INTRO
AMIR: Hey, you're watching Jake and Amir. Who needs Jake? [laughing, then crying] Where is he?
[Jake is in an office room, on his phone. Amir materializes from nothing into the chair beside him.]
AMIR: Oh hey there!
JAKE: Jesus Christ, dude!
AMIR: What?
JAKE: What are you?
AMIR: Been thinking a bit about poster ideas; thought I could run a few by you.
JAKE: Poster ideas.
AMIR: Yeah.
JAKE: Don't you think we're scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point?
AMIR: I think I can make 'em funny!
AMIR: We should come up with a ratings system. So instead of you saying, like, "this is good, this is bad", you'll be like "this is amber, this is taupe".
JAKE: So taupe is bad?
AMIR: No no no, taupe is great. Amber is just better than that, and if something is ultimate, it's gray.
AMIR: It's a poster of Jordan, right-- Air Jordan, probably-- and he's soaring through the sky and slammin' it home! [putting his hand on Jake's shoulder]
JAKE: Stop touching me.
AMIR: Pretty--
JAKE: Pretty unoriginal.
AMIR: Pretty forcefully. Is what I was gonna say. Don't taint my ideas with your negative shit feedback... Christ!
AMIR: Uh, it's a poster of dank weed, you know, like sticky bud, and there's, like, a girl in a bikini.
JAKE: Alright. Taupe.
AMIR: Pretty good. Agreed.
JAKE: That's the lowest I could rate it.
AMIR: Huh?
AMIR: [taps Jake's shoulder] Alright, it's a poster of a clock, right--
JAKE: Don't touch me.
AMIR: --but instead of the hour marks, it's little beers... except at six o'clock, it's a little ears. 'Cause listen up! It's beer-thirty! And I'm thirsty!
JAKE: That's the only time that it wouldn't be beer-thirty. It would be ear-thirty.
AMIR: Amber.
JAKE: ...How dare you.
AMIR: See if you can wrap your twat around this one: it's a psychedelic black-light poster for a little band I like to call... the Grateful Dead! [pulls a constipated-looking face]
JAKE: That's a really horrible face-- and none of these ideas have been original, okay? It sounds like you want to just open up a poster store.
AMIR: That's actually a pretty dece idea. Maybe a poster store in the front, a cool cafe in the back, and a little spot to put air in your tires if you ride a bike!
JAKE: God, you're a bad businessman.
AMIR: I'm not a businessman. I'm a businesswoman.
AMIR: It's a picture of a ninety-eight-year-old dude on a toilet, right? Caption: "I'm gettin' too old for this shit!"
JAKE: That one's kind of funny.
AMIR: Well that one already exists too! So all this shit about me not selling "originals"? [doing air quotes] "You're dumb"!
JAKE: Why am I here?
AMIR: ...What?
AMIR: I'm actually on the fence about even pitching this one, 'cause it's so, like, hyper-offensive.
JAKE: Alright, well, so don't say anything--
AMIR: But it's a [long-sustained bleep, accompanied by a black censor bar over Amir's mouth]
[As Amir describes his poster, he makes violent hand gestures. Jake tries shushing him, then looks around, then tries to interject. None of this is audible over the censor bleep. Eventually Jake slaps Amir to shut him up.]
AMIR: ...Taupe.
AMIR: So it's a poster so shiny and reflective that it shows you a mirror image of yourself when you stare at it.
JAKE: A mirror.
AMIR: Yes, Jake?
JAKE: I didn't say your name. You're pitching me a mirror.
AMIR: ...Yes, Jake?
JAKE: Taupe.
AMIR: Dope.
AMIR: I can has cheezburger?
JAKE: Is that a pitch?
AMIR: No, I'm just hungry, and I was wondering if I can has a... has a cheezburger, actually. I... I hasn't has one in a while, and I was... simply... curious as to whether or not I can has one. A cheezburger.
AMIR: This one's less of a poster and more of a drink, but it's like a... orange juice and soda water.
JAKE: That's entirely a drink. You just pitched me orange soda.
AMIR: I-- it's just that I'm starving, and I feel like I can has... a whole lot of food, but more than anything else, I... I cazn't has a cheezburger. In fact, I... I cheezn't has a cazburger in quite a while, factually.
JAKE: I don't care what you eat.
AMIR: I caz hoping I caz has one. With cheez.
AMIR: It's called the Guide to British Smiles, and it's just famous Englishmen and pictures of their fucked-up teeth. It's like half social commentary, half me just being a little bit of a dickling.
JAKE: No, you're just always being a dickling.
AMIR: [mouthing] Wow. [writing]
JAKE: Still wrote "amber".
[Amir has a cheeseburger.]
AMIR: Oooh, I shouldn't has this! I cazn't has this cheezburger! It'll give me bad cholesterol! I can has bad cholesterol?
JAKE: I think you're has-ing a stroke.
AMIR: This one's half poster, half beverage. Okay? It's called an Arnold Palmer!
JAKE: That's all beverage. It's half iced tea, half lemonade.
AMIR: Just tell me if you like it or not!
JAKE: It's a good idea, but it's not yours.
AMIR: Winning! [gives Jake a thumbs-up]
AMIR: It's a 1988 Lamborghini Countach, parked on a hill during a sunset, cherry red! And guess who gets to drive it!
JAKE: You?
AMIR: Heck no! ...Me in ten years!
AMIR: ...Milk?
JAKE: God-- can I see your notebook?
AMIR: You'll never understand my scatterbrain!
JAKE: [flipping through the pages] Yeah, just page after page of drink ideas.
AMIR: I can has my notebook back now?
JAKE: You think you invented milk?
AMIR: Dad?
AMIR: Alright, just trying to organize my thoughts here. Would you say your top three choices so far have been psychedelic poster, milk, and mirror?
JAKE: No.
AMIR: Okay. That'll suit me well for my first round of funding; the angel round, as it were. By the way, how much could I put you down for? It's a big pie, so feel free to ask for a small little slice.
JAKE: Zero.
AMIR: That fucking hurts to hear.
END