagonists.  I mean, Part of the sci-fi/fantasy fantasy is pretending you're the main hero.  A theoretical physics major can't really escape from reality in a...
    =Pink chinchilla cage?
    -Lilac tank?
     =Red-camo Army Viper?
    =So much for the anomaly.
    -You were gonna say lilac tank, weren't you.  But then you held back, because you knew if you made one more top joke around me--seeing how you think I've never made a clever one myself--I'd ditch you for club Beta Male I almost hit tonight instead of watching bad sci-fi movies with you homophobic pricks.
    =Toby says diddo.
    -I never thought I'd see Joe standing up for gay rights.
    =I'm starting to get this.  I think the dialogue is constructed to make you think Jo and Brett are straight guys in a text frwoa medium where you can't see that they're girls, and then at the end it probably shocks you by revealing their full first names.  'Never made a clever one' could refer to tank top, relationship top, joke, tank top joke, or top quality joke.  Club Beta Male could be any sort of club, or a sarcasm that Jo would never go to a club named Beta Male!  Then the comment about gays implies Joe might be gay if he's a guy, which is implied by her name if it's spelt with an 'e'.  But then the next line throws off suspicion implying Joe's straight, but it could also mean that Joe just doesn't take any interest in gay rights.
    -I think it's more like tank top teletubbie rights.  Did we hurt your feelings, Joe?
    =I think you're in you're in that schizotronic overanalyzing mode when you've been watching too much TV.
    -Don't knock teletubbies.  They get to sit and watch tv on their fat asses all day.
    =I think our whole collective frwoa is called "Two Guys, Three Chicks, and a plush Chinchilla Sit On Their Asses And Pray For Something Interesting To Come on TV"
    -The tvs are on their pot bellies, not their asses.  
    -Are you serious?
    =Now the synchotronic thing is back.
    -And why do think they're fat anyway?  It's cuz they don't work out.
    =You're gonna get fat no matter what you do.  Hey that gross spinach in their fridge looks just like the plate in ours!  This is really starting to freak me out.
    -Sit the hell down, Joe.  Let's get this thing over with.  And we're only watching sci-fi because you brought the freaking movie.  I was looking foreward to 24 all day.
    =Spinach?  What are you talking about?  Where you going?  You turning all popeye on me?  If you're turning into Popeye you're gonna have to throw hoops in a different tank.
    -Was that a pun, Brett?
    =Look, I'll show you...
    -Was what a pun?
    =I think this is more support for my evolving proof that you're a schizotronic; you're hallucinating your fiance cooking spinach for you to get more buff.  What are you doing in the kitchen, looking for it?
    -Looking for-- nevermind.  Sigh.  Hey what are you looking for?
    =It's not here!  It was right next to the beer!
    -Wait, you really forgot the beer?
    =I swear to god, there was a plate of disgusting looking spinach in here when I came in.
    -Yah.  Oh look, wait!  There just happens to be some in here that I bought a couple hours ago for this very occasion.  Dear me, perhaps I'm not a purple dinosaur after all.
    =It's gone.  Just gone.  Time to trade my fruity gay tank for a plain vanilla straightjacket.  Hey you want some cherry ice cream?
    -You're still purple.
    =You're just trying to freak me out and contrive your own real life horror frwoa.  I'd object but I'm too tired and helpless to really give a damn.  Get back here, this weird anomaly is still going on.  I need my red knight in shining cardinal armour.  I'm cold.
    -I'm lost.
    =If anyone's contriving a horror frwoa, I'm as stuck in it as you are.  And even if I were, I wouldn't dare loosen a killer swamp monster on you while you're in your flimsy armor, that's just too tactless and cliche.  I'd at least give you some plate mail or a chainsaw.
    -I think our writer just screwed up or something.
    =Maybe our friter messed up and miswrote the spinach into scene one, then erased it.  Or maybe it was a begram glitch and wasn't supposed to be there in the first place.  Kick the fridge, maybe it'll come back.
    -Wrh meeb som prghrrm.  Orshrum cahmny.
    =Does that have subtitles?  Put them on, I can't hear what they're saying.  Here's your water, I found it, I don't know why I didn't see it before.
    =Maybe your invisible spinach-mush eating aliens misfired their cloak gun and hit the water instead of their lunch they were using the fridge to keep cold.
    -Sorry, I was krunching some pizza.  It's hard to chew up, I think I'm already fantasizing about the dead brark body chunk toppings.
    =Krunch!  Look!  Krunch!  With a K!  Kyle's friends say that to him; they fused 'Kyle', 'munch,' 'brunch', and 'lunch', because he's always eating at weird times.  There's definitely something freaky going on.  It's some type of interactive anomaly.  We should really call Lindsy now.
    -You should know better than to multi-task, Joe.  I think talking and fetching the beer is two more things you're already capable of focusing on.  Why don't you let us do the pizza-krunching, or sit down for Crissake.  Or were you trying to engage in the brilliant radical creative linguistics of Brett's five hundredth masters degree?
    =Probably a typo.  
    -I did understand one vowel.
    =But the K isn't anywhere near the C on the ceyboard.
    -I said, we need some popcorn.  Or some candy.
    =So someone misspelt crunch, big deal.
    -Is that what they usually feed you in the pumped Barney gym locker room after the jumping jacks and summersaults?
    -Can we watch this?... Thanks, Joe.  I--Aww, come on.  Did you shake this up?!
    -Sorry, I meant to shake the pina coladas, not the beer.  Or maybe I'm just too strong.  You're lucky.  Just think how pumped I'd be without a lavender tank.
    =I wonder if we'd have to start making love if we skipped to a sex scene.
    -Just put it on, Joe.
    =Just take it off, Kim.
    -Ok.  How do I use this thing again?  I'm kinda confused, there's no purple power light.  It--oh wait!  I get it!  Looking foreward all day to 24!
    -What do you--Joe, that was like twenty freaking minutes ago.
    =What a dumbass.
    -What a dumbass.
    -At least I'm a lavendar dumbass.
    =Why'd she actually say 'sigh'?
    -Would you stop that Brett?
    -That thing where you say stuff that you'd normally send over a chat board to show what your moods are.  You're right here, I don't need you to tell me your sighing.
    -First of all, you might not be looking.  Second, the human pscyhe is very complex.  I could be feeling something entirely different on the inside than what I let show through my usual nerdy intellectual extroversion.
    =Like my inaudible scheming to figure out how I'm going to get you out of the apartment and Toby into bed with me.
    =Oh so now Toby's a girl?
    =I think he's a closet transsexual.  I think I've noticed the signs for awhile now in the back of my mind but haven't really admitted it to myself.
    -Brett's reaching out to us Mark.
    ="Danny's been grasping for straws to suppress his fruity wardrobe, Ms. Therapist, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to find another boyfriend if you can't heal his subconscious desire to sleep with my pet chinchilla."
    -I think someone needs a hug from a Lavendar the Teletubbie.
    =I think someone needs a hug from Toby the Transexual Chinchilla.
    =Cheating again.
    =Pause ||
    =The suspense heightens.  Maybe we should hit Skip Scene in case the Ring comes on their television.
    =Unless we're at the very end of the scene and going to the next one will just jump a few seconds ahead and go right to the start of the movie.
    =Maybe if we hit it simultaneously enough, it will just drop us out from every frwoa medium our story's being told in and leave an indefinite cliffhanger if and when it'll ever be picked up again.
    =Hope not.  You're gonna protect me from every mush monster that comes until I get the recipe for that veggie dish.
    =What do you think, Toby?
    =Toby doesn't have anything to say to you.  You've insulted his masculinity and sexual identity.  He just wants us to finish the movie and get to bed.
    =Yawn.  Did you guys just say something?  Sorry I was taking a nap.  Strangest dream about aliens, missing spinach-mush, and a skit-prose frwoa that started right when you got home with a ton of plot holes that may never be resolved if you hit any kind of frwoa anomaly in the next few lines.
    =Don't talk for Toby.
    =No, Toby's a double ventriloquist, see?  He's making it sound like I'm throwing my voice.
    =We doing this?
    =Alright, unpause, and click forward right when they put their movie in.
    =Here goes nothing.
    =Why'd you say 'click'?
    -I heard it click, I don't need you to say click.
    =Check back soon for the rest of the Blorkk.com Area 51 depth 7 frwoa everybody!
    =What the hell is Blorkk?
    =I think Toby knows something we don't.
    =Skip >>|

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