"Do you think we should put in less musical numbers next week?"

"Maybe. How many have we got so far?"

"None."

"Let's put in less musical numbers next week."

"Sounds good to me."

"And you do not fuck the talent, but writers are fair game?"

They never talk about the whys (you see, they’ll let them pile up instead, an ever increasing stack of all things unsaid until silence becomes the more acceptable mode of communication).

The world went to shit, but Matt can still make somebody laugh, and like that, he forgets about picking a fight.

Huge multifandom icon post.

“Well,” he says, “You look good, anyway. Which, you know, is what I meant to say before forces beyond my control took over my mouth. I meant to say it when you first came in, too, but well, I got distracted.”

"Good. Be funny Friday ... Esther and I are having friends over. I told everyone I know that my boys were going to be on television."

"We're on television every night, Isaac."

"Yeah, but this is special."

"No, it's growing on me. Except that I'm sort of afraid that one day I'll come to work and it will be counting down to my death, not our next air time."

The smell of eggs cooking fills his nostrils and he really needs to talk to the doctor about these side effects. There has to be a better class of drugs with a better class of hallucinations available...