INT. JOE'S PARENT'S HOUSE - JOE'S ROOM - NIGHT
Joe and Max sit side-by-side on Joe's unmade twin-size bed.
Joe: Hi I'm Joe!
Max: And I'm Max!
Joe: We're friends -
Both: (voices joined) and we're wingin' it!
(look at each other and smile)
Joe: It all started when we went to the bar to grab a couple brewskies.
Max: (interjecting) One of the most cherished American rituals that can be enjoyed between two hot-blooded... Americans.
Joe: And split a plate of hot wings, between friends.
Max: Yeah, I picked you up from your parents' house and we headed to the bar.
Joe: But when we got there it was super crowded!
Max: Super crowded (makes a scrunched up face)
Joe: Like an hour wait.
Max: Yeah! The hostess was all like "It will be about an hour." (imitating the waitress in whiney, annoying voice)
Max: That's when you suggested that we eat outside, but it was really cold out.
Joe: Yeah it was almost cold enough to need gloves but not quite. I think I was wearing a hoodie and a hat. (Joe fits imaginary hat on his head as demonstration of concept of wearing a hat)
Max: But I gave you back the jacket you had left at my (voices join excitedly) house (smile and look at eachother)
Joe: So I guess I sort of had two jackets. (Max chuckles) And you were wearing that stupid big puffy jacket. (Max immediately stops chuckling) And a sweater that I really liked, I think it was red.
Max: My jacket isn't stupid! You're stupid!
Joe: I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. Still friends?
Max: Still friends.
Joe: Good. So even though you had that stupid puffy jacket, you didn't like my suggestion that we eat outside.
Max: I was willing, but more as a last resort, it was cold outside.
Joe: So we wandered around, looking for a spot at the bar, and ended up getting seats on those big, comfortable, puffy leather couches. It was crowded but we totally lucked out.
Max: Puffy and comfortable like my stupid jacket!
Joe: We were having a conversation about ebooks and the DMCA. It was a good conversation.
Joe: And we ordered the same beer, the 'FYIPA'. I noticed it was stout month and mentioned that I don't like stouts, and you agreed, and it hit me that we're friends AND we like the same stuff. Pretty cool.
Max: I don't know Joe, I think liking the same thing is usually part of friendship.
Joe: Sure, but it's still special when it happens. I'm just pointing out how it makes us even closer - even better friends.
Max: OK Joe yeah we're the closest friends.
Joe: Woah, don't get all sarcastic on me.
Max: Look, it's not that I don't think were friends but I just thought we were going to talk about the wings, aren't we including a somewhat excessive amount of preamble?
Joe: That's another example! We both like wings! Spicy wings!
Max: Spicy Wings - YES - let's talk about that!
Joe: Oh man, those wings were good.
Max: They were super good. Tim's style. I'd never had them before.
Joe: Yeah, my buddy told me about them, they're not on the menu. They're breaded and fried and tossed in hot sauce, then they put them on the grill, and they serve them topped with diced jalepenos.
Max: I thought it was super cool how you knew something off the menu, it made me feel like we were part of a secret club. But hold on, maybe you should explain to the reader about (looks at camera) Tim's style (makes sliding hands movement like cool surfer)
Joe: I'd love to talk about (makes same surfer sliding hand movement) Tim's style (chuckles lightly). Tim's style is where they fry the wings first in hot, fresh oil for just long enough to make them crispy. They really get the timing right, and they're really crispy, unlike the average, soggy, floppy, deep fried chicken wings (gets serious) that the gluttonous American populous has been so conditioned to let slide down their throats. (lightens up) Tim isn't satisfied with his wings yet, though. He likes his wings to be thrown on the grill after the fryer, infusing them with a truly delectable smoky richness. (Smiles nostalgically)
Max: And these were really big wings. Really juicy. Not too much breading, just about right to make them crispy and hold the sauce well. We got blue cheese on the side but it didn't taste much like blue cheese. There were carrots and celery too. We didn't really eat any of those until we got bored at the end.
Joe: Unfortunately at the time we didn't know we were going to parlay this awesome buddy's night into a blog-worthy full-on series. And that is the reason we forgot to provide rich visual content to the reader.
Max: That's okay - here's a stock photo to give the reader an idea of what we reveled in last night:
Not a good representation of last night's wings
Joe: Yeah, our wings looked way better, but we will be sure to include a visual report (aka photograph) of next week's wings.
Max: You know, I usually don't even really like breaded wings because of the sogginess potential. But these were different. These were breaded and were good not in spite of, butbecause, of their breadiness. (Max looks like he just realized something very profound)
Joe: Damn those were good wings. The FYIPA was a little hoppy to pair with food, but it wasn't crazy, it was sort of refreshing and had a nice bite that cut the greasiness of the wings. However, I propose that we pair our next visit to spicy-town with a lightweight, shitty beer. Coors.
Max: I agree - good point Joe.
Max: Those wings were really greasy, the grease dripped from your mouth, down to your fingers and down your palms, and onto your forearm, and down your tricep, and down into your shirt where I couldn't see it anymore. It was pretty gross. But they were good. Really spicy, but the sort of spice that hits you up front and doesn't stick around or build.
Joe: The spice was pretty perfect for me too. Spicy enough for a kick, intense at the time, but you know what you're dealing with and it's probably not going to hurt your butthole the next day.
Max: Good wings, buddy.
Joe: Good wings.
Max: Are we done here?
Joe: Yeah I guess we're done.
Max: So what are we doing next?
Joe: I guess we'll go eat some more wings next week.
Max: Cool. (turns to camera) I'm Max.
Joe: (forgets to turn to camera) I'm Joe.
Both: And we're wingin' it.
(look at each other and awkwardly laugh)
