Upon listening to his outspoken buddy rave about how much he identifies with the geeky, sensitive paleontologist Ross from the hit show Friends, Casey Fink knew exactly where this was going.
“I just love how snarky he can be, I totally love when he gets all squeaky-voiced. Pivot! PIVOT! That’s so me, I’m literally Ross. But enough about me. Tami, who would you be?”
It seemed to Fink that everyone had a clear idea of which friend they would be. I mean just look at how ‘Rachel’ Tami was; she was compassionate, had straight amber hair, flaunted her piercing, unconfined nipples, and worked in fashion. What an anomaly. The most puzzling part of it all wasn’t how well everyone in the room fit neatly into a box of a character, though; it was Fink’s brewing internal conflict of having characteristics of multiple characters from the show.
Fuck….okay, no need to worry Casey, just think it through. There’s no doubt you’re Joey in social settings. I means, this is the first interaction you’ve felt qualified to take part in all day besides Caroline’s whole “raise your glass if you’re a dense fuckin’ meatball like Casey!” toast. What a hurtful toast, Caroline! But seriously, all you’ve contributed to the group today was polite nodding and the exclamation “boy, they sure do have a drill bit for every type of screw nowadays!” during a moment of silence commemorating Syd’s brother over seas, which you mistook as a conversational lull. Joey seems like a fit.
Gah! Then again, you are extremely infertile. Your loins bare absolutely zero fruit. You are the walking embodiment of Joey’s dip-shittery, but the fact that your scarce sperm has no willingness to latch onto the female egg makes you a viable candidate as this group’s Chandler. Oh the humanity! Or lack there of, because again, you cannot reproduce with any human female.
After feeling the conversation creeping closer and closer, Casey panicked.
“I totally see that about you, Megan! Alright, Casey, who would you be?”
Six seconds of blanks stares passed, so in a moment of pure mammal instinct, ruffled Fink jumped up onto the island, dramatically ripped off his shirt, and much like a baboon in the heat of mating season, puffed out his chest and screamed primal calls unto the room.
“AhOOOOOahOOOOOOOO! I AM CHANJOEY, RULER OF ALL UNSKILLED OFFSPRING, OF WHICH I CANNOT PRODUCE! I AM BOTH DULL-WITTED AND THE END OF MY BLOODLINE!”
49 uninterrupted seconds of silence cast over the room. Heavy breathing Fink, now slouched over due to his out-of-shape nature, jumped off the table and offered a fiver to every person in the room, none of which reciprocated.
“I’m going to go grab another drink, anyone want anything? Casey?” said Dmitri, the guy lounging outside the circle. What a Gunther.