INTRO
AMIR: Hey, you're watching a real [drawn-out yell] goal! --episode of Jake and Amir!
JAKE: Bye.
AMIR: Wait!
[Pat, Jake, Paul, and Rachel are on a couch, watching the World Cup. Amir comes in and wiggles himself in between Jake and Paul, where there is clearly no room.]
AMIR: It's fun to watch TV at work! Thanks for including me, guys!
[Amir's presence on the couch forces Pat off onto an adjacent chair. Amir puts his arm around Jake.]
JAKE: We specifically tried not to include you. The email went out to a special Listserv we created, called "allbutamir@collegehumor.com".
AMIR: Can I change the channel? Can I change the channel, or do we have to watch this soccer shit?
[Jake pushes Amir's hand off of him.]
AMIR: [on the phone] Hi, twat. Yeah, can we get two large pizzas, one medium pie, and, let's say, seven small 'zas?
PAUL: Those are all just different words for the same thing.
RACHEL: And we already have pizza.
AMIR: And chicken wings? Yeah, I love those frickin' things.
JAKE: Can you not order in weird rhymes? It's rude.
AMIR: Whats?
JAKE: ..."Whats"?
AMIR: Ever notice how we call it "soccer", but in the rest of the world it's all like "Futbol! Futbol! Futbol!"
[Paul smiles.]
JAKE: Of course we noticed that.
AMIR: Then laugh! It's an observational humor!
JAKE: It's not humor. It's just an observation.
AMIR: Still! A chuckle would have been decent. Got this fatass to grin about it! [laughs]
PAUL: Oh, no. My cousin just sent me a text that made me smile. It wasn't you.
AMIR: [still laughing] Count it!
AMIR: [on the phone] My credit card number is, um, uh... [laughing] it's sixty-nine.
JAKE: Give me the phone.
AMIR: Alright. [hands Jake the phone]
JAKE: [on the phone] Four two two...
AMIR: Aww.
AMIR: Ahhh, this sport is boring. Nothing ever happens. It's just like, pass the ball. Kick the ball. I don't--
[Everybody stands up, cheering and clapping.]
ALL: Goal! / Yes! Oh, man!
AMIR: And the universe gives me a slice of humble pie! My point still stands, though: Hardly anything ever--
ALL: Another goal! / Another one, oh my God! / Whoa!
[Amir is eating the food he had ordered. Pat reaches for something, but Amir slaps his hand away.]
AMIR: In what fucking world do you live in?
PAT: Are... are you serious?
AMIR: Yeah, I'm serious. This is my food, shitbird.
PAT: You ate all our pizza.
AMIR: I'm not talking to you.
JAKE: You are talking to him. By the way, I paid for this food. Okay? Remember, your card number was sixty-nine.
AMIR: As a joke! 'Cause sixty-nine means to [Amir is censored by a bleep and a black bar over his mouth. Amir makes a variety of hand gestures to convey his point. Jake cringes. Rachel leaves in disgust.]
JAKE: No, it does not!
AMIR: Everybody in this sport has a weird name. Who's that guy? Garageio?
PAUL: That's Fred.
AMIR: Weird.
PAT: Your name's Amir!
AMIR: Take that back!
PAUL: Hey, man. Maybe you could apologize to Rachel. 'Cause--
AMIR: Why? I didn't do anything bad. All I said was that sixty-nining was, like, a [Amir is censored again.]
JAKE: --Stop it!
RACHEL: [crying off-screen] Make him stop!
AMIR: Why is it when people take up soccer it's considered cute and quirky, but when I get a hobby, no one says jack shit?
JAKE: Your hobbies aren't important. They don't affect anyone or anything.
PAT: No-- what are your hobbies?
AMIR: Well, not really a hobby, but when my family and I dine at restaurants that give you beepers while you wait for a table, I'll always pretend like it's buzzing. Make my dumbass mom or my goofy dad walk up to the waitress, time after time, in vain. [chuckles] Then at the end of the bit, I'll throw the beeper away so that my dad ends up owing cash for it.
JAKE: Your hobbies are bad.
AMIR: No shit, dude.
JAKE: You're bad.
AMIR: All I'm saying is that real athletes don't wear cleats. They wear real shit, like baseball shoes.
JAKE: Baseball players wear cleats.
AMIR: ...I'm starting to think my only friend in the room [gesturing at Paul] is Fatass over here. [to Paul] What do you think, dummy? [doing a voice for Paul, like a ventriloquist] "Who are you calling a dummy, dummy?"
JAKE: God, this is sad.
AMIR: [laughing] Fatass loves it.
JAKE: Raise your hand if you like Amir.
[Nobody reacts. Amir eventually raises his hand.]
AMIR: All's I'm saying is for a sport to be exciting, there should be points, you know? None of this low-scoring, tie-game bullshit--
[Everybody stands and celebrates.]
ALL: Goal! / Oh, awesome! / Oh yeah! / Woo!
AMIR: Why does this keep happening to me?
RACHEL: I think soccer players are the hottest.
AMIR: Gay much?
JAKE: What?
AMIR: Sorry, I thought Pat said that.
AMIR: Why is it, on airplanes, they give you little tiny napkins with your drink? What are they, afraid I'm gonna spill?
PAUL: ...Yes.
AMIR: Whatever. My point still stands.
JAKE: No it doesn't.
AMIR: Yes it does! I'm just saying I don't spill shit.
[Amir tries to grab a drink, but knocks it over with his hand.]
AMIR: Oh, sh--
AMIR: Sorry, am I being a dumbass American for preferring baseball to this "game"? I mean, baseball might be twice as slow and pretty boring, but at least shit happens--
[Everybody starts celebrating again.]
ALL: Goal! / Awesome!
AMIR: Fuck, dude! This is more than a coincidence! This is so bizarre! I'm, like, freaking out! Every time I bring up the low-scoring nature of the game, which it--
ALL: Goal! / Oh my God! / What!
AMIR: How?
JAKE: Oh, man.
AMIR: That was fun, actually! When's the next match?
JAKE: It's over, man. That was the final.
AMIR: So what now? Should we watch the MLS?
PAUL: No, we're good.
PAT: See you in four years, everyone.
JAKE: Cool.
[Everybody gets up to leave.]
AMIR: What?
END