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Hansel and Gretel
[On a lazy Sunday afternoon, the guys from 98* are in their tour bus, doing the usual. Drew's organizing his 15,156,189,199 hats by color, Nick's fantasizing about women, Jeff's ironing out his bras, and Justin is looking up random numbers in a local phone book.] Drew: Hey, what's darker, charcoal or deep gray? Nick: Aren't they the same thing? Jeff: Well, according to my Victoria's Secret color chart, charcoal. Justin: Doesn't matter to me. I have a little BLACK book, not charcoal or deep gray. Drew: Uh, thanks... I think. (Arranges hats) Justin: (talking on phone) Uh... hello, is this the residence of a Miss Beatrice Scott? How old are ya, babe? Uh... 67? Uh... thank you and have a nice day. (hangs up) Why are all these chicks over 50??!! Jeff: Maybe cause that phone book is a directory for a nursing home, dumbass. Justin: Why didn't you guys tell me that before?! Nick: Uh... we just figured that you were getting REALLY desperate for a date and resorting to nursing homes! Drew: Yeah, you can't get a date with anyone else... Justin: Y-you guys are so mean to me! I'm using the Red Book! Nick: No! Wait! (Justin opens the book and they all disappear.)
[The guys are standing in front of a house made of candy.] Drew: Justin, for once I'm glad that you opened that book. Jeff: But we can't eat! We have to watch our figures so that the teenage girls have something to swoon over! Justin: Uh... candy goes straight to your boobs... Jeff: I guess we must make sacrifices. (They all start eating. Out comes the witch.) Witch: Hey, where are those two little brats who are supposed to come by? Nick: Don't ask us, lady. Witch: Ah well, I suppose you'll have to do. Justin: Uh... hey baby. I'll, uh, DO you anytime. Witch: What the...? Drew: Nah, doing all the chicks -or at least lying about doing them- is Nick's job. Nick: At least I'm tall enough to get a girl other than Little Orphan Annie! Drew: Too bad you're short in another area, bitch. Nick: You little brat! (They start fighting. During their fight, the witch somehow gets involved and is squished.) Jeff: Uh, I think she's dead, guys. Justin: Whoa. Does this mean we get to eat the house?
[In come Hansel and Gretel, walking down the lane.] Hansel: Hey, what the hell are you guys doing here? This is NOT in the script!! Drew: Well, we're bigger than you, so there. Gretel: Maybe those three are, but not you, shorty. Nick: (gazing at Gretel) I know that milk does a body good, but damn, how much have you been drinking? Justin: EEWWW!! YOU PEDOPHILE! (mutters to self) How come Nick always gets to the ladies first? Nick: Er, Gretel, is it? What a lovely name. It fits you. Gretel: Um... are you flirting with me? Nick: Call it what you will... Drew: How old are you guys again? Hansel: Listen pal, we were brought up in a log cabin in the woods. Do you think that we learned how to count? Justin: OK... let's put it this way: How many summers have you lived? Gretel: (interrupts) I've learned how to count, unlike Hansel here, who spends all of his time in the outhouse doing God-knows-what... (throws Hansel a Look) I'm 10 and he's 11. Nick: Cool! My cutoff age is 10 exactly! Gretel... how would you like to get a tour of the bedroom? (He takes Gretel's hand and leaves.) Jeff: Nick, you disgust me. Drew: (smirks) It's not like he'll be getting anything done. Not with that ordurve pickle anyway.
[Five minutes later...] Gretel: (comes running out of house) HANSEL!! HELP MEEEE! Hansel: What's the matter? Gretel: He tried to attack me with a baby's thumb he keeps hidden in his pants!! Nick: (zipping up pants) What? What did I do? Jeff: That's it. Before we get sued for child molestation, we are LEAVING. (Opens the Red Book. They all vanish.)
[Back on the bus...] Nick: I'm telling you guys, I scored with her! Honest!! Jeff: Ugh. You are so gross, you kiddie porn freak. Get away from me. Drew: Nick, give it up. You didn't score and we all know it. Justin: (munches on part of a gingerbread wall he stashed in his pocket) Oh well. At least the trip wasn't a total waste. This gingerbread kicks ass.