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