Script for Tipping
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Opening SequenceEdit

Jake: Hey, you're watching Jake and—
Amir: Hey why don't you say my name?!
Jake: You interrupted me!
Amir: Whatever.


Amir: Q, R, S... T, U, V...
Jake: Think about it...
Amir: No! Uh, yeah, I have to think about it.
Jake: No thinking about it?
Amir: I have to think about it, yeah but I—one second. T, U, V...
Jake: You stumped?
Amir: No! I'm not stumped, I'm just figuring it out.
Jake: You know, even if you get it I'm not gonna be impressed because you started at Q.
Amir: Yesterday I ended at R; R, Q—
Jake: Back to work, okay?
Amir: Woah, just got my cousin Leron's ezine.
Jake: Did you hear me when I said go back to work?
Amir: Yeah it's an online newsletter.
Jake: I didn't ask what it was.
Amir: It's sort of like about disrupting the status quo, sorta keeping the government on its toes and stuff like that.
Jake: Fine. What's it called?
Amir: Oo, now you care, huh?
Jake: Forget it. Forget I asked—
Amir: It's called Poodle Tartar, okay, because he's rawdogging the non-readers.
Jake: Bad. Bad title. So stupid.
Amir: He only writes it on weekends that he doesn't have to spend with his children.
Jake: Oh my god, I hate that he has children.
Amir: Only 9, okay. But they're mostly grown up now. Actually, seven of them are the same age.
Jake: How ol—what?!
Amir: Huh?
Jake: He ha—that's septuplets!
Amir: Seven different moms, ya idiot! They choreographed it.
Jake: That seems less likely.
Amir: You'd be surprised.
Jake: I am surprised.
Amir: This one's pretty messed up actually, it's about 300 pages of bomb schematics and pictures of Leron taking a dump on public libraries, which we swears to God is not illegal. And then there's, like, a personal treatise devoted to how tipping isn't technically mandatory.
Jake: That's true.
Amir: What?
Jake: Tipping's not mandatory. You don't have to do it. But, a lot of waiters and service persons rely on the income—
Amir: Holy guack, I'm never tipping again. What about gifts?
Jake: What about gifts?
Amir: Gifts! Yeah! You know, for birthdays, weddings, funerals, of that nature.
Jake: Don't bring a gift to a funeral.
Amir: Something small, something nice.
Jake: No! Right, buddy? Come on. Have you been to a funeral?
Amir: Yeah, I've been to hundreds.
Jake: Look. Just try to unlearn whatever you just read about in Leron's ezine.
Amir: (On the phone) Mickey my friend! How are you? Long time caller, first time not-giving-a-shitter. You know how last week I crashed your daughter's onesie? Yeah, her one year old birthday party at the kiddie gym. Showed up drunk as a kite and promised her the best gift money couldn't buy? Well guess what, Mickey? That ship has docked. Go outside Mickey and try to pretend it's not Thanksgiving, because your eyes are about to feast on the sickest jungle gym you've ever seen. This one's so big it's a goddamn rainforest gym! Splinter-free and polished since '93 in Holished.
Jake: Stupid rhyme.
Amir: (On the phone) You opening the door Mickey? Yeah, check it out Mickey. You're looking at nothing, Mickey. Cause you know what, Mickey? Gifts ain't legal, Mickey!
Jake: Yes they are.
Amir: (On the phone) The only thing I have to get you, Mickey, is a visit from my friend Jonathan Squat AKA jack shit. Yeah, you lied to me Mickey, you pressured me with fake social norms Mickey, and for that I urge you to attend your local chocolate factory and go fudge yourself! (Hangs up) Unh!
Jake: God that was impressive.
Amir: Thank you.
Jake: Do you plan that out? Like the, "Go outside and pretend it's not Thanksgiving, feast your eyes on this", you plan that out?
Amir: Yeah. Yeah yeah, it's all scripted.
(Amir displays the script to Jake)
Jake: Wow. Learn the alphabet.

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