Cooperative Calligraphy (2010)
Does anyone know how long it takes papier-mache to dry?
Three hours longer than it took Duncan to think up this assignment.
I think 's really gonna appreciate the extra work we did expanding our evolutionary chart.
Oh, Britta, can you hold up the final stage of humanity?
I still think that man is going to evolve into woman, not dragon monster with three legs.
Well, it's been real...
At least the paste smell has...
But I have a date to catch.
Or should I say a catch to date.
Oof, hope you just come up with that.
Look out! Drive-by deaning!
Just a non-violent verbal reminder.
The local shelter is having a puppy parade this afternoon.
Oh! I want to lick it.
I expect all of you to lend a paw.
Except you, Jeffrey.
I know you've gotta catch to date.
Oh, like you're famous for your wit.
I am in.
Want to see if those wiener dogs are born that way, or if they start off normal and then get wiener.
Abed, did you pick up my pen?
It's a purple pen with a gel grip.
Nope. I'm strictly mechanical pencils these days.
It was just here.
You okay, Annie? Chocolate?
Would you like me to push you to the parade, Pierce?
Oh, no, thanks.
I don't want people think of me as a handicap.
If anything, this chair makes me more than a human.
You move it by blowing into this, uh, tube here.
It's the most expensive one.
I outbid three hospitals for this baby, and it was worth every penny.
Wait! Please just wait.
I'm sorry, but I need to know who took my pen.
Sorry, I don't see it.
Yeah, sorry, Annie.
Not "sorry, Annie".
We passed "sorry, Annie" eight pens ago!
I keep bringing pens, and you guys keep taking them, and I'm afraid I am putting my foot down.
Okay. Well, now, Annie has made it clear that this is an issue, so from now on, we need to be more respectful of her things.
All right, it's not on the floor, so whoever accidentally took... Not accidentally!
Accidents don't just happen over and over and over again, okay?
This isn't budget daycare.
Okay, whoever insidiously and with great malice aforethought abducted Annie's pen, confess, repent, and relinquish so we can leave.
Maybe nobody took it.
Sometimes I think I lost something really important to me, and it turns out I already ate it.
I didn't eat my pen, Troy.
I know I brought it, and now it's gone.
I took a photo.
Aha. I'm zooming.
I took this ten minutes ago.
My pen was on the table.
No one has come in or out since.
One of you has my pen right now.
It's a pen.
It's not a pen!
It's a principle.
Not a good time to get a stick of gum. Okay.
Are we going to the puppy parade or not?
Because this is starting to feel like a bottle episode.
Again with the TV crap.
Hey, meatball, did you take Annie's pen to make life more like Benny Hill or whatever you do?
I wouldn't do that. I hate bottle episodes.
They're wall-to-wall facial expression and emotional nuance.
I might as well sit in the corner with a bucket on head.
Well, I have a photography project to finish, and my grandmother's hands aren't going to take close-ups of themselves.
Hasta la later.
Was that "hmm" directed at me?
If the "hmm" fits.
I don't have your pen, Annie.
I'm always lending you supplies.
You never come prepared.
If it's so important to you, here, have my pen.
That's my pen.
Well, whatever, people.
They're just things.
Since they're just things, I don't suppose you'd mind letting us take a quick look-see inside your bag?
Oh, I'd very much mind, Annie.
As a "quick" invasion of civil liberties.
Oh, it all starts with a quick look-see into someone's bag and then it's a brisk peeka-roony at our phone records, and before you can say "1984", the thought police are forcy-worcing you to bend and spread.
Bend and spread?
Are the thought police gonna make love to us?
Do they find thoughts in our butts?
I knew I should have read that book.
Britta, stop using the constitution as a baby blanket.
Last week, she invoked the Freedom of Information Act to request photocopies of my notes.
That's pretty good.
Well, excuse me for living free.
Come on, Stoney, we all know the pen's in your bag!
Yeah! Come on! Come on, dump it.
Not if that's a used q-tip.
Welcome to the gross business of martial law.
Welcome to what used to be individuality, seized and disintegrated by cowardly groupthink.
Welcome, my friends! Welcome to the machine!
Well, Annie, it looks like you were wrong.
Britta does come prepared for one thing.
Big weekend? Can't complain.
The puppy parade is starting on the quad!
Better come quick.
With every passing moment, these puppies grow older and less deserving of our attention.
Whoa whoa whoa!
Where do you people think you're going?
Uh, have you ever gone to a puppy parade halfway through, Britta?
It is pointless.
Then you clearly stole the pen.
The Patriot Act cuts both ways.
Actually, it's pretty one-sided.
That's kind of the point.
Here's my point.
Whoever's the pen thief is just stood there and watched me get Guantanamoed.
And I'd like to know who it is, so I can let them know that they have lost my trust forever.
It's a bottle episode.
Britta, we're sorry we embarrassed you and looked at your prophylactic equipment.
Your lifestyle mistakes are none of our business.
Oh, thanks, Shirley.
But now let's rustle through your tampons and wallet so we can apologize to you.
Oh, I'm sure everybody here knows that I don't steal.
Have you checked your bag, Shirley?
If you took it by mistake, I forgive you.
Oh, so if I took it, it's larceny, but if you find it under mother hen, it's a mistake.
Mother hen? I think we're about the same age.
Sure, unless time is linear.
I'll make your ass linear.
That doesn't make any sense.
I'll make ya ass sense.
Girls, don't get your panties puckered.
We all know what we're really thinking.
If... and I mean if... the culprit is among us, statistically speaking, it's Troy.
Yes, we were all just thinking that in 1856.
What if a ghost took the pen?
Please forgive him. For what?
For stealing the pen, dummy.
Why would I take her pen?
I don't even like having my own.
It's probably under one of Pierce's casts.
He uses everything to itch his legs.
We're on our third DVD remote.
If I took the pen, I'd say so.
You probably forgot.
You've been popping painkillers like tic-tacs.
Oh, yeah, right.
"Side effects: Verbal dysphasia"
"and octopus loss."
I don't see anything on this squirrel about memory, Troy.
Now I want to know who has it.
Yeah, nice try Shirley, that doesn't take you off the list.
Jeff, you're in charge.
I demand you deal with this There's nothing to deal with.
Ok, alright, alright.
You know what this is? Yep.
Shut up. This is a normal day with a bunch of friends who are done studying and a pen that maybe rolled away.
"Rolled away"? Or fell down someone's shoe.
Let's check shoes. Annie!
Someone in this room is hiding your pen.
Want to know why?
They feel terrible.
They made a mistake.
They waited too long come forward, and now they feel bad.
They should. Mm-hmm!
Okay. Okay, so, pen thief, we understand what happened, and we forgive you.
If you confess and apologize! Yes.
Right. But here's the trick.
Because this person now has no reason not to come forward, if, by some chance, I get to the count of three, and nobody comes forward, guess what.
We have to accept that no one has the pen, don't we?
Good so here we go.
Pierce, you have something to tell us?
Yes. Is it me, or has it become really obvious that Jeff took the pen.
You want to make a bet, you jerks?
Lockdown! Abed, seal the doors.
Nobody leaves until this pen shows up.
I don't like this.
Yeah? Tell it to the pen you might have.
Gwynnifer? Hi. Yeah, it's me.
I can't make it.
Well, tell your disappointment to suck it.
I'm doing a bottle episode!
You just became my hero.
I can see that.
Why do you keep taking that tone with me?
Oh, I'll field that because if nobody else has this pen, it means at so point, you realized you had it and were too embarrassed to say, and we get to kill you.
I'm not hiding my own pen, you paranoid weirdo.
Everybody stay within each other's eyelines, please.
One of you's a monster.
Me next, right? Hold on.
Can we please consider the threshold that we are crossing?
We don't trust Abed?
He shredded my backpack.
He freed my pet monkey.
Because we corrupted him.
He's our innocent.
He put gum in your hair.
Empty the bag, Abed.
Uh, Pierce, you don't have a bag? Giraffe.
Uh, Jeff, you don't have a bag?
Oh, I could never deprive the world of the portion of my chest the strap would cover.
Makes sense. So what's left?
Shirley, a little hugging and crying, and then we're done?
Wait, Abed, why is my name in here?
And Shirley's and Annie's?
What is it?
Some kind of calendar?
That's my personal private business.
Annie, 4 on, 28 off, next, November 10th.
Britta, 5 on, 27 off...
Oh my God. Are you charting our menstrual cycles?
Abed, this is so personal!
And so accurate.
Abed, this is really creepy.
I don't understand why you would do this.
I can explain.
Oh. I thought you'd keep yelling over me.
Okay, I can explain.
You know I have trouble reading people, and say the wrong things, sometimes, and I noticed it was happening more often with you three than it was with the others.
And then I noticed fluctuating patterns, and I started graphing them, and by the time I realized what I was actually measuring, it had started to yield really positive results for everybody, so I kept doing it.
Were you ever gonna tell us about this?
I... I feel so violated.
Oh! Get away from me!
Abed just became my hero.
Can I have a little... No!
Guess it's true what they say about the sync-up.
Okay, if I could just take this time to share a few words of sarcasm with whoever it is that took this pen.
I want to say thank you for doing this to me for a while I thought I'd have to suffer through a puppy parade, but I much prefer being entombed alive in a mausoleum of feelings I can neither understand nor reciprocate.
So whoever you are, can I get you anything?
Ice cream? Best friend medal?
Okay, sarcasm over.
You're last up, Shirley.
Dump your comedically huge bag and end this.
Uh, no, thank you.
Well, well, well, Harvey Keitel.
Well, what do you know, Henry David Thoreau.
My oh my, Mike Tyson just empty the bag.
No! I don't have Annie's pen.
I'm simply a Christian woman that doesn't open her bag.
What did the Christian woman think would happen when we got to her bag?
The Christian woman thought you'd find it on the Muslim.
Nicer than you, condom carrier!
Dump the bag or you're guilty! No!
Oh, Lord, he's thrown a clot!
Pierce! Call 911!
No! No! No!
Pierce, you didn't need to do that.
Yes, I did.
All you guys do is talk, leaving me to do the things you won't do.
People like you are the reason we took so long to get into Vietnam.
Is this what you were trying to hide, Shirley?
A pregnancy test?
And more importantly, are they seriously marketing pregnancy tests to black women guys! This is a terribly childish way to handle this kind of situation.
Does this mean you have a new boyfriend?
Who, who, who?
Not that it's, uh, anyone's business...
I recently reconnected with my husband over Labor Day, and it seems the Lord may have a plan for us that doesn't include that stripper slut he ran away with.
You're not pregnant, Shirley. It's impossible.
Why does everybody think I'm old?
I'm around Jeff's age! I have a uterus!
No, no. According to my charts, you couldn't have conceived Labor Day weekend you would have been ovulating on Halloween.
Which is just as well, because if you're gonna have a pregnant woman in one of these, I say go elevator labor or go home.
Well, that's that, then.
Yeah, what a relief.
Looks like someone narrowly avoided a "lifestyle mistake" of their own.
Oh! Or is it only bad if you sleep with unmarried men?
The Bible doesn't recognize divorce, Britta!
When you marry a man, he's your man!
Yeah, and after he marries someone else, if you jump into the sack with him, you're an angel, so long as you don't use protection?
I'm so glad you're enjoying this.
And I hope whoever stole that pen enjoys it in hell!
Nice try, Stephen Fry. "Stephen Fry."
We all have an agreement.
Nobody leaves till we find it.
Oh Get off. Here we go.
We are gonna find this pen!
We are gonna find that pen!
Oh! And if we can't find it, our children will find it!
Is it over here in these books?
This pen? This incredible, magical pen that nobody knows how it could disappear?
Oh, maybe it's right in here!
Guys, this is school property!
Can we just forget it?
It's a pen!
It's a pen now?
It's not a principle anymore now it's a pen?
Why the change of heart?
You're not seriously accusing me.
We searched my bag!
Which is exactly the last place you'd put it if you found it halfway through all this.
In fact, assuming that one of us does have the pen, who among us has the most incentive to make sure it never sees the light of day?
You want to go there? Yeah.
I'll go there. Okay.
I was born there. Really?
There's a placard the commemorating me!
What's going on, and how can I help?
No, you relax, Jeff.
Or are you scared that if you do, my pen will fall out?
You precocious little bitch!
Okay, guys, guys! Hey!
You're being complely illogical!
We need to flip up the table, divide the group by gender, and then search each other in our underwear.
Everybody shake. Enough to dislodge.
Okay, anything hit the floor?
What are those underwear made out of?
They look luxurious.
Oh. They're an organic soy-cotton blend.
This Gwynnifer must be real special.
Don't you usually wear the stripey turquoise beetlejuice numbers?
What does she mean "usually"?
All right, end of the road.
We've torn apart the room, we've stripped.
There is absolutely no place left...
Damn it. Broke my scissors.
Here. Be careful.
This is the last pair we have.
Also, don't cut his legs.
I'm worried we've gone too far.
This is how super villains are created.
Can't you just make an inspiring Winger speech about trust, throw in a few digs at an easy celebrity target, and put a ribbon on this thing?
Abed, think about this for one second if a single one of us leaves this room before we find that pen, how can any of us trust anyone in this group ever again?
What's your hurry?
I'm clothing myself.
I'm not comfortable standing around in my all-together like you two anorex jeze...
Oh! I'm so sorry.
That was really mean.
I don't know where that came from.
We've all been through a lot today.
And I'm sure this pregnancy scare been weighing on you all week, right?
And maybe that's why you took my pen?
Where are you hiding it, judgy beans?
All right, here we go.
It smells like a Waffle House sink!
Pierce, are you using Slim Jims to scratch your legs?
Have we not gotten to a place free of judgment yet?
This isn't it, this isn't it.
Where is it? Where's the pen?
Where's the pen?!
Where's the pen?
It's getting a little chilly outside, so the animal wranglers have asked that every student pick up a puppy and hold it, so they stay warm while the volunteers hand out tiny, puppy-sized hats.
Honestly, I don't know why I'm even making these announcements.
There can't be anyone who isn't already on the quad!
Annie, I'd just like to say, on behalf of whoever actually stole this pen, I really am sorry about all this.
I knew it was you.
I knew it was you.
All I know is it could be any of you.
And for all we know, it's you.
I wish it were. I really do.
I wish I could just find it behind my ear.
I'd rather be that stupid than think that anyone of us might be this inconsiderate.
After all we've been through, it almost seems impossible.
It seems less than impossible.
Something impossible actual seems more likely.
Here we go.
Winger speech to take us home.
What if a ghost took the pen?
Let him finish I am finished.
For real, honestly, seriously, why not?
Why not just "a ghost took the pen"?
Okay, I've been saying that for hours.
And we should've listening to Troy from the beginning.
Guys, look in your hearts and answer this question honestly:
What's more likely?
That someone in this group doesn't belong in this group?
If we have to choose between turning on each other or pinning it on some specter with unfinished, pen-related business, I'm sorry, but my money's on ghost.
Well, I'm not a religious person, but I've seen specials on the paranormal.
Relative to the alternative, it actually seems more logical to me.
Why would a ghost want a pen?
So I see it as a lot like the movie paranormal activity, except for more boring and fancy.
And I think in 1856, it is possible that a man was beheaded while he was writing in his diary to his long lost love, and now he roams the halls of Greendale screaming for his pen so he can write her a love letter.
"I need her! I need her!" he screams, as he looked for a pen.
What the hell did you people do in there?
Something you and your puppies could only dream of you non-miraculous son of a bitch.