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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?

Well, 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 the school newspaper ever.

♪ Hanging out

♪ Down the street

♪ The same old thing

♪ We did last week

♪ Not a thing to do

♪ But talk to you

♪ We're all all right

♪ We're all all right ♪

Hello, Wisconsin!

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 stake in this machine,

so let's play so I can make some money.

Where'd you get $50?

From Jackie.

Hey, Jackie. Uh, 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!

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 sitting 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 going 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 wanna 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.

Gimme the tuxedo!

Hairy chest is Joanne's favorite.

It's probably 'cause she's got one.

Oh, 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 them in your story.

Like the time you found those Playboys under my bed.

Be gone, 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 exaggerate 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.

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,

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 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.

Well, that's easy, Fez.

See, Donna, as an artist,

wrote her story to get some perspective on her life.

And 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-cooking.

Mmm.

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.

Aw.

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.

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?

Oh...

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?

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, 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 pretty mad when I wrote that.

Eric, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings,

but, I mean, 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, 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.

And 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.

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.

Oh, boy.

This is the best story ever.

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