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Sara: What you are looking at here is "money" / <<chh.>> / Sara: It can be exchanged for goods and services
[[She is in the parlor of a pagan-outfitted woman, who is examining a photo of Sara, Fucking Julie (with arrows pointing to her), and a third party. Background: "Eye of Newt Valu-Pak."]] / Sara: In THIS case, the service of putting a big ol' hex on FUCKING JULIE! I was thinking something that would make her ooze pus in meetings. This is a process known as "maximizing utility."
Woman (icily): So you basically think us Wiccans are only good for CURSING people. / Sara: Well I can't imagine what else!
Woman: What you need is an EDUCATION - the first principle of magick, which frankly you are not ready for WHATSOEVER - is this: any spell you cast comes back at you THREEFOLD - we should start with fundamentals / * "Magick" pronounced so you can hear the "ck", here. However you pull that off. / Sara: Yes. Money. Good. Service.
Woman: Hold on
Woman: The Goddess has blessed me with a vision / Sara: Of basic customer relations?
Woman: I know the path now.
Woman: You are tragically out of balance. Divorced from the earth and sky for far too long - I must reform your wicked spirit, my sister - I will not leave your side until my task is complete. / [[She puts her hands on Sara's cheecks.]] / Sara: No - NO - less customer relations - LESS!
One Fortnight Later.
[[Conference room.]] / Bachman: Okay, all -- wait. Where's Peterson? Is she with that "spiritual advisor" of hers again? / Sara (off-panel): COMING
[[All participants in the meeting, especially Bachman, the leader, are nonplussed.]]
[[Sara strolls into the room. Her face is covered with markings, she reeks, and she has a butterfly decoration on her head and amulets hanging under her jacket.]]
Bachman: OK how do I say this without violating diversity -- fuck it. Are those RUNES on your face? Don't tell me those are runes. Seriously. Runes.
Sara: It's worse than you know, Bachman - they're in HENNA / Two employees: OOOOH!
[[At Sara's cubicle, the woman has Wicca'd up the area with incense, potions, diagrams, etc. She is sitting on the desk.]] / * Homeopathic! / Woman: Your spiritual progress may be slow, but it's steady! / Sara (crying): WHY-HY-HY don't you just go AWAY / [[Fucking Julie looks on cannily.]]
[[Fucking Julie enters a room, where a contented guru-type takes her money with one hand and bats around a Sara voodoo doll full of pins. He is also watching American Gladiator.]] / <<thap thap thap thap / Fucking Julie: One step ahead of you, Fucking Sara! / * 2/22/2K8 BBolt converts to hex.
Bachman: And WHY do you keep using the word "fortnight" in market reports? / <<thap>>
don't you know she's a / CYNICAL GIRL / * You can see that it is drippy cynicism. / Jane: MEH! / [[Jane startles Sarah.]]
Sara: "Meh"? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? / Jane: Means I'm cynical now!
Sara: You? / Jane: Yes! Cynical face! See? I've seen it all! Veni, vidi, vomitori! Or some shit, Latin geeks can suck my dick.
Sara: I am not sure I am buying this. / Jane: DON'T EVEN FRONT! Your cynical little post is NOTHING compared to my all-encompassing disillusionment! I see RIGHT through you!
Sara: But... you... just... started... being... cynical? / Jane: I'm a natural! Watch.
[[She holds up Wufkins the puppy puppet.]] / Jane: Observe.
Sara: Hey! Wufkins! / Jane: OR, "How slave labor convinces a commercial machine unit that there's still a little girl somewhere inside her"
Jane: See? Truth hurts! / Sara: WUHHH / [[She throws Wufkins at the bawling Sara.]] / <<thap>>
Truth brings it! / Jane: You aren't special. You'll never BE special! Just an ORDINARY man with ordinary values and an ordin- / Beans: BUH huh huh / Jane: Too easy!
[[Jane walks into Raoul's living room, where he is reading a newspaper.]] / <<Intrude!>> / Jane: Ya know
Jane: The world isn't going to fall down around your ears - it just makes you feel special to think so!
[[She strides out.]] / Jane: HA!
[[Raoul throws up his hands.]]
[[At a bar, a guy next to her possibly making a move.]] / Jane: Cliché,
[[Fighting Skeleton Warrior in a dirty alley with a chainsaw.]] / <<BRAAA>> / Jane: cliché, / * mmm Chinese
[[In a hospital bed with a bandaged arm-stump; Beans holds flowers.]] / Jane: cliché!
[[With her right hand gone, in a declamatory sunset-framed pose.]] / Jane: OhKAY - that's enougha THAT noise - on to the next big thing!
[[Prancing around a meadow in an anteater suit with a picnic basket.]]
[[Climbing up an office building with suction cups.]]
[[Falconing on a mesa.]]
[[Driving an ice cream truck off a ramp. "Ice Tweets." In this activity and all of the above, she has continued to wear a scowl.]]
[[With a harpoon in the park. Raoul on a bench reading.]] / Jane: GODDAMMIT nothing's sticking! This is crap.
Jane: Any ideas? You have ideas. / Raoul: Right - thanks.
Raoul: I think it's that cynical kick of yours. / Jane: The one that's OVER?
Raoul: Right. It's stuck. Which happens.
Jane: So what do I do? / Raoul: Nothing, / Jane: NOTHING? / Raoul: Well - there is something.
for the next five months. / [[Jane is on a computer posting a comment on a blog or forum or something. No other lights in the room, the clock reads 4:12.]] / Jane's post: (posted by: JDoe) PoopDickNuts, allow me to list the reasons why your comment was a waste of my tim... (Preview) / Jane (thinks): MOTHERfuck. / * 5/14/2K8 BBolt has no use for the real world.
Oh snap! The French refute your arguments!
Au Contraire mon Frere
[[Sara and Beans are both reading the Sunday New York Times. Beans is livid, shaking his fist.]] / Beans: Stupid Brooks! How can such a TRANSPARENT IDIOT be published in the New York Times, while I languish in obscurity? / Sara: Because you misunderstand the nature of the enterprise.
Sara (didactic): The point of the newspaper op-ed is NOT to be a source of sensible solutions - it's to proffer provocative opinions, engendering a state of constant agitation CONDUCIVE to REGULAR CONSUMPTION OF THE NEWS!
Diabolical op-ed writer: Hee hee hee!
Sara: Cable news operates on a similar model. / [[She displays as evidence a TV showing a yelling pundit pointing his finger at the camera. Ticker: "BLAH BLAH BLAH"]]
Sara: And you just proved how well it works! / Beans: Ooooh!
Beans: But but but but
Beans: ANY bowtie-wearing HALFWIT can write meaningless contrarian BULLSHIT! / <<thap>>
[[Sara looks at Beans thoughtfully.]]
[[Beans is in the basement, with a black eyem a band-aid, and a bowtie, shackled to the wall at a bare table with a typewriter.]] / Beans: I really need to think through the implications of what I say before I say them.
Beans: Why not just go all the way and use kids? / Sara: Meet Phung Loc, your supervisor. / Phung Loc: I get use whip!
Two Weeks Later:
[[Sara is on the phone, sitting at a desk strewn with euros.]] / * Sara rolls euro-style, like Jay-Z. / Sara: Yes - no - look, we'll get to it - we're not currently set up for ten columns a week
Sara: Supply and demand's a bitch!
[[Sara notices Jane walk by, munching a pair of jeans.]] / Jane: nom nom nom nom
[[Sara unscrews a bottle of chloroform (or "Chlor -O- Form"), sneaks up on Jane, and renders her unconscious.]]
Sara: Wow - that was fun! Like I actually got to --
Sara: Oh fuck me - I'm feeling post-ironically joyful about living out pop culture in real left - I've been hanging around that Beans twit way too long!
[[Sara and an interviewer are dining at a ritzy place. Visible through the picture window is a building with the sign "Opinions America."]] / Interviewer: Well, Ms. Peterson - Opinions America (tm) has proven to be quite successful, even revolutionary
Interviewer: Do you ever feel that your business approach interferes with the flow of ideas in this nation? / Sara: Ha ha well - oh / [[She pauses as the waiter comes, bearing a pair of jeans on a platter. He sets them afire briefly, then serves them. They commence chowing down. Once they have started, Sara resumes talking.]]
Sara: The marketplace of ideas, you'll find - it's a very resilient thing!
[[We see Jane, also shackled and be-bowtied, in the basement. Phung Loc is carrying a pair of jeans on a stick.]] / Jane: They can't take away all my fun! / Phung Loc: Lunch rations! / * 1/30/2K8 BBolt writes a letter to the editor. With cussin' an' 9/11 conspiracy theories!
[[Sara reaches, enraged, for Jane.]]
<<WHOMMM>> / [[The walls shatter.]]
Slim: Aight Jason this is as far as I go. The way these things work I'ma get my black ass killed any second now / Jason Cheung: Slim, you are a wise-- / [[Sara whistles.]]
[[In the blink of an eye, Slim has been eaten up by a huge bear.]]
Sara: Note to self - acquire TWO hungry bears / * Today, in Bushido.com, in the red corner, weighing in at 225 lbs., a master of muay thai, boxing, and Brazilian jiu jitsu. In the blue corner, weighing in at 2000 lbs., a racist bear.
[[Jason Cheung commences fighting with the remaining henchman.]] / Jane: So, I'm guessing Plan B is where I turn you in to the po-pos for, presumably, cash money / Sara: HA
Sara: FAT CHANCE! / <<Shing!>> / [[She pulls out an overelaborate fantasy-esque blade, with an extra piece chained to the end, and then turns to stare at it.]]
Sara: What the fuck am I supposed to do with this thing? / <<jingle>
[[Jane is also nonplussed.]]
Jane: HEY JASON - how do I turn Sara in to the po-pos you didn't tell me that part / <<whap>>
Jane: I suppose we are at an impasse. / Sara: A stupid impasse!
[[Jane is lying in the yard; Sara is examining a manual.]]
Jane: Well my ace in the hole should be coming any minute now, so THPPPT / Sara: Ah, but does your "ace" come before I finish reading this handy user manual?
[[Jason Cheung stands over the defeated henchman, and uses a walkie-talkie.]] / Jason Cheung: I have DEFEATED the boss! Commence roundup operation - over
[[A boat has come ashore. Asian-looking police are with Jason Cheung.]] / Policeman: Your unorthodox style has proven highly effective - Lieutenant! / Jason Cheung: I am honored! / Policewoman: Tee hee
<<BWOONK>> / Sara: Wait - is that a BOAT?
[[The police drag out her "friends" and henchmen]] / Sara: Everybody's leaving the operation my sitcom friends everybod-- / Jane: Head down - they're being captured yo
Sara: What do you care? / Jane: When crafting Plan B I failed to consider my instinctive revulsion to all things of and pertaining to the MAN and his works - especially -
Jane: LEGAL PROCESSING
[[Sara watches the boat leave.]] / <<BWOONT>>
Sara: Well, it's not like I don't still own a frickin' ISLAND. Lemme make a few calls.
[[She pulls out her cell phone.]]
Phone: Looking for signal.]]
[[Sara walks around trying to get a signal. It starts getting old.]]
After three months or so / [[Jane and Sara are stuck in a tree fending off a bear. Box of grubs. Jane has a spear.]] / Jane: This genre change sucks DICK / Sara: I will escape this island in a coffin - raise ANOTHER fortune - become, like, a senator - and in 20 years - REVENGE - on VERIZON / But that's another story right / * perpetrated 11/6/2K8 by the highly trained BBolt.
4200 A.D. / [[The kitty Jane wronged returns to the island in a legged UFO as part of an invasion.]] / * Too late for alien ex machina woops fucking relativity.
BIRDS WILL SING - part two / * Love finds a way!
[Monday!] / Jane: He's the ONE, SARA! / Sara, at workstation: what. / Motivational poster: Proactive optimize
[Tuesday!] / Jane: I've found true love! / Sara, watching TV: Good.
[Wedsnesday] / Jane: How's this dress? / Shower curtain: <<WSH!>> / Sara: GOD! / Shower: <<Tssss>>
[Thursday!] / Jane: Oh Sara he's the ONE! / Sara: buhhh / Bedside clock: 4:30
Sara, having an epiphany: He MUST be the one.
Sara: I've never felt compelled to break up one of Jane's relationships before! / Clock: 6:15
[[Sara, stalking around in a nightgown]] / Sara: Compile your assets, Sara. / Sara: What have you got?
[Check] / My own personal action. / Sara's personal action: <<DING>> / [Not an actual sound]
[[Another choose-your-own-adventure, as Sara imagines having to either actually sleep with the Beans-alike or is kidnapped and threatened with execution in the name of 'Twue Wuv' by a scarf-over-mouth wearing Jane]] / Sara: ...so not worth it. / * I'm a jihadi for love!
[Check] / [[Beans is sat in the corner, surrounded by paintings and notes alternating between 'she loves me' and ' loves me NOT.']] / Sara: A gibbering psycho.
[[With a fanfare and a blaze of glory, Sara's conscience appears and frowns]]
Jane, getting the drop on Sara yet again: SARA oh Sara I have a HUGE favor to ask can Eugene move in? His apartment sucks can he live with us? / Eugene, sans pants: Yeah.
Sara and Sara's Conscience: Fuck it. / *Among other things, Sara is resolutely anti-briefs.
[Friday!] / [[Beans, wallowing in his own filth (included a half-eaten chicken leg) sees a note being shoved under his door]] / Note: Kill for Jane
[Saturday!] / [[Beans turns to his window, on which Sara is scrawling a note in marker. Note that the 'f' is inverted]] / Note: Kill for Jane.
[Sunday!] / [[Beans awakens as Sara leaves the room, having left him a surprise]] / Cake: It's your birthday! KILL
[Monday] / [[Beans looks under his pillow to find yet another note]] / Note with picture of happy Jane on it: Kill for me! [heart] / * Please note that neither Jane, Sara or Raoul need to be so extensively manipulated to become psycho killers.
[[The living room, as Sara watches TV with a bag of popcorn and Beans staggers past with a sniper rifle]] / Beans: There's there's there's something I gotta do Sara time to go / Sara: Gloves and plastic bags, B / Beans: yup yup
Sara: Wait a second.
Sara: HEY PSYCHO Eugene's THAT way in the next room all you need is an icepick. / Sara: Crap.
Sara: Goddammit! / George Bush on TV: Some people say this country got problems.
George Bush, being shot in the head on TV: Ah say, blurk!
Sara: NO, BEANS! / Palm on forehead: <<WHAP>> / Sara: Not George Bush!
Dick Cheney on TV: Americans, our enemies are everywhere. We have no choice. The missiles launch in ten minutes. / News ticker: ALERT ALERT ALERT
Transmission cutting off: <<B e e e e e p>>
Sara: No, Dick Cheney! Not Global Thermonuclear War!
[[Mushroom clouds rise over a ruined cityscape]]
[[A cave with a fire]] / Sara, tying knives to sicks to make spears: Okay, what I want to know is how all three of us managed to survive that shit. / Jane, roasting dog over open fire: It's the power of love! / Eugene, vomiting into a paper bag: <<HURF>> / Bird:<<Tweet>> / [NOBODY SCORES!]
* BBolt owes it all to the power of love.
[[Jane and Sara at a posh restaurant. They see a prom couple at a nearby table.]] / Sara: Cuteness! / Jane: Aw man - that brings back the most awesome memories
Thus / Nobody Scores! Proudly Presents / The Only Teenage Story That Matters / PROM COUP / girl you know it's true
Featuring the People's Revolutionary Front of Motherfuckers / "Big Dog" / [[Teenage Jane, flipping the finger at the camera, dangling a pistol in a finger.]] / Jane: Anarchy!
"Che" / [[Nerdy-looking guy with a tear drop coming from his eye, in a black jumpsuit with bandana and rifle.]] / Che: Revenge!
"Mad Kicks" / [[Nondescript guy with backwards cap and rifle.]] / Mad Kicks: Nobody ever calls me "Mad Kicks."
"Apeshit" / [[A big, short fellow with a shaven head carrying two guns.]] / Apeshit: Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh
"Joan of Arc" / [[A teenaged Sara, in camo and prepping a pistol.]] / Sara: I'm raising awareness!
[[Nondescript prom night, themed "Remember the Magic." Various scenes of awkwardness, frivolity, drinking, and corny photography.]] / * This is exactly what my prom picture looks like.
<<BOOOOOOM>> / <<cough hack cough cough confusion>> / [[Jane and Apeshit wave their guns around with bandanas over their faces.]] / Attendees: EEEEEEEEEE Al Qaeda gonna blow up our prom! oh shit why god why / Jane: GET DOWN SUCKAS it's PROM COUP TIME / Apeshit: PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND WAVE 'EM like you just been STUCK THE FUCK UP!
Che: HELL yes! / Mad Kicks: Gimme that crown! / Prom king: moan / [[Sara, masked, goes up to microphone]] / Sara: Ahem?
Jane: FAKE TANS to the LEFT EXTENSIONS to the right the revolutionary order ain't got all DAY peoples / Sara: Ahem?
Sara: We're the People's Revolutionary Front of Motherf-fuckers and we w-wanted to bring to the forefront the soc-social disparities that, that pervade the / * Balloons... floating free! Truly this is madness
Che (off-panel): I FINALLY FOUND YOUR MONKEY ASS ANDY REILLY / Sara: A-and by doing this we
[[Che is aiming a gun at the head of an attendee.]] / Che: Don't think you DIDN'T HAVE THIS COMING you you you / Apeshit: Dude, "Che." / Jane: Dude.
[[He pulls the trigger. Andy Reilly sheds a tear, then a drop rolls down his cheek from somewhere else. Apeshit slaps his forehead disgustedly.]] / Apeshit: Dude. / Jane: DUDE.
[[The attendees are suddenly angry and aggressive. Riot police appear behind them. The Front is spotlighted. Che fires his "gun" and more water shoots out. Apeshit throws away his. Jane tears off her bandana and makes a fist. Sara and Mad Kicks were apparently starting to dance in the prom king and queen crowns.]] / Apeshit: Yyeap.
[[They are encircled by the pigs. Sara is weeping, while Jane throws up the horns.]]
[[they are all sitting on a bench in jail, hands cuffed behind them, all miserable (Sara is crying) except Jane.]] / Jane: hee hee hee
[[In an interrogation room, Jane continues to resist wildly.]]
[[Back in the cell, Jane now has a cast on her arm. Horns again.]] / Loudspeakers: GIRL YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE OO / * You can see that Jane has mellowed over the years. Like, barely, but still! Oh you don't believe me.
[[Back in the restaurant. Jane is dewy-eyed. Sara has crumpled down in her seat.]] / Jane: That was a MAGICAL evening / Sara: memories! / * 4/16/2K8 BBolt saves the last dance.
comics tribute week ends here! I will get to "Mary Worth" next time.
B THE LAST MAN / [[Title illo: Beans with a monkey on his back.]]
TV: And, in today's top story, every male in the world is DEAD! / Sara and Jane: Holy shit!
Jane: That's gonna suck! / Sara: Hmm. EVERY male? This could be overblown. Like they say...
[[Sara is pounding on Raoul's door with a sledgehammer.]] / Sara: Trust, but verify!
Sara: What do you know. Spontaneous decapitation. / [[Book on the floor besides decapitated Raoul: Ulysses]] / * Comics geek joke or English major joke. Nobody scores, but you always have a choice!
Sara: Yup. It's like they said. / Jane: Man, this has like implications and shit! / [[Beans rounds a corner.]] / Beans: What implications?
Sara: Without any surviving males we'll all go extinct, for starters. / Beans: Without--WHAT? / Jane: God, what am I gonna do for FUN anymore? There's always drugs I guess. / * Kids, Jane Doe is not a role model! Sara is.
Beans: I'm a surviving male! / Jane: Or religion. / Sara: I think God would be happier if you stick to drugs. / Jane: Ahh you're probably right.
Beans: I'm a surviving male! / Sara: Oh, hey Beans. / Jane: Sup dude.
Beans: I'm the LAST MAN ON EARTH! / * Insert echoes to taste.
Sara: You SURE?
Jane: I dunno. There could be some sort of defect. / Sara: Yeah, I always suspected Beans was a hermaphrodite or something. / Beans: AAUGH!
[[Beans drops trou.]] / Beans: There! Fine! GAH! See? / <<drop!>> / * Tone of voice is, of course, everything for this panel.
[[Jane and Sara look analytically.]]
Sara: Erm. / Jane: That's sort of vaguely the usual shape. / Beans: AIEEE!
Sara: We could always throw 'im in a basement and see if we can get us a working sperm bank. / Jane: I guess it's worth a shot. / * I read like six Y: The Last Man trade paperbacks and nobody fuckin' thinks of this once.
[[Jane walks into the bare basement bearing porn. Beans sits glumly at a table with four jars.]] / Jane: So I don't know, are you into stuff where people dress up in like bunny suits? That was my first guess. / * 11/11/2K6 BBolt rises to the double entendre. / NOBODY SCORES! / Woman: Heterosexist! / Um, sorry.
presenting THE GREAT MASTERS / [[Outside the duplex, Beans sports a gi, while Sara returns from shopping.]] / Beans: My BLACK BELT! / Sara: What, are you in a play or something? / Beans: Right. No, this belt means I have mastered AIKIDO!
Beans: The art of nonviolent combat! I use the hatred of the aggressor against them through superior spiritual awareAWF
[[Beans's face meets a fist with a melodious <ding!>]]
Beans: Going... black... tell... sensei... I... / Raoul: Man, you see some of that shit, doesn't matter how many degrees you hold... You just GOT to break out some of the ol' flatfoot style.
Sara: Really. / Raoul: Ohh yeah I scored a few knockouts back in the day. Now, especially if you're a smart guy in the hood, you got to – / * Yeah, Raoul's on some Giles ish.
[[Raoul is tackled from behind.]] / Raoul: AUGH!
Raoul: WHAT the HELL was THAT?! / Biff: Aw yeah VICTORY AGAIN! / * It's Biff!
Raoul: Terrorist! Where the hell did you come from? My joints just aged ten years in five seconds. / Biff: I AM THE ULTIMATE FIGHTING MACHINE! I go where the competition is! I don't waste my time! I train only in real arts!
Sara: Don't go for the random meatheads, fella, if that's what you're – / Biff: Bring me your Kung Fools! Your karoddy masters – your Bruce Lees yearning to eat dirt! My combination of real Brazilian jiu jitsu and Muay Thai will... / * A little know side effect of the Brazilian jiu jitsu is it makes you talk like a pro wrestler all the time. Totally true!
[[Biff tries to continue his train of thought.]]
Jane: Gotta work on that speech more dude. / Biff: Hey, you bring someone who can school me, I'll make my speech all nice.
[[Biff has been pounded so far into the ground that he's ruptured a water line.]] / Jane: Outline tomorrow. / Biff: Where... where did you study? I... must... know...
[[A polaroid of The Courtney Love School of Just Hauling Off on a Motherfucker]]
[[A polaroid of The Bjork Dojo: Spontaneous Apeshit Combat!]] / * This is the part of the strip where I use graphic motifs to confuse and stun my under-25 readers who are maybe a bit hazy on Ms. Love's combat abilities.
Jane: Only from the best! / Sara: Well this has been curious.
Jane: Looks like only you an' me standing! / Sara: Don't even.
[[Jane smiles. She is definitely about to even.]]
[[A courtroom! Raoul, Beans, and Biff are in the seats, in various forms of convalescence.]] / Jane: Even kung fu such as mine is useless without a trained lawyer! / Sara: Suck my injunction, bitch! / Sara's lawyer: Now calling the 16th expert witness for the plaintiff... / Nobody Scores! / * 9/7/2k6 BBolt will let you try his Dershowitz style.
Sara: I scored! / Sara's lawyer: Miss Peterson, your legal bill.
SAY IT WITH ME IF YOU KNOW THE WORDS
Sara: Yawn / *Gin and tonic hangover.
Sara gets out of bed and goes into the living room, where she is horrified to see Jane lying on the sofa – with a snake.
Beans: GET that motherfucking SNAKE off that motherfucking JANE!
Beans and Jane have some quality yuks.
The joke dawns upon Sara.
Sara retreats to the safety of her bed.
*8/25/2K6 BBolt did not make a Snakes on a Plane joke. He made a joke about Snakes on a Plane jo-- / *Sara: Meta means you die twice. / *Oh.
[[Jane's bedroom door, closed. Record poster (sleeve?): "Bonethug -n- Harmony".]] / Jane (from behind the door): MUHHNNNN GODdamn
[[Beans on the couch playing a video game.]] / <<pew pew headshot>> / Jane (off-panel): You know, Jello shots, I was done with that shit when I was fourteen, I said
[[Jane enters. Her entire mouth is rotated 90 degrees to the left.]] / <<respawn pew pew>> / Jane: And Summer says "But have you had the Jello Pudding Pop shot experience I got these 1987 vintage from eBay we can get fucked up Bill Cosby style" - and, yup - Iii feel like shit. / [[Beans glances up.]]
[[Beans has scrambled madly off the couch, upsetting cushions and TV in his haste, and is cowering at the edge of the room.]] / Jane: What?
Nobody Scores in the Uncanny Valley.
[[Beans holds a mirror up for Jane.]] / Jane: Okay - that is - um - / Beans: I know what you did.
Jane: Whatever. I should get to enjoy my twenties without mysterious shit enfuckulating my anatomy - I have simple desires / Beans: You drank yourself - smack into the UNCANNY VALLEY!
Jane: But I always do that / Beans: Nononono - the Uncanny Valley is where things get just close enough to real to be seriously disturbing / [[Illustrative pictures of a sex doll, a stuffed animal, and a US bank.]]
[[He places his hands on Jane's shoulders concernedly.]] / Beans: What I don't know is how to cure it! / [[Jane goggles. It's happened to him, too.]]
[[She cowers ten feet away.]] / Jane: AAAAAA - stop TALKING
[[Mirror.]] / Beans: Oh, NO.
Intermission! / [[Miniatures of Jane and Beans trying to cope with their situation physically, i.e., the ways and means of drinking from cups.]]
Sara: I sense shenanigans I do not want further information about / Jane: Sara we need your help
Sara: EEEEEE further information further information
Jane: We've decided we can only reverse this by consuming more Jell-O Pudding Pop shots! Reapplying the catalyst only makes sense to us. / Beans: I play video games! / Jane: BUT. There is only one remaining stockpile of Jell-O Pudding Pops in the United States. / * Sara also reacts violently to expository dialogue.
[[Jane grasps Sara's shoulders.]] / Jane: We need your dirty cunning and your dirty money. / Sara: But-
[[It's happened to her.]] / Sara: ...why should I help you FREAKS?
[[Wearing face masks, they march to Sara's car.]] / Sara: I will help you. Then I will kill you. At an unspecified date. You will not see it comin- / Jane: We know
Synth music! / [[Action montage: White van. Grappling hook. Motorboat pursued by choppers. High-five. Pudding pops and smiling Bill Cosbys.]]
[[They still have twisted mouths, plus three-fingered hands and hideous tails.]] / Beans: I'm pretty sure we made it out of the Uncanny Valley at least! / Jane: Yay us we technically win
[[Another Bill Cosby framed by:]] / The End!
* 6/18/2K9 BBolt is just a little bit off.
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