A/N: Heyyyyyy guys… 1:00 AM. Thanks for all the reviews on A Box of Froot Loops! I wasn't expecting them. I really didn't like it at all. So yeah, thanks. One of these days I have to write a serious fic. And something that has nothing to do with Roger. But this is not that day… This one is for SiriusLovesRent. If you want to know why you're gonna have to read the wholeeeeee fic, all the way to the ending Author's Note. This is pretty crackish and OOC, so bear with me.
And review pleaseeeeee. I promise I'll reply. I'm sick. CoughSneezeCoughSniffDie. Sympathize with poor me.
Property of Mister J. Larson.
"Pants can be so fucking CONFUSING!" Roger cried dramatically, storming out of his bedroom in the loft. He found Mark and Collins lounging on their beat up old couch. Mark fiddled with his absolutely ancient camera and Collins smoked a joint, both bored out of their minds. But Roger would change that.
"If you want me to help you get in them, I'd be glad to be of assistance." Collins offered, smirking. He laughed and took another drag.
"Yeah, you wish Collins." Roger scoffed, plopping down into an armchair. He rolled up his plaid pants into a ball and threw them at random; they landed on Mark's head.
Mark picked them up as if he were holding a rat by its tail, and tossed them to the side. "Thank you, Roger. I was in the middle of something," he said sarcastically, setting his camera to the side, and directing his attention to the pantsless blonde, "Holy shit! Put some clothes on!"
"I AM CONFLICTED!" He exclaimed.
"You're crazy, that's what you are…" Mark decided, shaking his head in disbelief with an exasperated sigh.
"Like a fox," Roger replied, grinning and sticking his tongue out at his friend.
"I don't care if you're a fox or a fucking dolphin, put your pants on, Roger!"
"Just be grateful that he hasn't gone completely naked yet…" Collins advised.
"I have a PROBLEM!" Roger argued in defense.
"You've got that right," Mark agreed, doing his best to not look directly at his pantsless roommate.
"Shut up! I mean that I have a dilemma," he explained expertly.
"What's your dilemma Rog-podge?" Collins asked, knowing that if they didn't allow him to rant, he'd just get worse.
"Well one of my dilemmas is that I have a friend who calls me ROG-PODGE!" He started, always annoyed by the dreaded nickname, "And the reason that I'm so incredibly conflicted is that I have a new belief."
"Not another theory…" Mark whined.
"I, Roger Davis, think that a man should be able to walk around pantsless in his own place of residence should he choose to!" He stated proudly, getting to his feet, as if that would emphasize his point.
"I, Mark Cohen, think that a man should be able to admit his best friend to a mental hospital should he choose to! But we can't all get what we want just because we put it in fancy wording, now can we?!"
Collins shook his head, chuckling. He was taking Roger's slow demise into insanity a hell of a lot better, "Mark, I think we should hear him out," He responded, solely for his own amusement, "Let the boy plead his case."
"Collins, you've GOT to be fucking kidding me." Mark said irritably.
Roger beamed, putting on a professional voice, like a small child pretending to be a business man, "I thought you might feel that way, gentlemen," This voice was much deeper than his own, "Which is why I've prepared a brief presentation for you." He ran back into his room.
"I hate you." Mark mumbled to Collins, who couldn't contain his laughter, he bit his lip, entertained.
Roger was back a split second later, still wearing virtually no clothes, now bearing a clipboard and an oversized sketchpad. He had thrown on a tie. This, his friends knew, would be interesting. He propped the pad up on the floor and flipped it open, reading from the clipboard what the page said in large, sloppy, red letters.
"The Pros and Cons of Pants: a presentation by Roger Davis." He grinned and mouthed 'That's me!'
Collins crossed his legs and twiddled his thumbs, nodding seriously and pretending to be interested. Mark sat slumped in the chair with his arms folded, utterly annoyed. Roger didn't care what their reactions were. He continued. He flipped to the next page, on which a crude, juvenile picture of a pair of pants was drawn.
He read slowly, like a first grader who was just learning, "These are the pants that we all know and luh…love. The pants that I wuh…wuh-air…WEAR! The pants that I wear practically every day." He recited, trying to make out his own handwriting.
Collins and Mark stared at him skeptically.
"SORRY! I'm nervous… But I'm good now!" He promised eagerly, the fake professional voice gone, replaced by a kindergartener's persona.
Mark raised his hand.
"Mr. Cohen," Roger said, calling on him.
"Why are there lines all over the pants?"
"Oh! That's my plaidiness. The plaid's how you can tell they're mine." He explicated reasonably.
"Ohhhhhhh, okay. Now I see it…" Mark nodded, squinting at the picture.
"Please continue, Mr. Davis." Collins requested.
"Certainly Mr. Collins," He concurred, flipping the page to another drawing of a stick figure (with great hair) next to something that looked like a broom. "This is me and my guitar. I try to write songs a lot. These-" he pointed to the stick figure's pants, which were practically the same as the one's on the previous page, "are my pants again. While we all love my pants, I think that without the hassle of them it would be much easier to concentrate on my music."
"Your pants distract you from your music?" Mark questioned slowly, considering exactly how sane Roger was, "Have you considered that you have ADD?"
"It's A-I-D-S, Mark, not A-D-D." Roger clarified.
"Wow. Just wow."
"Very good point, Mr. Davis," Collins egged him on to Mark's dismay.
"Awesome!" Roger exclaimed, turning the page, where there was once again the same image of his pants, this time though, they seemed to be steaming, "These are my pants after I've worn them for a few days in a row. Notice how they begin to smell." He continued, making it clear that the steam was representing the odor.
"That's not your pants, it's your HYGEINE, fucking idiot!" Mark yelled.
Collins turned to him, "Mr. Cohen, I don't think that type of language is appropriate for the workplace. Now, you can either direct your attention to Mr. Davis's presentation with polite responses, or I will have to ask you to leave."
"But Collins, I live he-"
"This is your only warning!" Collins threatened, he intimidated Mark too much for him to argue.
"Thank you, Mr. Collins. I appreciate your help." Roger said earnestly.
"Well, we've got to keep the office workers in line or they won't know their place!"
"Absolutely!"
Mark muttered something to himself that neither of them could here.
Roger smiled, and turned the page once again to an illustration of something that resembled two pieces of chicken. "These are my legs. Obviously, they're fantastic. Wearing pants covers up my flawless legs, and that could potentially be a very bad thing."
"You're out of your mind…" Mark trailed off as Collins gave him a warning look.
"He does have nice legs."
"Is it appropriate to say that about your co-worker?" Mark enquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Hey, I make the rules around here," Collins told him. Mark shrugged.
Roger ignored them again, and went on, "This," the new drawing was the same pants, but they were now scribbled on, "is a picture of my pants today. They are in very bad condition. I fear that they may soon move on to Plaid Heaven, with the best of the plaid pants…"
Mark could've sworn he saw a tear roll down his face.
Roger sniffed sadly, "They've been with me for a long time now, and they're now worn and torn. It may be their time to- I CAN'T GO ON! IT'S TOO HARD!"
"Oh god…"
"There, there Mr. Davis." Collins consoled him, you can skip this part if you'd like.
"Well," Roger said, suddenly returning to a perfectly happy composed manner, "That's pretty much the gist of it."
"What about the Pros of pants?" Mark asked, the presentation was called "The Pros and Cons of Pants."
"Oh yeah!" Roger flipped to another page that had a picture of a smiling stick figure similar to his, only obviously a girl, judging by its long hair, "The pro of my pants is that chicks think they're hot," He read.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Wow, maybe you should go pantsless." Mark considered.
"Boy, you really think girls care about your pants?" Collins questioned.
Roger nodded, "Of course they do!"
"He is crazy," Collins said to Mark.
Mark nodded, "Like a fox."
"Y'know Angel," Mimi said to her best friend later that night, "I don't know why I obsess over that guy downstairs. But he has these really great plaid pants."
A/N: Theeeeeeee end. YES, the ending IS PURPOSELY similar to the ending of SiriusLovesRent's "The Pros and Cons of Pants" In case you haven't guessed by now, me and him are preeeeeeeeetty tight. This is for him. He's well aware that I'm writing it. So don't be all "ZOHMYGAH! YOU TOTALLY STOLE SIRIUSLOVESRENT'S ENDING!" Because yeah, did that on purpose…He knows. Here's why this fic's for SiriusLovesRent.
SiriusLovesRent: I hateeee titles. I'm so horrible at them.
Me: No, I like your titles
SiriusLovesRent: My titles suck! They're always last minute things. Yours are better.
Me: NO! I liked "The Pros and Cons of Pants."
SiriusLovesRent: It's so lame and so very last minute.
Me: It makes me want to read it. Cause its weird. And you'd think that it was like a fic about Roger debating over whether or not he should be able to walk pantsless around the loft…
SiriusLovesRent: Gasp! THAT'S A GOOD IDEA! WRITE IT!
Me: xD What would I call it?
SiriusLovesRent: I DON'T KNOW! YOU SHOULD JUST WRITE IT!
Me: The Pros and Cons of Pants II?
SiriusLovesRent: YES! IT'LL BE A SEQUAL!
Me: Haha yeah, NO!
(and after a bit of arguing)
Me: FINE I'll write it if you want me to.
SiriusLovesRent: Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
And that's that. I'm sure you'll review.
With love for reviewers as strong as Roger's pants are tight,
ProngsLovesRent