Pops. Yo, Pops. I found your Mustache Monthly. (Puts Pops' Moustaches Monthly on a chair and turns his head around, before seeing Pops, just out of the shower and naked.) AAAAAGH!
Aaaaagh!
Aaaaagh!
Aaaaagh!
Aaaaagh! (In all the confusion, he now catches a glimpse of Pops' "junk mail".)
Aaaaagh! (Pops covers his "junk mail" with his hat. Mordecai covers his eyes. They both try to leave but they're in each other's ways".)
(breathing) Uh... uh... uh... uh...
(breathing) Uh... uh... uh... uh...
(Mordecai finally escapes Pops' room as Pops goes into his bathroom. Mordecai goes downstairs and sits on the couch.)
Stop playing for a second. When I went upstairs, Pops was getting out of the shower.
Yeah, so?
And he didn't have a towel.
Ewww!
I tried not to look and just give him the magazine, but I saw his...
His junk mail? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
No, dude, I'm mentally scarred. It's like the image is glued in the inside of my eyelids. Every saggy, wrinkled, shriveled, pasty...
Whoa, whoa! Don't put it in my head!
This is your fault! You have to help me!
I'll help you to forget it if you promise to stop talking about it.
Deal.
(They shake hands.)
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