Applicant Number Two-Hundred Seven:
(A sophisticated-looking, rather well-dressed man steps up to the table.)
Applicant #207: “Hi, my name is Smith N. Wesson. I think I would be best qualified for the position of your roommate because I am attending and doing well in school, I have a well-paying job, and am quite responsible when it comes to money and debt-paying.”
(Mars and RK exchange a “yeah, right” look, then turn back to Smith when he suddenly jumps and shouts, throwing himself to the floor and hiding behind the table.)
Smith: “Did you hear that?”
RK: “Hear wot?”
(Smith pokes his head up slowly over the edge of the table.)
Smith: “I think they’re gone now.”
(Smith slowly stands up, looking about shiftily.)
Smith: “I also collect guns. Pretty… Shiny… Guns…”
(Smith gets a glazed look in his eyes, then suddenly the door opens and Smith snaps out of his reverie, drawing his concealed weapon and firing on the hapless chap entering the room.)
Mars: “Dude! Don’t shoot the other applicants!”
(Smith stops firing, looking a little disappointed.)
Smith: “Sorry. I thought he was one of them. You know them, don’t you?”
RK: “Oh yes, of course. Who’s them again?”
Smith: “The SPONGE PEOPLE!!”
RK: “Ah yes. Them. Silly me.”
(Mars leans over to RK and whispers to her.)
Mars: (referring to the man Smith had shot at) “Well, the guy was dressed all in sponges.”
(RK shrugs.)
RK: “True.”
(They then turned back to Smith who had run to the door and was waving the gun menacingly, shouting threats after the retreating Spongeman.)
RK: “Dude. Dude! J0, Smith Dude!”
(Smith turns back to them, a slightly wild look in his eyes.)
Smith: “Hey, sorry ‘bout the bullet holes, I usually don’t miss. I’ll send you a payment to have them fixed as soon as my drug money comes in.”
RK: “Hokaaayyy! Well, then. We’ll let you know if your application is accepted. Why don’t you have one of the cookies on the right there. They’re the good ones!”
Smith: “Aw, thanks! My therapist will be so happy to hear I made some friends!”
Mars: “Uh-huh. Good good. Bye-bye now.”
(Smith smiles and waves, munching happily on a cookie as he leaves.)
(RK and Mars continue to smile and wave until Smith is out of sight, then they both let out a sigh of relief.)
Mars: “Were those the laxative cookies?”
RK: “You bet your bright green socks they were. Least he got rid of Spongeman.”
Mars: “True, dat. Next!”
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