Amy Farrah Fowler sat in her flat, downing bottle after bottle of wine or beer or whatever she was drinking; she couldn't even remember. Ricky was perched on her shelf, squawking for a fresh cigar
"Shut it, you pathetic monkey!" she yelled at him, instantly regretting taking her anger at her so-called boyfriend out on the creature, so she lit a cigarette and walked over to the nicotine-addicted animal and handing it to him. He put it in his mouth greedily.
Her flat was becoming more and more polluted from the smoke which was grinding down her work bank account. Right now all she wanted was for it to choke her to death as she drank her troubles away.
Earlier that evening, after Sheldon had yet again declined her cries begging for some of the basic human intimacy she craved madly, he and Leonard had driven her home from the convenience store car park. Sheldon, terrified as always, of germs, had skirted out of the way as Leonard picked her up and carried her to his car.
There had been an advantage in it for her: she had been held by someone who wasn't Penny or her mother! He had even unintentionally reached - as she loudly and carelessly pointed out in her drunk manner, mainly as a metaphorical slap in doctor Cooper's face - second base.
Unfortunately, she had to remind herself that he had only meant to give her help as a friend, that he had not gained any sexual pleasure from it and that it would end here between them; as far as she knew, anyway.
As the depressed young woman sat there trying to think of ways to seduce her beloved robot, Sheldon Cooper, a brilliant idea came to her.