Script for My Boy
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(Amir gets up and slowly walks backward, maintaining eye contact with Jake)
Jake: Woah. I know that look. Means you're about to do something crazy!
(Amir half somersaults onto a beanbag, change falling out of his pockets!)
Jake: Oh-hoh no! Yes! No way! I'm gonna hug you. I'm gonna hug you! I'm gonna hug you, here we go! (Hugs Amir) You're my boy. You're my boy.

(Amir wakes up at his desk. A dick is doodled on his cheek.)
Amir: Jake. Jake.
Jake: What?
(Amir gets up as before, but Jake dismisses him)
Amir: (Jumping up and down) Jake! Jake! JAKE!
Jake: What?!
Amir: (Getting ready to somersault) So stupid... (Somersaults, change falling out of his pockets, his ankle clipping a chair) Ah. Oo. Oogh! So. (Hops on one leg to Jake) Ahh. Let's do a thing where we walk on one leg for the rest of the week. Pretty chill.
Jake: Why don't you just sit back at your desk.
Amir: I will. (Falls down next to Jake) Ahh, actually... Oo, is it hot in here, cause my ankle is swollen. Ahhh. You're my boy, you're my boy. You're my boy.
Jake: What?
Amir: Oogh. Take off my shoe. (Proffers Jake his wounded leg)
Jake: You hurt yourself? Did you hurt your ankle?
Amir: No. Just take off my shoe, my ankle needs to breathe. [...]
Jake: So you didn't hurt your foot, right?
Amir: No I did not, just please take—
Jake: So if I go right here—(grabs Amir's ankle)

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