KC: So, I've had a lot of requests to start writing for PIC again.
BRAIN: Three people is really not that many.
KC: Still. I have fans.
HEART: People know you put me – all your whole emotions – into your work. Your real fans will remember you. And I'm sure if you put enough effort into your writing, even more people will read.
JUNK: I hate to be the dick. Get it?
BRAIN: Please shut up. Everyone's been tired of listening to you since the first one of these articles.
JUNK: Hear me out. Has any of this writing, any of it, gotten us anything?
KC: Well, I did publish four textbooks.
JUNK: And how many people care?
JUNK: Exactly. Let's look at girls but still be too afraid to talk to them. Or do something else.
BRAIN: I don't even know if people will remember us. Obviously, I'm the smart one.
KC: I'm the conscious one. Id or ego or whatever.
JUNK: I'm the dick.
KC: Yeah, we got it the first time.
HEART: I'm the sensitive one.
BUTT: I fart and poop.
OLD CLICKY: Howdy there whippersnappers. I'm the fake left knee. Wait. Right knee. I'm old and hurt. So I'm…I forgot what I was saying. Get off my lawn.
MEKANECK: –Bzz–zurt. I'm the fake metal neck. Mistakes were made in the past. This mechanical unit keeps KC from being paralyzed. —Bzz–zurt.
HANDS: I'm good at scratching and sometimes typing. Anything else that has to do with coordination is out of my league.
EYES: I read.
EARS: I hear.
KC: See, now maybe people will remember me.
BRAIN: I hate to break it to you, but people that enjoy dick and fart jokes generally have ADHD and make goldfish's memories seem photographic. It's been years. Nobody gives a shit about you anymore. They probably just go to Buzzfeed anyway.
HEART: Ouch. Even though I don't have nerves, that hurts my feelings.
BRAIN: What the hell are we going to tell people about where we've been?
KC: Uh, we wrote those textbooks.
BRAIN: And the only worthwhile thing about those was the titles.
KC: I thought that was creative.
HEART: You are a creative being. Dedicate your life to it.
BRAIN: Because that pays the bills.
JUNK: We could talk about all the girls we've banged in the past few years.
KC: That might barely fill up about a 300-word column and never get us laid again. We need something more.
HEART: I think we have plenty of emotions to talk about. Maybe we could unearth our old poetry.
KC: Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
BRAIN: The new Star Wars? Mad Max? Rick and Morty?
KC: Wow. Writing about how cool movies are cool and funny shows are funny. That's always a hit.
BRAIN: We could write about how you live at your parents' house.
JUNK: Or how we had to get super-strong antifungal cream to fight the jock itch we had.
KC: Shut up. Nobody was supposed to know about that.
OLD CLICKY: I got a cortisone shot. It hurt like the dickens.
KC: Shut up. Nobody cares about you.
MEKANECK: –Warming up. –I have an idea.
KC: Shut up. You were funny in, like, two columns.
BRAIN: I'm sure your “fans” will love to read about all the crossword puzzles you do.
JUNK: Or the YouTube channel we started so we can talk about masturbating too much and how we're not even getting shot down by chicks any more. Because we've become completely invisible to women.
BRAIN: We don't even have any good new drug or alcohol stories.
KC: Maybe I should kill off this stupid column.
HEART: I have faith. We just have to work really hard. Success comes to the persistent.
BRAIN: Shut the fuck up already.
JUNK: Here's the deal. Let's go to a bar. Try to meet some girls. Go home with one. Or go home and jerk off.
KC: That's the best idea you've had. Looks like I'm finding inspiration.