Hi, my second story is now here. I don't own the characters blah blah - you know it all. Thanks to JazziePerson for beta reading- she has a heap of Torchwood stories that are very good so check them out! I love getting reviews, so any (good or bad) would be very welcome. If you haven't already please look at my other story as well 'the one with the reincarnation'.
The One with the Frisbee
(The friends are sat around a picnic blanket in central park eating; Joey pours the contents of a jar over hot dog and has a bite)
Joey: Monica, I think this ketchup's old, it tastes weird.
Monica: That's because its jam, Joey.
(Joey stares at the hotdog critically then shrugs and keeps eating)
Rachel: Joey, do you know how disgusting that is.
Chandler: Of course he doesn't, that's what makes him Joey.
Ross: Chandler, do ya wanna kick a ball for a bit.
Chandler (lying back): No, I'm using enough energy digesting.
Phoebe: That's a fat person excuse! But don't kick the ball anyway.
Ross: Why?
Phoebe: Balls a have feelings and rights too, plus I had a pet ball once.
Ross: Okay, I don't know what part of that sentence to be more confused by.
Chandler: What type of ball do you mean? Cause I Know a type that does deserve respect.
Ross: Phebes, can't we just-
Phoebe (menacing): Just put the ball down, Ross.
(Phoebe takes the ball and strokes it softly)
Phoebe (to the ball): You're home now, no more abuse, no more kicks.
Chandler: Yeah, Ross, how could you be so cruel.
Joey: Monica, we're out of jam.
Monica: Well, we don't have any more here, oh, but there's a shop just over the road, why don't you go over there and get some?
Joey: Okay, anyone else want anything?
Rachel: Sugar.
Chandler (sings): oh, honey honey.
Monica (giving chandler a look): Why sugar?
Rachel: I've just broken up with a guy who was on a diet so strict that he snacked on celery.
Joey: Erch! I don't even know what that is, but sugar coming right up.
(Joey goes)
(Ross stands up holding red Frisbee)
Ross: Hey, who wants a Frisbee game!
Phoebe: Ooooh! Me! We could use a shoe, or my hat!
Ross: Or we could use the Frisbee.
Phoebe: Yeah, that would work too.
Ross: Okay, let's go.
(They all stand and move into a space, Barbie girl song ringtone starts playing)
Chandler: Ross you're phones ringing.
Rachel: Mon, that's yours isn't it?
Monica (picking up the phone): Yeah, hello.
Joey (on other end of phone): Hello, Monica?
Monica: Yeah what's up?
Joey: I'm kinda lost in the shop.
Monica: I'll guide you out, what's in front of you?
Joey: Errrrrrm... the dog food aisle.
Monica: Okay turn around, you'll see doors, go through them and you're out.
Joey: Okay thanks.
Monica: Bye.
Joey: Hey Monica, they have a third off on all dog food.
Monica: Bye Joey.
(She hangs up)
Ross: Frisbee? Unless you're against that too Phebes.
Phoebe: No, Frisbees don't get hurt, plus one insulted Chandler.
Chandler: Well, let's throw the bastard, no mercy.
(They start tossing the Frisbee)
Phoebe: Ross, you throw like a girl.
Ross: Well you throw like a - (Phoebe throws it at him, hitting him square on the forehead) - a wrestler.
(Joey arrives carrying a huge sack of dog food)
Joey: Hey everyone.
Chandler: There are so many jokes that could be said about that but I think it speaks for itself.
Monica: Joey, we still don't have a dog.
Joey: It was a third off; I'm not as strong as you.
Rachel: Wanna join in?
Joey: Okay.
(Rachel throws it to Joey who tosses it into a tree)
Rachel: Joey, the tree's not playing.
Joey: I'll get it out, don't worry.
(He takes his shoe off and throws it at the Frisbee, the shoe gets stuck, he throws the next shoe up which gets caught next to the first)
Joey: Shoes, cough up.
(They all take they're shoe off and hand them to Joey)
Chandler (handing shoes to Joey): Why am I doing this?
(The scene switches to them all walking home completely shoeless)
Monica: God, my feet hurt.
Joey: Well they wouldn't hurt if you hadn't run.
Monica: I was only running 'cause a dog peed on the basket because you brought the dog food!
Chandler: Hole-y socks, Joey.
Monica: Hole-y socks! Holy shi-
Joey: I'm hungry.