Eric’s POV

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Eric's POV

Janice and Greg are in front of the copy shop eating lunch off each other's teeth. Eugene is placidly cutting paper. Alice storms out. "Let's meet Celeste at Abujay's," she steams. So Greg thinks Janice is sleeping with Abujay, and there's a part that's way too long where they bellow at each other, and no one cares. Kyle just slices away at paper, ignoring all the Mary J. Blige-style hateration and holleration, because he too knows they're tertiary characters and it's time to switch back to more important people. Eric grabs the phone and announces that he's calling Lizzie. "I tried to stop him," lies Eugene, who hasn't moved from his spot. Greg can't believe Eric's still stuck on Lizzie, and calls her a whore, which riles Eric and turns this scene into something slightly more serious than I was expecting. I'm not mature enough for this. Eric and Greg almost come to blows, but Eugene wends his ample way between them and the whole scuffle flies to the corner of the room, where they crash against a copier with a shattering sound.

CopierCam. We see Eric peering down at us, and there's a big crack across us. Eugene and Greg gawk, too. "Oh, God, the Worksetter Pro," moans Eric, burying his face in his hands. This has gone too far. Now it's personal. When you mess with him, that's one thing, but when you mess with one of his little mechanical children, it's Go Time. So that it doesn't get uglier, Eric screams at Eugene and Greg to get the hell away from him. They disappear, then try one more gawk before Eric shoos them completely. Alone, Eric weeps for the broken Worksetter that is his heart.

Lizzie's hair is now totally frizzed out. It's all one color, but that color is best described as "manure." She is certain suicide is her only option. Steven cavalierly suggests that she just dye it back. "It's not that simple, Steven!" she menaces. "If I dye my hair too many times it will all fall out, and if I don't, I'll look like Shrek!" Steven sarcastically apologizes for not understanding the intricacies of beautification. "Stop yelling at me!" Lizzie screams. Everyone sort of jumps backward.

And then, a beacon of hope: Perry. When I find myself in times of trouble, Brother Perry comes to me, speaking words of wisdom: Let it be. Perry peeks into the room, confident that he can cure a bad dye job. "This is neither the time nor the place," Steven says, certain that Perry brings with him a whole bag of tomfoolery, complete with hijinks and a dash of wacky misadventure. But no, Perry's sincere -- he's been coloring his prematurely gray locks since age fifteen. "Really?" gasps Lizzie. "Oh, okay, now I'm the freak? Yeah, stick with that, Garfield," Perry smarms, without stopping for oxygen. Lizzie hesitantly asks if he's positive he can fix her hair. "Have you seen me?" he grins. "I'll get my stuff." Steven admits that Perry's hair would definitely win Best in Show if this was a dog contest, and Perry a terrier. A Perr-ier. Hee.

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