Joey&Chandler

Infomercial Hour

Chandler sat in the leather recliner, letting the sounds of a food processor infomercial wash over him. "It slices! It dices! It even cuts through concrete!"

Great, Chandler thought. Maybe it can finish off what's left of my ego. And then I can send my testicles through, because it's not like I ever need them for anything.

He watched as an unusually well-endowed blonde woman lifted up a small concrete block. "So I just put it in here?" she said.

"That's right," said a man in a chef's hat, lifting the lid off a food processor. "Just stick it in and push the button."

"'Just stick it in and push the button,'" Chandler mimicked in a Muppet-like voice. "That sounds easy enough. It would take a real idiot to mess that up." He slumped forward, clutching his head in his hands. My God, I am that idiot.

Joey walked in, his hair rumpled and eyes bleary. "Chandler, what are you doing?"

Chandler shrugged, gesturing toward the TV. "Well, I was just—"

"Wow!" said the blonde, holding up a sliver of cement. "It just cut right through the concrete!"

Joey squinted at the TV. "Why would you need a food processor that can cut through concrete?"

"You know, I found this really good recipe for turkey and gravel," Chandler said. "But then it turns out that it was actually turkey and gravy."

"Oh," Joey said. He thought for a moment and grinned. "That would be kind of cool though, you know. Bust through some concrete just for laughs. Like, 'Yeah, I have a manly food processor. You want a piece of me?'" He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered.

No one wants a piece of me, Chandler thought. Aloud, he said, "Yeah, then maybe we could cut through Rachel's brownies."

Joey laughed and thumped Chandler on the chest. "That's a good one, man!"

Chandler forced a grin. "Yeah." He stood up and switched off the TV. "Well, I guess it's time to head off to bed and dream sweet dreams of miracle grout cleaner. No scrubbing! Who would have thought?" He laughed nervously. "Seriously, who would have thought? Well, good night!" He went into his room and shut the door behind him.

Joey knocked and opened the door a crack. "Hey man, you all right? I mean… it's infomercial hour. Did the date… you know?"

Chandler sighed, settling back on his bed. "Joey… am I ugly? Or boring, or romantically inept, or sexually inadequate, or in some other way undeserving of love and affection?"

"No!" Joey sat down on the end of the bed. "Chandler, where's this coming from? Did she say these things to you? Because I'll beat her up for you."

"Right, because that will cement my reputation as a manly man. 'Hi, I hire my friends to beat up girls for me! Not only do I beat up girls, I'm not even strong enough to do it myself!'"

"Look, hey, calm down. I'm just saying, you know?" Joey lay down next to Chandler, propping himself up on an elbow. "So what happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened." Chandler rolled over onto his side.

"All right. I understand. You don't want to talk about it, that's cool." Joey put a hand on Chandler's shoulder. "But if you've got something you need to talk about, I'm right here."

After a few moments, Chandler spoke again. "Joey, can you keep a secret?"

"No." Joey leaned back and thought for a minute. "Well, I don't know. No one's ever asked me to. I think everyone thinks I'm a dumb loudmouth who doesn't know when to shut up."