That '70s Show (1998–2006): Season 4, Episode 8 - Donna's Story - full transcript
Donna writes a nasty story in the school paper, obviously taking the mickey out of Eric albeit under fake names and playing in the Victorian age, so when schoolgirls see trough the pseudonyms and scold him as cat-killer, he tries to write his own version... Red is startled that Bob has found a new lady friend -bossy Joanne, who picked him up shopping- and furious as she insists on doing the grilling, in Red's view at the very core of manhood. Kelso hasn't bought a dress for Jackie but half of the pinball machine in the diner, hoping for a 50% profit even each time he plays it; alas nobody else does, and Fez surprises with business sense...
- Oh, Wanda.
- Oh, Derek.
- Oh, Wanda.
- Yes, Derek?
You're not just
my next-door neighbor.
You're also
the love of my life.
Derek, I, too, have strong
feelings of love for you...
but I have to give back
this promise ball and chain.
I must leave
Point Upon the Place...
and explore the world
with my trusty cat named Sir Bonkers.
No.
I'll never let you go.
- You can't make me stay.
- Oh, no?
What if I told you that I've run over
the cat named Sir Bonkers...
and the cat named
Sir Bonkers is no more?
Now submit
and be my wife!
Derek, once you were
a kind, peaceful man...
but love
has made you wicked.
Oh, I am wicked.
And until you agree
to be my wife...
I will scour the earth
in search of cats named "Sir Bonkers"...
and I will kill
them all!
Or at very least,
spray them with water...
which everyone knows
they hate.
I can't believe Donna would
publish this in the school paper.
I know. This could be in Reader's Digest.
It's that good.
Oh, this is the worst short story by
an ex-girlfriend in a school newspaper ever.
Well, if it isn't Playboy reading,
panty-loving, cat-killing Derek.
I know.
How could Donna write this?
Why are you upset? It's this Derek
guy who really gets the shaft.
Fez, I am Derek.
Everything always
has to be about you.
Fez, man, think about it.
Eric killed Donna's cat.
Derek killed Wanda's cat.
Donna found panties
in Eric's Vista Cruiser.
Wanda found a chastity belt
in Derek's Vista Carriage.
Hey, you guys, you know what goes
really good with a bad short story?
Pinball!
- No. I hate pinball.
- Hate it or love it?
- Hate it.
- Or love it?
Come on, guys. I'm gonna buy a
50-dollar stake in this machine...
so let's play
so I can make some money.
Where'd you get $50?
- From Jackie.
- Hey.
Oh, hey, Jackie.
Can I borrow $50?
- For what?
- To buy a dress for you.
Okay.
Wait a minute.
Eric, Derek.
Panties, chastity belt.
Dead cat, dead cat.
Oh-ho-ho!
I still got nothing.
Come on, Red.
Bob really wants us to meet
his new lady friend.
Now, think about it,
Kitty.
She likes Bob.
I have a hard time believing
this woman even exists.
We're gonna get over there,
Bob's gonna be sittin' in a rocker...
with a lady's wig on.
"You look lovely
tonight, Bob."
"So do you, Bob."
You've been working on that
all day, haven't you?
Yeah.
Red, Kitty, I'd like you to meet
a very special lady... Joanne.
Well, Joanne,
it is so nice to meet you.
- Right, Red?
- We can't stay long.
Ah, Red. Bob warned me
you can be a pain in the ass.
Well, I'll tell you what.
We'll just have dinner...
and if it turns out you don't like me,
we'll never invite you over again.
Really?
I like you already.
Well, let's get this barbecue started.
Bob, grab that meat.
Oh, I got it, Red.
Why don't you fellas make a salad?
Salad.
Oh, you're serious.
No, see, Bob and I
do the grilling.
Not this time.
Kitty, you wanna give me a hand?
- Well, I'd love to.
- Oh, I don't think...
But, Kitty, you might...
set your lovely hair
on fire.
Well, it can't be that hard.
You do it.
Bob, what the hell's
goin' on here?
Look, Red,
I really like this woman...
so please, for today,
just shut it.
Shut it?
Good God, Bob!
Is she teaching you
to stand up for yourself?
- Yes.
- Well, cut it out!
I want to have a nice time.
Come on.
I'll give you first dibs
on the aprons.
You want the fake tuxedo
or the fake hairy chest?
Oh, damn it.
Give me the tuxedo!
Whoo-hoo! Hairy chest is Joanne's favorite.
It's probably
'cause she's got one.
Ah! Well, if it isn't
the wielder of the poison pen.
- Didn't you like my story?
- No. No, I didn't.
That's why I said
"poison pen"...
not... "marshmallow pen."
What?
- This story is about us.
- No, it's not.
You took stuff from our life
and put 'em in your story.
Like the time you found
those Playboys under my bed.
Begone, Sir Bonkers.
Derek, look what I found
under your bed.
Lewd renderings of
naked serving wenches.
Did you commission these?
So what if I did?
I have needs, woman.
Now, ready thyself.
On this night... we fornicate.
Okay, well, maybe there
are some similarities.
But that's what writers do.
I mean, we take stuff from our lives.
Yeah, but you made me mean all the time,
and that's mean.
Okay, maybe I exaggerated
some stuff...
'cause, you know, I'm writing
this for stupid high school girls.
Oh, my God!
Great story!
Michael, Steven just told me
that instead of buying me a dress...
you spent my $50
on this stupid machine.
Jackie, I did not.
Oh, yeah, I did.
Jackie, listen.
There's an old saying:
You buy a girl a dress,
and she looks pretty for one night.
But you buy her boyfriend a pinball machine,
and she looks pretty for life.
Okay, there's another
old saying, Michael:
You're dumb as dirt.
That's true.
That was in the yearbook.
Okay, okay. All right.
Listen, listen.
So, I bought a half stake
in this machine, all right?
So that means for every quarter
I put into it, I get half back.
That's a 50% profit!
Uh, actually, Kelso,
I think that's a 50% loss.
Fez, I know it's hard
for a foreigner...
to understand our complicated
capitalist system.
But we're dealing with quarters here,
not frogs or chickens.
Well, I'm not going to dignify
that with a response...
because I can't
think of one.
But when I do,
a good day to you.
- All right, Fez. Y...
- I said, kiss my ass.
So, you still mad?
No. No reason to be mad.
Your story is just a pathetic attempt to
rewrite history and make yourself look good.
I'm pretty sure everyone's gonna know
who the dill-hole is here.
Eric, it's just a story.
No one's gonna think
anybody's a dill-hole.
- Cat killer!
- Bastard!
Porn freak!
Okay, they could be
talking about anybody.
Hey, we're all
porn-freak bastards...
but he's the only one
who killed a cat.
Okay, okay. This school obviously needs
to hear the Eric Forman version of things...
A.K.A. The truth.
So I'm gonna write my own story.
Yeah. Yeah, that's right.
I'm throwing down
the gauntlet, baby.
Really? Okay, smarty,
what's a gauntlet?
A gauntlet?
What's a gauntlet?
What's a gauntlet?
I don't know,
but it's down, lady.
Boy, this chicken's delish. What a chef.
You really know your way
around a grill, Joanne.
Mine's dry.
No, it isn't.
It's tender and delicious.
Maybe if I chewed it
with some water.
Well, there's the hose.
- I don't like her anymore.
- Well, I do.
Kitty, I'm chopping vegetables...
Bob's telling me to shut it...
you're over there grilling
with Susan B. Damn Anthony.
Well, fine, Red.
If it bothers you...
we can invite them over,
and you can do the grilling.
But for now, I'd really appreciate it
if you'd just shut it.
If one more person
tells me to shut it...
What? You might
actually shut it?
Please, Wanda, you don't
have to boil me alive.
Killing your cat was
just a horrible accident.
I know, but I'm a witch.
Dear God, why is a nice,
sensitive guy like me...
dating a lying,
manipulative witch like you?
Well, maybe it's because
even witches have itches.
All is forgiven!
God, why do all my
stories end like that?
Don't stop. I like
where you were going.
All right, guys. It is time
to make a withdrawal...
from the First National
Bank of Pinball.
Oh, man.
No one's playing.
Well, I would've played, but my frogs
and chickens wouldn't fit into the slot.
All right. I know
what the problem is here.
This thing has been here for so long
that people have forgotten about it.
I just need to advertise. So, Jackie, put on
a bikini and stand in front of the machine.
Michael, I am not wearing a bikini in here.
It would cause a riot.
Okay, what if I just
put up flyers...
with a picture
of you in a bikini?
Yeah, okay. I mean,
it'll still draw a crowd...
but at least
they'll remain orderly.
Okay, so I just need some Magic Markers
and a picture of you in a bikini.
Oh. I have one.
Keep it.
I have plenty.
So, guys,
check out my story.
I passed out a bunch of copies
at lunch today.
Oh, Forman, this kind of thing
always blows up in your face.
Don't ever stop doing it.
What the hell is this?
Oh, you...
you didn't like my story?
Oh, yeah, I loved it.
Especially this part.
Wanda, I have performed
every task thou hath asketh of me.
Please, can we finally
consummate our love?
I beseech you.
Well, I said I would.
So I won't.
But... I beseeched you.
Okay, let's consummate.
- Really?
- No.
Please.
I beseech you.
- Okay.
- Really?
No.
Now rub my enormous feet.
Um, guys, I don't understand.
What does "consummate" mean?
It means to have sex.
Really?
Now I have
two words for that.
Eric, you just
wrote this to hurt me.
What? I did not!
And, hey, so did you.
Look, when I wrote my story,
I just sat down, and that's what came out.
I didn't, like,
plan it or anything.
And besides...
No, you know what?
I don't have to explain
myself to you.
Okay, I'd like someone
to explain it to me.
Uh, well,
that's easy, Fez.
See, Donna,
as an artist...
wrote her story to get
some perspective on her life.
Forman,
as a vindictive ass...
wrote his story
to be a vindictive ass.
Oh, Eric, I think you just
consummated yourself.
See what I did there?
Looks easy, but it's not.
Well, steaks
are a-cookin'.
Ah, what should we have
to go with dinner?
Oh, I know.
How about a salad?
Say, Joanne, why don't you
make the salad?
- No, thanks.
- Oh.
Aww.
Make the salad.
Unless you don't like
to do lady jobs.
Red, put this
in your mouth.
Okay, you know what?
I'll make the salad. Heh!
- Sit down, Bob.
- Sit down, Bob.
- I'd love to make a salad.
- Great.
As soon as Red admits he's not
asking me to make a salad...
he's trying to put me
in my place.
You are woman.
I hear you roar.
I can't believe you're so threatened by
something as trivial as me grilling chicken.
It's not trivial.
Men grill.
It's been that way
since the first caveman...
bonked a woolly mammoth
on the head...
and threw it
on the barbecue.
And his cave wife
made the salad.
- I smell something burning.
- Oh, darn!
Well, if you didn't want it well done,
you should've said something.
What the hell!
Where's my pinball machine?
Oh, where, indeed?
I remember.
I convinced the owner that pinball was out,
and Space Invaders was in.
Fez, why would you stab me
in the back like that?
Well, rest assured, Kelso, your frogs and
chickens comment had nothing to do with it.
Well, why then?
Hey, Eric, we're sorry we called you
a cat-killer bastard porn freak.
Oh, so, you read
my story, huh?
No, we read part two
of Donna's story.
The ending
is so beautiful.
Part... Huh?
Beauti... What?
"And as Wanda walked away,
she knew in her heart...
she would never
stop loving Derek."
Wow,
that's good writing.
It's emotional,
and it screws you.
Hey.
Hey, so, uh, funny thing.
Um, your story
had a second part, huh?
Yeah, the paper broke it in half,
'cause it was too long.
Oh.
Well, uh, you know,
maybe my story has a second part too.
Eric, your story ended with,
"And he never saw that crazy bitch again."
Well, you know, that
was just a prequel...
to a story entitled, uh...
"He Did See That Crazy Bitch Again,
and She Was a Delight."
Okay, I was...
I was pretty mad when I wrote that.
Eric, I didn't mean
to hurt your feelings...
but I guess I was mad
when I wrote mine too.
At least when I started.
But once I got all that stuff off my chest,
I mean, I felt better about us...
more like the second half
of my story.
So, uh... So what happens
to Derek and Wanda?
Well, in the story, they went off
on their own adventures.
Yeah. Yeah, I mean,
that's probably good for them.
Yeah, it's probably time
they moved on.
Sure.
Derek's gonna be fine.
He's a smart guy.
The wenches love him.
Yeah, well, Wanda's
gonna do great too.
Oh, yeah, sure.
She'll get all the wenches she wants.
Oh, my God, Donna,
there's your story.
"Wanda and the Dirty Wenches."
- Shut up.
- I know. I know.
That's a movie.
Uh! Oh, Fez, I can't hold my
feelings inside any longer.
Yes, we must finally tell you
how much we desire you.
And it's not just us, Fez.
Oh, I knew it all along.
Now let's consummate me.
Ahh, oh, boy.
This is the best story ever.
- Oh, Derek.
- Oh, Wanda.
- Yes, Derek?
You're not just
my next-door neighbor.
You're also
the love of my life.
Derek, I, too, have strong
feelings of love for you...
but I have to give back
this promise ball and chain.
I must leave
Point Upon the Place...
and explore the world
with my trusty cat named Sir Bonkers.
No.
I'll never let you go.
- You can't make me stay.
- Oh, no?
What if I told you that I've run over
the cat named Sir Bonkers...
and the cat named
Sir Bonkers is no more?
Now submit
and be my wife!
Derek, once you were
a kind, peaceful man...
but love
has made you wicked.
Oh, I am wicked.
And until you agree
to be my wife...
I will scour the earth
in search of cats named "Sir Bonkers"...
and I will kill
them all!
Or at very least,
spray them with water...
which everyone knows
they hate.
I can't believe Donna would
publish this in the school paper.
I know. This could be in Reader's Digest.
It's that good.
Oh, this is the worst short story by
an ex-girlfriend in a school newspaper ever.
Well, if it isn't Playboy reading,
panty-loving, cat-killing Derek.
I know.
How could Donna write this?
Why are you upset? It's this Derek
guy who really gets the shaft.
Fez, I am Derek.
Everything always
has to be about you.
Fez, man, think about it.
Eric killed Donna's cat.
Derek killed Wanda's cat.
Donna found panties
in Eric's Vista Cruiser.
Wanda found a chastity belt
in Derek's Vista Carriage.
Hey, you guys, you know what goes
really good with a bad short story?
Pinball!
- No. I hate pinball.
- Hate it or love it?
- Hate it.
- Or love it?
Come on, guys. I'm gonna buy a
50-dollar stake in this machine...
so let's play
so I can make some money.
Where'd you get $50?
- From Jackie.
- Hey.
Oh, hey, Jackie.
Can I borrow $50?
- For what?
- To buy a dress for you.
Okay.
Wait a minute.
Eric, Derek.
Panties, chastity belt.
Dead cat, dead cat.
Oh-ho-ho!
I still got nothing.
Come on, Red.
Bob really wants us to meet
his new lady friend.
Now, think about it,
Kitty.
She likes Bob.
I have a hard time believing
this woman even exists.
We're gonna get over there,
Bob's gonna be sittin' in a rocker...
with a lady's wig on.
"You look lovely
tonight, Bob."
"So do you, Bob."
You've been working on that
all day, haven't you?
Yeah.
Red, Kitty, I'd like you to meet
a very special lady... Joanne.
Well, Joanne,
it is so nice to meet you.
- Right, Red?
- We can't stay long.
Ah, Red. Bob warned me
you can be a pain in the ass.
Well, I'll tell you what.
We'll just have dinner...
and if it turns out you don't like me,
we'll never invite you over again.
Really?
I like you already.
Well, let's get this barbecue started.
Bob, grab that meat.
Oh, I got it, Red.
Why don't you fellas make a salad?
Salad.
Oh, you're serious.
No, see, Bob and I
do the grilling.
Not this time.
Kitty, you wanna give me a hand?
- Well, I'd love to.
- Oh, I don't think...
But, Kitty, you might...
set your lovely hair
on fire.
Well, it can't be that hard.
You do it.
Bob, what the hell's
goin' on here?
Look, Red,
I really like this woman...
so please, for today,
just shut it.
Shut it?
Good God, Bob!
Is she teaching you
to stand up for yourself?
- Yes.
- Well, cut it out!
I want to have a nice time.
Come on.
I'll give you first dibs
on the aprons.
You want the fake tuxedo
or the fake hairy chest?
Oh, damn it.
Give me the tuxedo!
Whoo-hoo! Hairy chest is Joanne's favorite.
It's probably
'cause she's got one.
Ah! Well, if it isn't
the wielder of the poison pen.
- Didn't you like my story?
- No. No, I didn't.
That's why I said
"poison pen"...
not... "marshmallow pen."
What?
- This story is about us.
- No, it's not.
You took stuff from our life
and put 'em in your story.
Like the time you found
those Playboys under my bed.
Begone, Sir Bonkers.
Derek, look what I found
under your bed.
Lewd renderings of
naked serving wenches.
Did you commission these?
So what if I did?
I have needs, woman.
Now, ready thyself.
On this night... we fornicate.
Okay, well, maybe there
are some similarities.
But that's what writers do.
I mean, we take stuff from our lives.
Yeah, but you made me mean all the time,
and that's mean.
Okay, maybe I exaggerated
some stuff...
'cause, you know, I'm writing
this for stupid high school girls.
Oh, my God!
Great story!
Michael, Steven just told me
that instead of buying me a dress...
you spent my $50
on this stupid machine.
Jackie, I did not.
Oh, yeah, I did.
Jackie, listen.
There's an old saying:
You buy a girl a dress,
and she looks pretty for one night.
But you buy her boyfriend a pinball machine,
and she looks pretty for life.
Okay, there's another
old saying, Michael:
You're dumb as dirt.
That's true.
That was in the yearbook.
Okay, okay. All right.
Listen, listen.
So, I bought a half stake
in this machine, all right?
So that means for every quarter
I put into it, I get half back.
That's a 50% profit!
Uh, actually, Kelso,
I think that's a 50% loss.
Fez, I know it's hard
for a foreigner...
to understand our complicated
capitalist system.
But we're dealing with quarters here,
not frogs or chickens.
Well, I'm not going to dignify
that with a response...
because I can't
think of one.
But when I do,
a good day to you.
- All right, Fez. Y...
- I said, kiss my ass.
So, you still mad?
No. No reason to be mad.
Your story is just a pathetic attempt to
rewrite history and make yourself look good.
I'm pretty sure everyone's gonna know
who the dill-hole is here.
Eric, it's just a story.
No one's gonna think
anybody's a dill-hole.
- Cat killer!
- Bastard!
Porn freak!
Okay, they could be
talking about anybody.
Hey, we're all
porn-freak bastards...
but he's the only one
who killed a cat.
Okay, okay. This school obviously needs
to hear the Eric Forman version of things...
A.K.A. The truth.
So I'm gonna write my own story.
Yeah. Yeah, that's right.
I'm throwing down
the gauntlet, baby.
Really? Okay, smarty,
what's a gauntlet?
A gauntlet?
What's a gauntlet?
What's a gauntlet?
I don't know,
but it's down, lady.
Boy, this chicken's delish. What a chef.
You really know your way
around a grill, Joanne.
Mine's dry.
No, it isn't.
It's tender and delicious.
Maybe if I chewed it
with some water.
Well, there's the hose.
- I don't like her anymore.
- Well, I do.
Kitty, I'm chopping vegetables...
Bob's telling me to shut it...
you're over there grilling
with Susan B. Damn Anthony.
Well, fine, Red.
If it bothers you...
we can invite them over,
and you can do the grilling.
But for now, I'd really appreciate it
if you'd just shut it.
If one more person
tells me to shut it...
What? You might
actually shut it?
Please, Wanda, you don't
have to boil me alive.
Killing your cat was
just a horrible accident.
I know, but I'm a witch.
Dear God, why is a nice,
sensitive guy like me...
dating a lying,
manipulative witch like you?
Well, maybe it's because
even witches have itches.
All is forgiven!
God, why do all my
stories end like that?
Don't stop. I like
where you were going.
All right, guys. It is time
to make a withdrawal...
from the First National
Bank of Pinball.
Oh, man.
No one's playing.
Well, I would've played, but my frogs
and chickens wouldn't fit into the slot.
All right. I know
what the problem is here.
This thing has been here for so long
that people have forgotten about it.
I just need to advertise. So, Jackie, put on
a bikini and stand in front of the machine.
Michael, I am not wearing a bikini in here.
It would cause a riot.
Okay, what if I just
put up flyers...
with a picture
of you in a bikini?
Yeah, okay. I mean,
it'll still draw a crowd...
but at least
they'll remain orderly.
Okay, so I just need some Magic Markers
and a picture of you in a bikini.
Oh. I have one.
Keep it.
I have plenty.
So, guys,
check out my story.
I passed out a bunch of copies
at lunch today.
Oh, Forman, this kind of thing
always blows up in your face.
Don't ever stop doing it.
What the hell is this?
Oh, you...
you didn't like my story?
Oh, yeah, I loved it.
Especially this part.
Wanda, I have performed
every task thou hath asketh of me.
Please, can we finally
consummate our love?
I beseech you.
Well, I said I would.
So I won't.
But... I beseeched you.
Okay, let's consummate.
- Really?
- No.
Please.
I beseech you.
- Okay.
- Really?
No.
Now rub my enormous feet.
Um, guys, I don't understand.
What does "consummate" mean?
It means to have sex.
Really?
Now I have
two words for that.
Eric, you just
wrote this to hurt me.
What? I did not!
And, hey, so did you.
Look, when I wrote my story,
I just sat down, and that's what came out.
I didn't, like,
plan it or anything.
And besides...
No, you know what?
I don't have to explain
myself to you.
Okay, I'd like someone
to explain it to me.
Uh, well,
that's easy, Fez.
See, Donna,
as an artist...
wrote her story to get
some perspective on her life.
Forman,
as a vindictive ass...
wrote his story
to be a vindictive ass.
Oh, Eric, I think you just
consummated yourself.
See what I did there?
Looks easy, but it's not.
Well, steaks
are a-cookin'.
Ah, what should we have
to go with dinner?
Oh, I know.
How about a salad?
Say, Joanne, why don't you
make the salad?
- No, thanks.
- Oh.
Aww.
Make the salad.
Unless you don't like
to do lady jobs.
Red, put this
in your mouth.
Okay, you know what?
I'll make the salad. Heh!
- Sit down, Bob.
- Sit down, Bob.
- I'd love to make a salad.
- Great.
As soon as Red admits he's not
asking me to make a salad...
he's trying to put me
in my place.
You are woman.
I hear you roar.
I can't believe you're so threatened by
something as trivial as me grilling chicken.
It's not trivial.
Men grill.
It's been that way
since the first caveman...
bonked a woolly mammoth
on the head...
and threw it
on the barbecue.
And his cave wife
made the salad.
- I smell something burning.
- Oh, darn!
Well, if you didn't want it well done,
you should've said something.
What the hell!
Where's my pinball machine?
Oh, where, indeed?
I remember.
I convinced the owner that pinball was out,
and Space Invaders was in.
Fez, why would you stab me
in the back like that?
Well, rest assured, Kelso, your frogs and
chickens comment had nothing to do with it.
Well, why then?
Hey, Eric, we're sorry we called you
a cat-killer bastard porn freak.
Oh, so, you read
my story, huh?
No, we read part two
of Donna's story.
The ending
is so beautiful.
Part... Huh?
Beauti... What?
"And as Wanda walked away,
she knew in her heart...
she would never
stop loving Derek."
Wow,
that's good writing.
It's emotional,
and it screws you.
Hey.
Hey, so, uh, funny thing.
Um, your story
had a second part, huh?
Yeah, the paper broke it in half,
'cause it was too long.
Oh.
Well, uh, you know,
maybe my story has a second part too.
Eric, your story ended with,
"And he never saw that crazy bitch again."
Well, you know, that
was just a prequel...
to a story entitled, uh...
"He Did See That Crazy Bitch Again,
and She Was a Delight."
Okay, I was...
I was pretty mad when I wrote that.
Eric, I didn't mean
to hurt your feelings...
but I guess I was mad
when I wrote mine too.
At least when I started.
But once I got all that stuff off my chest,
I mean, I felt better about us...
more like the second half
of my story.
So, uh... So what happens
to Derek and Wanda?
Well, in the story, they went off
on their own adventures.
Yeah. Yeah, I mean,
that's probably good for them.
Yeah, it's probably time
they moved on.
Sure.
Derek's gonna be fine.
He's a smart guy.
The wenches love him.
Yeah, well, Wanda's
gonna do great too.
Oh, yeah, sure.
She'll get all the wenches she wants.
Oh, my God, Donna,
there's your story.
"Wanda and the Dirty Wenches."
- Shut up.
- I know. I know.
That's a movie.
Uh! Oh, Fez, I can't hold my
feelings inside any longer.
Yes, we must finally tell you
how much we desire you.
And it's not just us, Fez.
Oh, I knew it all along.
Now let's consummate me.
Ahh, oh, boy.
This is the best story ever.