Annotate the script

Does anyone know how long it takes papier-mâché to dry?

Three hours longer than it took Duncan to think up this assignment.

I think he's really going to appreciate the extra work we did expanding our evolutionary chart. Oh, Britta, can you hold up the final stage of humanity?

I still think that man is going to evolve into woman. Not a dragon monster with three legs.

Three legs?

Well, it's been real. At least the paste smell has. But I have a date to catch. Or should I say, a catch to date.

Oof, I hope you just came up with that.

Look out, drive-by deaning!

Ha-ha, just kidding. Just a non-violent, verbal reminder. The local shelter is having a Puppy Parade this afternoon.

Aw, I wanna lick it.

I expect all of you to lend a paw. Heh-heh.

Oh, like you're famous for your wit.

Puppy Parade?

I am in.

I want to see if those wiener dogs are born that way, or if they start off normal and then get wiener.

Abed, did you pick up my pen? It's a purple pen with a gel grip?

Nope. I'm strictly mechanical pencils these days.

More relatable?

It was just here.

You okay, Annie? Chocolate?

Would you like me to push you to the parade, Pierce?

Oh, no thanks, I don't want people to think of me as a handicap. If anything, this chair makes me more than human.

Wait. Please, just wait. I'm sorry, but I need to know who took my pen.

Uh... sorry, I don't see it.

Yeah. Sorry, Annie.

No! Not 'Sorry, Annie'. We passed 'Sorry, Annie' eight pens ago. I keep bringing pens, and you guys keep taking them, and I'm afraid I'm putting my foot down.

Okay. Well, now Annie has made it clear that this is an issue, so from now on, we need to be more respectful of her things, okay? Okay.

Cool.

Alright. It's not on the floor, so whoever accidentally took-

Not accidentally. Accidents don't just happen over and over and over again, okay, this isn't budget daycare.

Okay, whoever insidiously and with great malice aforethought abducted Annie's pen, confess, repent, and relinquish so we can leave.

Maybe nobody took it. Sometimes I think I lost something really important to me, and it turns out I already ate it.

I didn't eat my pen, Troy. I know I brought it, and now it's gone.

Annie. It's a pen.

It's not a pen! It's a principle.

Not a good time to get a stick of gum. Okay.

Are we going to the Puppy Parade or not? 'Cause this is starting to feel like a bottle episode.

Again with the TV crap. Hey, meatball, did you take Annie's pen to make life more like Benny Hill, or whatever you do?

Abed?

I wouldn't do that. I hate bottle episodes. They're wall-to-wall facial expression and emotional nuance. I might as well sit in the corner with a bucket on my head.

Well I have a photography project to finish, and my grandmother's hands aren't going to take close-ups of themselves.

Hmph.

Was that "hmph" directed at me?

If the "hmph" fits.

I don't have your pen, Annie.

I'm always lending you supplies. You never come prepared.

If it's so important to you, here, have my pen.

That's my pen.

Well, whatever, people, they're just things.

Since they're just things, I don't suppose you'd mind letting us take a quick look-see inside your bag?

Oh, I'd very much mind, Annie. There's no such thing as a quick invasion of civil liberties.

Oh, man.

It all starts with a quick look-see into someone's bag, and then it's a brisk peek-a-roonie at our phone records, and before you can say 1984, the Thought Police are forcy-worcing you to bend and spread.

Bend and spread? Are the Thought Police going to make love to us?

Do they find thoughts in our butts? I knew I should've read that book.

Britta, stop using the Constitution as a baby blanket. Last week, she invoked the Freedom of Information Act to request photocopies of my notes.

Heh. That's pretty good.

Well excuse me for living free.

Come on, stony, we all know the pen's in your bag.

Yeah, come on.

Yeah, come on, just drop it.

Happy?!

Not if that's a used Q-tip.

Gross.

Yes, gross. Welcome to the gross business of martial law. Welcome to what used to be individuality, seized and disintegrated by cowardly groupthink. Welcome, my friends, welcome to the machine!

Well, Annie, it looks like you were wrong. Britta does come prepared for one thing.

Can't complain.

Razzle pizazzle.

Woah, woah, woah, where do you people think you're going?

Uh, have you ever gone to a Puppy Parade halfway through, Britta? It is pointless.

Then you clearly stole the pen. The Patriot Act cuts both ways.

Actually, it's pretty one-sided. That's kind of the point.

Here's my point. Whoever the pen thief is just stood there and watched me get Guantanamo'ed, and I'd like to know who it is so I can let them know that they have lost my trust forever.

It's a bottle episode.

Brit-ta, we're sorry we embarrassed you and looked at your prophylactic equipment, your lifestyle mistakes are none of our business.

Oh, thanks, Shirley, but now let's rustle through your tampons and wallet so we can apologize to you.

I'm sure everybody here knows that I don't steal.

Have you checked your bag, Shirley? If you took it by mistake, I forgive you.

Oh, so if I took it, it's larceny, but if you find it under mother hen, it's a mistake.

Mother hen? I think we about the same age.

Sure, unless time is linear.

I'll make your ass linear.

That doesn't make any sense.

I'll make your ass sense.

Girls, don't get your panties puckered. We all know what we're really thinking. If, and I mean if, the culprit is among us, statistically speaking, it's Troy.

Yes, we were all just thinking that, in 1856.

1856? What if a ghost took the pen?

Please forgive him.

For what?

For stealing the pen, dummy.

Why would I take her pen? I don't even like having my own. It's probably under one of Pierce's casts, he uses everything to itch his legs. We're on our third DVD remote.

If I took the pen, I'd say so.

You probably forgot. You've been popping pain killers like tic tacs.

Oh, yeah right.

Now I wanna know who has it.

Nice try, Shirley, that doesn't take you off the list. Jeff, you're in charge. I demand you deal with this.

There's nothing to deal with.

I'll say.

Okay. Alright, alright. Everyone, breathe.

You know what this is?

Yep.

Shut up. This is a normal day, with a group of friends who are done studying, and a pen that maybe rolled away.

Rolled away?!

Or fell down someone's shoe.

ANNIE.

They should.

Mm-hm.

Okay, okay. So, pen thief, we understand what happened, and we forgive you.

-If you confess and apologize.

Right. But here's the trick. Because this person now has no reason not to come forward, if by some chance I get to the count of three, and nobody comes forward, guess what. We just have to accept that no one has the pen, don't we.

Don't we.

Good. So here we go.

Pierce. You have something to tell us?

Yes. Is it me, or has it become really obvious that Jeff took the pen?

Yes.

Yeah.

Definitely could be.

You wanna make a bet, you jerks? Lockdown. Abed, seal the doors.

I don't like this.

Yeah, tell it to the pen you might have.

Okay. You just became my hero.

Thank you.

No pen.

I can see that. Why do you keep taking that tone with me?

Oh, I'll field that. Because if nobody else has this pen, it means at some point you realized you had it and were too embarrassed to say, and we get to kill you.

I'm not hiding my own pen, you paranoid weirdo. Everybody stay within each other's eyelines, please, one of you is a monster.

Me next, right?

Hold on. Can we please consider the threshold that we are crossing? We don't trust Abed?

He shredded my backpack.

He freed my pet monkey.

Because we corrupted him. He's our innocent.

He put gum in your hair.

Empty the bag, Abed.

Pierce, you don't have a bag?

Giraffe.

Uh, Jeff, you don't have a bag?

Oh, I could never deprive the world of the portion of my chest the strap would cover.

Makes sense. So what's left, Shirley? A little hugging and crying, and then we're done?

Wait, Abed... why is my name in here?

That's mine.

And Shirley's, and Annie's.

What is it?

Charts, some kind of calendar...?

That's my personal private business.

"Annie, 4 on, 28 off, next November 10th. Britta, 5 on, 27 off-" Oh my God, are you charting our menstrual cycles?

What? Gross!

Abed, this is so personal. And so accurate.

Abed, this is really creepy, I don't understand why you would do this.

I can explain.

Oh, I thought you'd keep yelling over me. Okay I can explain. You know I have trouble reading people, and I say the wrong things sometimes, and I noticed it was happening more often with you three than it was with the others. And then I noticed fluctuating patterns, and I started graphing them. By the time I realized what I was actually measuring, it had started to yield really positive results for everybody, so I kept doing it.

Were you ever going to tell us about this? I feel so violated.

Thanks.

More chocolate?

Get away from me!

Abed just became my hero.

NO!

Sheesh. Guess it's true what they say about the sync up.

Okay, if I could just take this time to share a few words of sarcasm with whoever it is that took this pen. I want to say thank you for doing this to me. For a while I thought I'd have to suffer through a Puppy Parade, but I much prefer being entombed alive in a mausoleum of feelings I can neither understand nor reciprocate. So, whoever you are, can I get you anything? Ice cream? Best friend medal? Mm-mm? Okay, sarcasm over. You're last up, Shirley. Dump your comedically huge bag and end this.

Uh... N-No thank you.

Well, well, well, Harvey Keitel.

Well, what do you know, Henry David Thoreau.

My, oh my, Mike Ty... son.

No, I don't have Annie's pen. I'm simply a Christian woman that doesn't open her bag.

What did the Christian woman think would happen when we got to her bag?

The Christian woman thought you'd find it on the Muslim.

Real nice.

Nicer than you, condom-carrier.

Dump the bag or you're guilty.

No!

Oh, Lord, he's thrown a clot! Pierce! Call 911!

No! No!

Pierce, you didn't need to do that.

Yes I did. All you guys do is talk, leaving me to do the things you won't do. People like you are the reason we took so long to get into Vietnam!

Is this what you were trying to hide, Shirley? A pregnancy test?

And more importantly, are they seriously marketing pregnancy tests to black women?

Guys, this is a terribly childish way to handle this kind of situation.

Not that it's, uh, anyone's business, I recently reconnected with my husband over Labor Day. It seems the Lord may have a plan for us that doesn't include that stripper slut he ran away with.

You're not pregnant, Shirley. It's impossible.

Why does everybody think I'm old? I'm around Jeff's age! I have a uterus!

No, no. According to my charts, you couldn't have conceived Labor Day weekend. You would've been ovulating on Halloween.

Halloween? Well... that's that, then.

Yeah, what a relief. Looks like someone narrowly avoided a lifestyle mistake of their own. Oh, or is it only bad if you sleep with unmarried men?

The Bible doesn't recognize divorce, Britta, when you marry a man, he's your man!

Yeah, and after he marries someone else, if you jump into the sack with him, you're an angel, so long as you don't use protection?

I'm so glad you're enjoying this. And I hope whoever stole that pen enjoys it in hell!

Nice try, Stephen Fry.

Stephen Fry!

We all have an agreement. No one leaves till we find it.

Here we go.

Guys! This is school property! Can we just forget it?! It's a pen!

Oh? It's a pen now? Really? It's not a principle anymore? Now it's a pen?!

You're not seriously accusing me. We searched my bag.

Which is exactly the last place you'd put it if you found it halfway through all this. In fact, assuming that one of us does have the pen, who among us has the most incentive to make sure it never sees the light of day?

You wanna go there?

Yeah.

I'll go there. I was born there.

Really.

There's a placard there commemorating me.

What's going on and how can I help?

Annie, relax.

No, you relax, Jeff. Or are you scared that if you do, my pen will fall out?

Oh, you precocious little bitch.

Okay, guys, guys, hey, guys, stop. You're being completely illogical. We need to flip the table, divide the group by gender, and then search each other in our underwear.

What?

Now what?

Everybody shake. Enough to dislodge.

No.

What are those underwear made out of? They look luxurious.

Oh, they're an organic soy-cotton blend.

This Gwynnifer must be real special. Don't you usually wear the stripey turquoise Beetlejuice numbers?

What does she mean "usually"?

Alright, end of the road. We've torn apart the room, we've stripped. There is absolutely no place left...

No. No.

Dammit. Broke my scissors.

Here. Be careful. That's the last pair we have. Also don't cut his legs.

I'm worried we've gone too far. This is how supervillains are created. Can't you just make an inspiring Winger speech about trust, throw in a few digs at an easy celebrity target, and put a ribbon on this thing?

Abed, think about this for one second. If a single one of us leaves this room before we find that pen, how can any of us trust anyone in this group ever again?

What's your hurry?

I'm clothing myself. I'm not comfortable standing around in my all-together like you two anorexic jezeb-

We've all been through a lot today. And I'm sure this pregnancy scare's been weighing on you all week, right?

Mm-hm.

And maybe that's why you took my pen?

What?!

Where are you hiding it?

Oh my goodness, you-

Alright, here we go.

Pierce, are you using Slim Jims to scratch your legs?

Have we not gotten to a place free of judgement yet?

This isn't it, this isn't it, where's the pen, where is it? Where's the pen?! Where's the pen?

Annie, I'd just like to say, on behalf of whoever actually stole this pen, I really am sorry about all this.

I knew it was you.

I knew it was you.

All I know is, it could be any of you.

And, for all we know, it's you.

I wish it were. I really do. I wish I could just find it behind my ear. I'd rather it be that stupid than have to think that any one of us might be this inconsiderate.

After all we've been through, it almost seems impossible.

It seems... less than impossible. Something impossible actually seems more likely.

Here we go. A Winger speech to take us home.

What if a ghost took the pen?

Let him finish.

I am finished. For real, honestly, seriously, why not? Why not just, a ghost took the pen?

Okay, I've been saying that for hours.

And we should've been listening to Troy from the beginning. Guys, look in your hearts, and answer this question honestly. What's more likely: that someone in this group doesn't belong in this group, or ghosts? If we have to choose between turning on each other or pinning it on some specter with unfinished, pen-related business, I'm sorry, but my money's on ghost.

Well, I'm not a religious person, but I've seen specials on the paranormal. Anything's possible.

Relative to the alternative? It actually seems more logical to me.

Why would a ghost want a pen?

Troy?

Okay, so I see it as a lot like the movie Paranormal Activity, except for more boring and fancy. And I think in 1856, it is possible that a man was beheaded while he was writing in his diary to his long-lost love. And now he roams the halls of Greendale, screaming for his pen so he can write her a love letter. "I need her, I need her," he screams, as he looks for a pen...

What the hell did you people do in there?

Something you and your puppies could only dream of, you non-miraculous son of a bitch.

Non-miraculous? Wait! Abed!