This week, Me (the rational one), Myself (the IRrational one) and I (half as bright as a two-watt bulb) prove they can have a somewhat constructive conversation — well, almost.
Uknown Narrator: [In a TV-Announcer voice] The Internal Steelers Struggle will not be seen today...
Me: Wait, what?
Uknown Narrator: ...due to technical difficulties...
Me: Techni-WHAT?! We’re voices in someone’s head! What “technical difficulties” can we possibly have??!
Narrator: stemming from the Steelers technically getting their posterior parts kicked all over Heinz FIeld...
Me: Waaaaaait a minute...
Uknown Narrator: ...instead, here is a video of puppies.
Me: I know that voice! [Walks angrily to the couch and looks behind it, seeing Myself]
Myself: We now return you to your regularly scheduled lunacy. [Smiles sheepishly and switches to his normal voice] Umm...pay no attention to the man behind the sofa?
Me: If you only had a brain, Scarecrow.
Myself: No, that’s your “Little Buddy” over there. [Points to I] I just have no heart.
Me: Well, you’re not in Kansas anymore, either. Get out here.
Myself: [Comes out from behind the couch]
Me: Why did you try to cancel us?
Myself: I don’t want to talk about that game.
Me: I don’t either. But getting it out is therapeutic.
Myself: I don’t need therapy.
I: I beg to differ.
Myself: Look, kid, quit using phrases you heard on television.
Me: Give him a break. He actually used it right.
Myself: Blind squirrels, nuts...you know how it goes.
Me: Whatever. Let’s discuss that travesty of a football game.
Myself: [Crosses his arms] I don’t want to.
Me: Well, I’m going to start talking whether you like it or not.
Myself: [Angrily] Fine! We can talk about it. But give me a second before we do.
Me: Why? What do you plan to—
Myself: [Walks out]
Me: —do first? [Turns to I] He can really be annoying sometimes.
I: He’s annoying all the time. And mean.
Me: Did you watch the game?
Me: Why not?
I: I was...busy.
Me: With what?
I: I don’t want to say.
Me: Why not?
I: [Hangs his head] It’s embarrassing.
Me: What could possibly be more embarrassing that when he tricked you into thinking that bowl full of sawdust was actually Grape Nuts?
I: [Glares at me]
Me: Come on, tell me.
Myself: [Re-enters room wearing a black suit, white shirt and necktie] He locked himself in his room.
Me: But how...I don’t...the...the lock is on the inside.
I: [Hangs his head] That’s why it’s embarrassing.
Myself: Okay, how are you going to defend your “Little Buddy” this time, oh White Knight?
Me: I...I got nothin’. [Looks closer at Myself and notices what he’s now wearing] Why are you wearing that suit?
Myself: I’m mourning.
Me: It’s football.
Me: It’s a game.
Myself: It’s the Steelers.
Me: Touche. So, what happened?
Myself: Todd Haley is the best defensive coordinator in history.
Me: He’s an offensive coordinator.
Myself: That’s funny, because he did an amazing job of preventing the Steelers from scoring points. Or moving the ball. Or looking like they even knew what a football is.
Me: It was pretty doggone bad. Five interceptions...I know one bad game is skewing his stats right now, but the only time Ben Roethlisberger threw interceptions at a higher rate was 2006 — the year he decided to put his face through the windshield of a Buick and later had his appendix removed just before the season started.
Myself: Maybe they should put it back. It might be an improvement now.
I: [Matter-of-factly, while eating a sandwich] He needs to stop staring down Antonio Brown every time he throws the ball.
Me & Myself: [Look at each other]
Myself: Did he just...makes sense...about football?!
Me: [Confusedly] Yeah...
I: [Mockingly, while still eating] “Don’t listen to I! He’s dumber than a brick of Jell-O! Ooooooh!”
Myself: Maybe we’ve been underestimat—
Me: What’s wrong, Little Buddy?
I: [Wiping peanut butter and jelly from his forehead] I just poked myself in the eye with my sandwich!
Myself: Nevermind. We’ve been over-estimating him.
Is this fixable?
Me: Of course it is. It’s just peanut butter.
Mysterious Question Guy: Not that, you idiot. The Steelers.
Myself: That was weird.
Me: [Looking all around the room] Yo, Question Guy, wherever you are: you don’t get a speaking part between questions! It’s gonna confuse the audience!
I: [Suddenly looks scared] Audience?
Myself: [Leans over and whispers to Me] Dude...you just broke the Fourth Wall.
Me: [With a worried look] What did you say?
[Cue Twilight Zone music]
I: Do they see me when I’m getting dressed?!
Myself: [Attempting damage control] Nevermind! Ignore it! It never happened!
I: [Whispers with a horrified expression] Do they see me when I pee? [Slowly, conspicuously ducks behind the couch]
Myself: [Panicked] Now you’ve done it! You broke him! He’s gonna be impossible to live with from now on — you know that, right?!
Me: Just calm down. Everything is fine. Everything is just...[looks around slowly]...fine. Let’s just answer the question.
Myself: [Clears his throat and adjusts his tie nervously] Ummm...yeah, it’s fixable. They could start by replacing Haley with someone who doesn’t believe that the best way to victory is to attack your opponents’ strengths head-on, but the Rooneys are the most loyal owners in sports. That’ll never happen.
Me: [Still looking around the room now and then] So, what can they do?
Myself: Gameplan better, execute better. Everyone has to be bett—
I: [Still from behind the couch] They can still see me back here, can’t they?
Myself: [Kicks couch] Shut up, Kid.
Me: [Appears to be listening for something]
Myself: What are you doing?
Me: Waiting for the laugh track.
Predictions for Week Six?
Myself: The Steelers win a close game. 30-28. [Points at Me] And this Jackwagon finds a new way to freak out the Kid.
Me: You need to find some original insults.
Myself: What do you mean?
Me: That’s the second straight episode you’ve called me a “Jackwagon”.
Myself: [Sinisterly whispers] You...just...[suddenly gets very loud] did it again!
I: [Whimpers from behind the couch]
Myself: [Breathes heavily] What’s wrong with you, Kid?
I: I’m scared to come out. I’m scared of...them.
Myself: So? Stay there, then.
I: ...I have to pee.