Author's Note: This one is for Amanda because she had a sucky day. I love you, friend. Hang in there. High school sucks, but if it didn't, then it just wouldn't be high school.
Disclaimer: RENT belongs to Jonathan Larson, not to me.
Summary: Mark and Roger friendship (sort of hehe) fic, kind of a crack, written to cheer up a friend.
"Dude, what are you watching?" Roger asked, sitting down on the dilapidated couch.
"I'm watching this new show called The Office. It's about these people that work in an office."
"No shit, Sherlock."
"I'm just explaining it to you, Mr. Grouchy Plaid Pajama Pants."
"Mr. Grouchy Plaid Pajama Pants?" Roger raised an eyebrow, "That has got to be the longest nickname in the history of nicknames. So, what's going on?"
"Well, I'm not exactly sure. All I know is that this one guy, Dwight, just went off abut bacon, and Pam and Jim belong together!"
"Ookay, someone needs his Prozac today."
"I don't need Prozac!" Mark objected, "How many times do I need to tell you and Angel that I don't need Prozac and I don't need heavy drugs. All I need is group hugs!"
"Yeah well no one wants to hug you."
"I'm angsty," Roger corrected, "So, what do you want for dinner?"
"Um…we can always go out."
"We're bohemians. We're broke."
"True," Mark sighed, "whose idea was this anyways?"
"IDK…MY BFF JILL?"
"What the hell was that?"
"Haven't you seen that commercial?"
"No, and after your little episode, I don't think I want to. So, dinner."
"The Life is cheap."
"You can't ever pay. Remember the tea incident?"
"Oh…yeah. You can pay for both of us!"
"With what? Your Monopoly money? I don't think so."
"We can cook?" Mark suggested, causing Roger to burst into uncontrollable laughter, "What?"
"Good one, Marky."
"No, I'm serious. Mom got me that hot-plate thing. We can try to make something. And there's the stove."
"You seriously want to try and cook?"
"Mmhmm," Mark nodded, "So, want to help?"
"Pwease? What are you, three?"
"Pwease, Mr. Grouchy Plaid…"
"Okay!" Roger held up a hand, "I will TRY and help you cook something."
Mark went to turn off the TV but paused.
"What?" Roger asked, "Turn it off and help me cook."
"Because Steve Carell is talking."
"So I have a bit of a man-crush on him."
"On Steve Carell? I'm getting a new roommate."
"Because I have a man-crush?"
"No, because you have a man-crush on Steve Carell. Turn it off. You were the one that wanted to cook."
"Fine," Mark grumbled, turning off the TV. He followed Roger to the kitchen and began to clear off the table. Roger opened up the fridge and began to poke around looking for something to eat.
"We have milk, beer, and…okay, who the hell put the Lucky Charms in the refrigerator?"
"Do I want to know why?"
"I like them cold."
"Then put milk on them."
"Yeah, 'oh.' For supposedly being the 'smart one' you aren't too bright, are you?"
"I am Magically Delicious."
"Duuuude," Roger shook his head, clearly disappointed.
"What? So, anything else in there?"
"Um…milk, beer, Lucky Charms, peanut butter, chocolate syrup, and…okay what the hell are Care Bear Waffles and why are they in here?"
"They're waffles with rainbow sprinkles in them. Look, the box has the Car Bears on it. This one is you," Mark pointed to a blue bear with a raincloud on its stomach, "see? It's grumpy!"
"Oh my God."
"You are the weirdest thing I have ever met."
"Uh-huh," Roger eyeballed Mark suspiciously, "So what do you want to do? We can't mix all this stuff together and come up with anything remotely edible…"
"Because, moron, we have milk, beer, Lucky Charms, peanut butter, chocolate syrup, and Care Bear Waffles! What can we do with this stuff?"
"We can try."
"Fine. Go crazy," Roger surrendered the kitchen to Mark.
He began to grab the stuff out of the refrigerator and arranging it on the table. Next, he grabbed a huge, plastic bowl.
"You're seriously doing this?" Roger asked.
Roger watched in disgust as Mark poured everything into the huge bowl and began to shake it side to side to mix it all together.
"That smells vile!"
"It smells yummylicious!"
Mark dug his hand into the gooey mess and came up with a glob which he proceeded to plop into his mouth, "YUM!"
"You're just jealous because you don't have any."
"I don't want any."
"Sure you do."
"What I WANT is a new roommate."
"You love me."
"You think I'm Magically Delicious!"
"Don't. Ever. Say. That. Again."
"I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious! I'm Magically Delicious…OW! WHAT WAS THAT?"
"Pillow. And it didn't hurt."
"Yes it did! How rude!"
"How else would I have gotten you to shut up?"
"By asking nicely."
"Would that have worked?"
"I figured. So you're really eating that?"
"Say 'yummylicious' and you die."
"Okay," Mark took another bite of his goop, "Yummylicious!"
"That's it!" Roger began to chase Mark around the loft, "YOU'RE DEAD MARK COHEN!"
"I'M MAGICALLY DELICIOUS!"
"YOU'LL BE MAGICALLY DEAD IN A SECOND!"
The door of the Loft opened and Collins and Angel entered.
"Look, Sugar, dinner and a show," Angel grinned.
"Mark, what did you do?" Collins asked, leading Angel towards the couch.
"I'M MAGICALLY DELICIOUS!"
"Oh brother," Collins rolled his eyes.
"Roger, I thought I told you to slip that Prozac into his Lucky Charms."
"I DON'T NEED PROZAC!" Mark shouted as Roger continued to chase him.
"Sure you don't," Angel rolled her eyes, "Because normal people randomly run around their apartments singing, 'I'M MAGICALLY DELICIOUS' at the top of their lungs."
"What the hell are you holding?" Collins asked as the duo ran past the couch.
"Marky here attempted to cook," Roger explained, "It's a mix of milk, beer, chocolate sauce, Lucky Charms, and Care Bear Waffles."
"Oooh, I love Care Bear Waffles," Angel giggled, "They have sprinkles, you know!"
"WE KNOW!" Roger rolled his eyes, still on hot pursuit of his spastic roommate.
"Well you don't need to get snippy!" Angel said, insulted.
"Sorry, Ang. If you lived with this THING," he pointed towards Mark, "you'd be snippy too!"
"THING?" Mark shouted.
"Yeah. How else would you describe yourself?" Roger asked, still chasing him.
"As being…" (insert dramatic pause here) "…MAGICALLY DELICIOUS!"
"OH YOU ARE SO EFFING DEAD!"
"Should we help him?" Angel asked, nodding towards Mark.
"No way," Collins chuckled, "This is WAY more entertaining."
"You can't kill me," Mark objected.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't."
"I'll give you TWO! One, because, if you kill me, I will never be able to meet my soul mate."
"Soul mate?" Roger raised an eyebrow, "Say Steve Carell, and you're dead in a second!"
"Not Steve, though he is dorkily handsome…but that's not the point! The point is, I, Mark Cohen, had a vision."
"I had a vision that I am supposed to fall in love with this girl."
"Does she even exist?"
"Of course she does! Her name is Amanda and she lives in New Orleans and likes The Office and Psyche and Rob Tomas, and guess what…HER FAVORITE ALL-TIME SHOW WAS FRIENDS!"
"And Chandler is your other man-crush, right?" Roger asked sarcastically.
"How did you know?????"
"You're an idiot. What's the second reason?"
"Because, if you kill me, then you won't have a roommate who is…MAGICALLY DELICIOUS!"
"THAT'S IT, MARK COHEN, YOU ARE A DEADMAN."
"I'm insulted," Collins pouted.
"Don't worry, Sugar, I think you're magically delicious."
"Come on, let's go."
"To my place. I am having a sudden craving for Lucky Charms," she smirked playfully at Collins.
"Oooh," he laughed, following her, "Goodbye boys. Roger, after you kill him, make sure you clean up the mess because I aint helping."
"Sure thing, Collins," Roger waved as they left.
"What?" Roger asked, annoyed.
"I'm MAGICALLY DELICIOUS!"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: AMANDA, I LOVE YOU! NEW ORLEANS DESERVED TO WIN, COLTS LOST, AND I AM SO SORRY THEY ARE SAYING MEAN THINGS AND BEING RUDE ABOUT IT! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY STORY.