"I Hate To Be Emo, But..." / Emobusters

(A few men are gathered around in a house. They all look like they are tired out or discouraged. One man is leaning against a counter with his arms crossed, one man is facerubbing and sweating, and one man seems to be on edge.)

Male #1: "Well now what are we gonna do?"

Male #2: "I hate to be emo, but there's really nothing we can--"

Male #3: "--Stop. Stop right fucking now. Trust me...if you want to live to see tomorrow...just leave it at that: 'I hate to be emo'. I don't want anyone getting hurt, so just stop talking."

Male #2: "Seriously, though, there's not much we can do now, considering--"

Male #3: "I saw that fucking Taking Back Sunday CD when I was going through your room, what are you trying to pull?!?"

Male #2: "Why were you going through my room?!?"

Male #3: "I was doing the weekly emo check. You've failed every fucking week, do you know that?!? You're getting closer and closer to being emo every week, I can't stand losing a good friend to emo. It hurts me to see you always slipping more and more into emo. I'm the only one who cares enough about you to make sure you don't officially become classified as emo."

Male #1: "I care about him too. I have indeed been noticing a tightening in the pants and he even wore a scarf one day...indoors."

Male #3: "Holy shit, I didn't know the scarf thing happened. We could make a great team, we could be watching him at all times, if we work together. This is an emergency now. It's a code 6."

Male #1: "A code 6. Alright, I'm in. We'll be a team, and we'll watch this almost-emo fuck every single waking hour of his life, and every sleeping hour, too."

Male #2: "You guys, I'm right here...it's not like I can't hear you."

Male #3: "I hope you can fucking hear us, you Hawthorne-Heightsl-listening piece-of-shit.

Male #1: "You better listen up, you small-font-typing, My-Space-having mothafucker."

Male #3: "Fuck, he has a MySpace! I didn't know that, this definitely changes things. Alright, we have to get started. Wait, does he take pictures of himself and put them on there, sometimes using a mirror."

Male #1: "Yes, and he also doesn't capitalize any letters, types in small font, and emphasizes certain words by bolding them and making them bigger, on his MySpace."

Male #3: "Oh my God, why didn't I know this?!? Fuck, I'm so stupid. I've wasted so much time. We have to get started now. We'll call ourselves the Emo-Busters, and we'll be heroes to all, even if they don't know it, yet. Maybe we'll become famous, get a movie deal / television series, etc. Let's start on the homefront first, though, and worry about what needs to be done. This has to stop, and it has to stop now. We can't let this get anymore out of control. We're gonna fucking kill him--"

Male #2: "WHAT?!?"

Male #3: "As I was saying, before that low-confidence-having, dad-hating emo queer interrupted me, we're going to fucking kill him right now before he spreads it any further, and we're going to chop up his body parts and put them in the dumpster outside."

Male #1: "Sounds good to me."

(Male #2 is getting really scared at this point, but he has been cornered and has nowhere to go, except hell.)

Male #3: "Say hi to the emo devil for me, and tell him we're coming for him soon."

(They kill him, chop up his body parts and put them in the dumpster outside, 'cos he's emo, or was about to turn 100% emo, and they can't take any chances.)