{Germaine sits at her laptop, typing. Her breasts are barely being held into her shirt.}
Foamy: Dude! Why are your bras all over the room?
Germaine:{pounds on table angrily} 'Cause I'm fed up with them! I'm not wearing bras anymore.
Foamy: So why?
Germaine: They're man-made torture devices. All they do it cut off your circulation, make it difficult to breathe, and squeeze your tits together so guys can stare at your cleavage! I refuse to be encumbered by mans' tortuous garments of oppression!
Foamy: You know, I've noticed, any time you gain some weight, and you can't fit into your old clothes, your old clothes become {emphasizes each word with finger quotes} tortuous garments of oppression. Why is that?
Germaine:{lowly tone} My undies are always oppressing me.
Foamy: Yeah, okay. You just don't want to accept the fact that you're gaining weight. So you redirect your self-loathing on your clothes! It's quite sad, really.
Germaine:{defensive} Nuh-uh.
Foamy: Dude. Why don't you just buy some new clothes?
Germaine:{angrily} My clothes are fine! {unsure} I can still fit into them.
Foamy: Um, why are you wearing a thong?
{The view cuts to behind Germaine's computer, where her butt is visible.}
Germaine: It... It's not a thong.
Foamy: Well, then your ass has consumed another pair of underwear!
{The view cuts back to the front of Germaine's computer.}
Foamy: And, frankly, that shirt needs a little help, too.
Germaine:{angrily} It's fine.
Foamy: Dude! Your boobs are almost popping out of your... You know what? Never mind. I don't care. Every time I try to give advice, no one listens. Well fine. {cut to behind computer} Go about your life blindly, with your ass continuously eating your underwear, {cut to front of computer} while your tits pop out of your shirt every time you take a breath. God forbid you buy some new clothes that actually fit.
Germaine:{sadly} But I don't want to wear and extra-large.
{The view cuts to behind Germaine's computer.}
Foamy: Extra-large? Who are you kidding? Your ass is going for triple XL, my bloated friend.
{The view cuts back to the front of Germaine's computer.}
Germaine: Why can't I just stop eating all those really tasty junk foods?
Foamy: Because they're really tasty.
Germaine:{sarcastically} Thank you for your brilliant observation.
Foamy: Not at all. Here's another observation. {cut to back of computer} Your blubbery ass is devouring your chair!
{Anchovie peers in from the right with an awed look on his face.}
Germaine: You know, I don't appriciate your sarcasm.
Foamy: That's okay. Millions of viewers do. {ducks down}
{Germaine and Anchovie stare at each other.}
Anchovie: I'd just like to say I admire your... {looks at Germaine's butt} convictions.
