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!