[looking in notebook] Abed, why is my name in here?
That's mine.
And Shirley's and Annie's?
What is it?
Charts. Some kind of calendar?
That's my personal private business.
[reading] "Annie: 4 on, 28 off, next, November 10th. Britta: 5 on, 27 off..." Oh, my God, are you charting our menstrual cycles?
What?! Gross!
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. [Pause] Oh, I thought you'd keep yelling over me. Okay, I can explain. You know I have trouble reading people, and I 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.
. . .
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 had 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? Anything? Mmm-mmmm? Okay, sarcasm over.
