INTRO
AMIR: Hey, you're watching Jake and Amir! See, I told you we didn't need Jake. Wait-- you're not still recording, are you? ...Noooo!
[Various CollegeHumor employees, Jake and Amir included, are gathered in a group, watching Will consume a plate of human feces.]
WILL: And there you have it! Three pounds of human shit in two minutes.
[Everybody but Jake claps. Will takes a bow and rejoins the spectators.]
JAKE: Boo! Boo, right? Is that not a "boo"?
[Streeter steps up.]
STREETER: Alright, let's keep it going for Will! Hey-- that's what I call a shit-eatin' grin!
[Everybody but Jake laughs.]
WILL: It's true!
STREETER: Alright, next up, we have... Amir!
[Amir steps up and shakes Streeter's hand. There is sparse clapping.]
AMIR: Ahh, thank you Streeter! Please don't eat me!
STREETER: [laughs] Nice! Nice.
AMIR: "Nice"? You mean "rice", or so you wish!
[Streeter yanks his hand away.]
STREETER: [quietly] Come on.
[Streeter rejoins the spectators.]
AMIR: So! [chuckles, waves] The name's Amir, but you can call me Jake--
JAKE: Please don't.
AMIR: --and, uh... who here has a guess as to what my talent is?
[Amir's coworkers begin yelling at him.]
COWORKER 1: Kill yourself!
AMIR: No. Okay!
COWORKER 2: Leave.
AMIR: Stop that.
COWORKER 3: Boo! Boo. You suck.
AMIR: Jake? Help?
JAKE: Guys, I know Amir gets on everybody's nerves, okay, but... he's up there trying to share a talent with us, so... that takes some level of courage, I guess. Let's just give him our respect--
AMIR: My talent is slam poetry, and my passion is sticking it to South America.
JAKE: Nope. They're right. Boo. Leave.
[Amir holds up his construction-paper cards.]
AMIR: "Uruguay: you are a gay."
JAKE: Awful. Mean-spirited, small-minded, homophobic, hateful, slanderous, thoughtless, careless--
AMIR: "P--" okay-- "Peru: P.U." [waves his hand in front of his nose] And, uh, "Brazil: you can--" [flips cards] "--go to hil." ..."go to hell." Okay, feel free to not hold your applause to the end.
JAKE: They're not doing that.
AMIR: "Nicaragua: I need more agua." ...So.
JAKE: You know that's Central America, not South.
AMIR: It's south of America, and I urge you to stay silent until I'm done.
JAKE: You just urged everyone else to applaud.
AMIR: "Jamaica, mon: how 'bout you make a mon? Or are you too high?"
COWORKER 4: Get off the stage, nerd.
AMIR: How is this fair? Okay? I was the one making fun of other people, and now, like-- they're making fun of me!
JAKE: I think that's, like, the definition of "fair", buddy.
AMIR: I have several more, each one funnier than the last, but just by a show of hands, who wants me to stop?
[Everybody raises their hand.]
AMIR: Okay, who wants me to stop, but sort of sees that there's potential in this idea, and with a mentor and a page-two rewrite, can actually win this frickin' talent show?
[Everybody lowers their hand.]
AMIR: Sheep! You guys are all sheep! [pointing at coworkers] Moo, moo...
[Streeter comes up to escort Amir away.]
AMIR: ...and especially moo.
STREETER: Ok-- Alright. [shoves Amir away] Okay! Well, that was awkward. So, if there's, uh, no other talents, then I think we can declare a winn-
[Jake steps up.]
JAKE: Sorry, "no other talents"? [laughs] Your winner's right here, 'cause J-Witz knows how to beatbox!
[Jake begins a beatboxing performance that consists mostly of motorboat noises and strained breathing sounds. Streeter dances along in support, but nobody else enjoys it.]
EVERYBODY: Boo! Boo!
JAKE: Okay, that's it! Will, a pound of your shit. Right now. Get it over here.
WILL: Yes, sir!