12:23 PM On a Friday Philadelphia, PA "No, you don't get it, none of you guys are getting this!" Mac protested. "Well, that's because it's insane, Mac. Where would we even keep a tiger shark? It's not like they just hand them out on street corners, there'd be a scheme or a plot or some kinda whole thing to try and capture one or steal one or something and I'm really not feeling up to that today. It's Friday, I just want to have a couple beers, maybe get involved in a general goofing off type situation, then go home and mentally prepare myself for another week of...this," Dennis responded, waving his arms in a circle, gesturing to his surroundings. "Clearly you've never been to Vietnam," Frank said, slurping down another mouthful of soup. "You get shark in these little cans for like five bucks a pop off the street rats of Saigon, and the best part is, you don't even have to pay the kids! You just kinda...make kicking motions at 'em until they run away, drop their stuff all over the place." Frank tried to demonstrate, but in his excitement, he ended up spilling the soup all over his shirt. "Aw, shit!" The gang exchanged glances. "Yeaaaaaah, Frank, I was about to ask," Dee began. "Is that shark fin soup?" "What, this?" Frank replied, pointing to his newly stained shirt. "Nah, they don't let you buy that here no more on account of all the sweatshops and the black market and dead kids and whatnot. This here's imitation shark fin. Mostly pork byproduct and gelatin, I think, but your average sweatshop kid ain't gonna know the difference." "It sounds delicious," said Dennis, grimacing. "It is delicious!" Frank replied, grinning. "I think I've got another can lying around here somewhere." He hopped off his stool and headed over to the bartop, beginning his search. "Could you not today, man?" Dennis said, holding his head in his hands. "It's been a hard week, I just want to relax, I don't want you stinking up the bar with your weird shark thing." "Imitation shark," Frank corrected, still rummaging around the bar, knocking bottles on to the floor as he searched. "Whatever," finished Dennis, as he took another sip of beer. "What are your plans for the weekend, sis?" Dee considered the question for a few seconds, raising an eyebrow. "What do you care?" "Oh, I don't," Dennis replied. "I was just hoping we could get off the subject of sharks and cans and Vietnamese street rats." "Are you absolutely positive you won't go with the shark idea?" Mac asked. "Because I was envisioning a Fight Club type situation but if you want we can kind of, sidegrade, to maybe something more like Rocky, where the sharks are down on their luck and they don't really wanna fight each other, but if you pop enough food in there..." It was impossible to tell how much longer Mac might've spent going on about his plan for a Cinematic Aquarium, where the sharks would be dressed up in costumes and would reenact the plots of his favorite movies with as much accuracy as could be reasonably expected. "I mean, there are some things you can't get around, they're sharks, you know?" Mac had prepared this answer in case Dennis yelled at him about how unfeasible it all was, as he was wont to do. But Mac never got to rant, Dennis never got to interject, Frank never got to refuse to finance it and Dee never got to come up with her own tangentially related idea that the rest of the gang would either shoot down or ignore. The door burst open, and Charlie ran in screaming. He was dressed a little shabbier than usual, wearing his trademark piss-stained sleeping pants, and his face was covered in a disgusting mixture of glue, spray paint and tears. He pointed at Dennis, and screamed at him. He pointed at Mac, and screamed louder. He pointed at Frank, and screamed his loudest, tearing out some hair with his hands. The gang exchanged some more glances. "Charlie?" Dennis said, confused. "You wanna tell us what's going on, bro? You're kinda putting a damper on this afternoon with the whole...screaming thing." "Honestly it wasn't that great before he got here," Mac said. "Well, yeah, you're absolutely right, it was a mediocre day all in all, but I feel that these new happenings have left it even further diminished. Frankly I'm not having much of a relaxing day at all anymore." Charlie stared, open mouthed. "Oh, I'm sorry Dennis, have I ruined your afternoon? I've ruined your afternoon? Well, guess what, you son of a bitch? You ruined my life!" he yelled, frantically jabbing his finger in Dennis' direction. "That's right, you've ruined my life, and so help me God, if I ever see you in here again, I'll...agh!" With a final shout, Charlie retreated to the back office, muttering under his breath. "Well, of course he's going to see me again, we both work here," Dennis said to no one in particular. Mac assumed a karate stance, and strode over to the back office door. "Dude? I'm gonna need you to come outside for an ocular patdown, bro. You're acting super weird," Charlie poked out his head. "He banged the Waitress, Mac. He banged the Waitress!" he shouted, and ducked back in. Dennis looked bemused. "Yeah, so what? We've all banged the Waitress. Well, except for Dee here, obviously," he said, gesturing at the air behind him. "And dude, it's been years, why are you freaking out about this again? Because, believe me, the less you remind me of that awful, awful experience the happier I'll be." "Just to clarify," Mac began. "I did not bang the Waitress." "Well, yeah," Dennis allowed. "But you were gonna." "Well, no, if you remember right, it was all part of this scheme..." "That's what I'm saying, man!" Dennis said. "We're always scheming or plotting or getting up to something nefarious. I just want to enjoy a nice cold beer on a Friday afternoon, hanging out with my...uh, friends....and just shoot the shit for a little, you know?" The back office door slammed open, hitting Mac in the face and sending him tumbling to the floor. Charlie ran out, Frank's gun in his hand, and grabbed Dennis by the collar, pointing the gun at his face. "I AM GOING TO SHOOT YOUR SHIT, DENNIS!" he screamed. "Charlie, for God's sakes, put the gun down!" Frank protested, holding his hands up to his face as if it would protect him from any stray bullets. Charlie glanced to Frank, to Dennis, and to Frank again, before nodding and lowering the gun slightly. Frank smiled at him and continued to rummage around for his soup. "Okay, now, what's gone and put a shark fin up your ass?" "It's the Waitress, dude, she's got a shark up my ass," Charlie explained, flailing the gun around as he spoke. Dennis could do nothing but stare, Charlie was still holding him. "She's going on the aggressive, man. She's like, bragging that she's banging one of my friends, you know, taunting me and stuff, trying to drive me away, and it's almost kinda working, it just makes me so mad! And at first I thought it was Dennis," he shoved the gun in Dennis' mouth. "But then I remembered he thinks she's gross cause he's got awful taste." "Awf godd awvul daste?" Dennis mumbled, looking indignant, his mouth still full of metal. "Drop it, man, he's got a gun," Mac said from the floor. "AWF godd awvul daste?" Dennis mumbled again, louder this time. "And then I thought it was Mac," Charlie continued, still holding Dennis, now waving his gun in Mac's direction. "But then I realised it couldn't be, you know, on account of his preferences." "Yeah, exactly bro, you know I don't go for women...women like her, you know?" Mac stammered, smiling and relieved. "And then," Charlie paused for a moment, scratching the side of his head with the barrel of the gun, before tossing it over his shoulder and releasing Dennis. "I thought it might be Frank, but then I know deep down in my heart, man," he held his arms out towards Frank, smiling. "I know you'd never hurt me that way." "Well, again," Dennis said. "And I'm really angry, you guys," Charlie continued. "And I'm really confused, you guys are my best friends in the world but I know none of you would do that, so either she's lying or you're lying or something, and it's got my brain all jacked up, you know? It's like, why would all these people lie to me? What did I do to them, you know?" Frank rose up from the bar, can of imitation shark fin soup in hand. "Just settle down, Charlie. We'll get to the bottom of this. Here, I gotcha a little something," he said, handing the can to Charlie. "Oh, thanks bro," Charlie said, and began licking the outside of the can. "I really need this right now. And you know what, man? I'm so grateful to have you guys as my friends, cause I know you wouldn't do that to me." "Again," Dennis said. "Right, and you know what, man? She's probably just trying to push my buttons or get under my skin or whatever, because I know nobody in this room would betray me like that." "Absolutely, man!" Mac piped up. "Yeah, dude, it's all good," Dennis said, now a little more relaxed. "Hey, Sweet Dee, could you hook us up with a couple more beers, get us all cheered up?" "It's gonna be okay, Charlie," Frank said, patting Charlie on the shoulder. "Ain't nobody within these four walls banging the Waitress." Dennis scrunched his face up. Something wasn't right. He looked towards the bar. "Dee?" SWEET DEE'S BANGING THE WAITRESS