Work Text:
STRONG BAD: {singing} Ah-planet X! Marks! The email! Planet X! Marks! The email!
subject: shoes
dear strong bad,
yknow, we only ever see you with your shoes on. can we get some feet pics? it's for science.
crapfully yours,
sandbirde
{Strong bad pauses briefly after saying “yknow”, then again after “can we get some”. He adds an “ugh” after “feet pics”, and replaces “crapfully yours” with “overplayed joke”. He fails to say Sandbirde properly three times, eventually settling on pronouncing it like “sandy birdie”}
STRONG BAD: {typing} Well, Sandy Bandy, you did it. You sent the worst email I’ve ever read. Seriously, I think this he needs to be framed or something. {aside} Hey! The Cheat! Do we have any of those framed paintings we stole from Homestar still? Huh, I guess he must be busy. {typing} Anyway... {clears screen}
STRONG BAD: {typing} Before I answer YOUR question, let me ask two question first. Number one: whyyyyyyy? Number two: how could the status of my feet have any scientific value? Are you seriously expecting me to... wait...
{Cut to Strong Sad in his room, painting small plastic models at a desk. He has a camera set up pointed at his workspace, connected to a sleek-looking Lappy. Strong Bad peeks around the door.}
STRONG BAD: Yo, nerd-or-nuthin’! Have people ever asked you for pictures of your feet?
STRONG SAD: Not now, I’m live! {To the camera on his desk} And then I’ll take some Rot Green for the highlighting...
{Strong Bad moves out from behind the door and into the room proper.}
STRONG BAD: I’m serious! Some sand-covered bird on the internet asked me to show my feet! Is that... a thing?
STRONG SAD: How should I know?
STRONG BAD: Well, your feet are probably a target for elephant poachers. Maybe for, like... a footstool, or... a regular stool... heh, foot stool...
STRONG SAD: Now that you mention it, I HAVE had some people ask about them on my stream chat. I thought it was just-
STRONG BAD: Woah, woah, stream chat? What is that, some nerd club for discussing tiny rivers?
STRONG SAD: You’re live to a dozen people right now. They’re watching me paint my miniatures.
STRONG BAD: Cool, cool, so they can see you wasting your life in real time. Nice to know that this is how you’re suckin’ up all my megabits and kiloblorts. No wonder it took the Compy a full hour to start up!
STRONG SAD: Uh, I don’t think that’s-
{Strong Bad moves up to the desk, knocking some of the figures off. He taps the camera and rubs his chin in thought.}
STRONG BAD: Say, are they paying you for this? Like, at all?
{Cut to a close-up of Strong Sad}
STRONG SAD: I made four dollars since today’s stream started. If fans like your content, they can donate and-
{Cut back to the whole room. Strong Bad is gone, and the door has slammed shut. There’s an elongated pause.}
STRONG SAD: {sighs, looking at the miniature in his hand} This cost me fifty dollars.
{Cut to Strong Bad at his computer again. The Cheat is there too, operating a camera and boom mic - both aimed at Strong Bad. They’re wired into a selection of electronic devices, including a router and a toaster.}
STRONG BAD: Man, if this works, we’ll be rich! Instead of having to do these emails once ever so often, we can make them go out live! Think of the donations! The groupies! The... {shudders, then loses some of his enthusiasm} ...brand deal sponsorships with with men’s grooming products.
THE CHEAT: {Enthusiastic The Cheat noises}
STRONG BAD: {hushed} O-oh, wait, I wasn’t ready, uh... {to the camera, with uncertainty in his voice} Welcome... viewers... uh... this is Strong Bad, the cool guy with the cool guy...esness...
THE CHEAT: {Expectant The Cheat noises}
STRONG BAD: {hushed} What am I supposed to do!? Nobody has given me any money yet! {to the camera} Listen here, you! All of you! Give me a dollar each or I’ll, uh... hm... punch you?
{There’s an extended pause where Strong Bad slowly tilts his head downward, like he’s thinking}
STRONG BAD: Please?
{The Compy pings, and Strong Bad sits boot upright}
STRONG BAD: Aha, my first donation! It’s-
{He clears the screen, and another email appears.}
subject: feet
dear strong bad,
the people wanna know!!
crapfully yours,
sandbirde
STRONG BAD: {exasperated} Oh, come on, man! What does this Sanding Bird want with my feet? {typing} Look, Birdam Sandler, I really don’t get it. The boxing gloves thing was annoying, but this is... just WEIRD. Are my shoes not good enough? Do you find them offensive to the eyes? What’s your DEAL?
STRONG BAD: What exactly do you want the pictures for, anyway? Some kind of foot picture shrine? Is this your kind of autograph collection? Are you knitting me some socks? Actually, wait, that’d be... that’d be pretty cool. {stops typing} Y’know, like... with flames on the side.
{Cut to a heavily-worn sock with badly-stitched flames on one side.}
STRONG BAD: Or some skulls.
{Some skulls appear in the flames.}
STRONG BAD: And they’d be able to stick to surfaces, so that I could walk up walls! Oh man, that’d be awesome!I should get this Sandbird guy to-
{There’s a short pause}
STRONG BAD: Hang on, what if this isn’t a guy? Oh. Ohhhhh. I get it. {In a poor attempt at a sultry voice, while typing} Oh-ho-ho, Sandesburg, you almost fooled me! You want those pictures because you’re not just stickies with my ripped, perfect... roundness. You’re interested in seeing the part of El Strongbadio that most women don’t get to see.
{He ducks down for a moment, then comes back up with one shoe in his hand. His bare foot is completely out of frame.}
STRONG BAD: {In an awkwardly sultry voice} Well, well, if you insist...
THE CHEAT: {Surprised The Cheat nosies}
{Strong Bad throws his shoe off the table in panic, and it audibly smashes something on the other side of the room}
STRONG BAD: {Shocked} WHAT!? The Cheat!?I mean... The Cheat! I was just airing my foot, uh... getting it... you know, used to the air. Indoor air.
THE CHEAT: {Alarmed The Cheat nosies}
STRONG BAD: What do you mean we’re ‘still live’? We’re not... uh oh. How many viewers does the stream have?
THE CHEAT: {Concerned The Cheat nosies}
STRONG BAD: Four-hundred and thirteen!? No! Wait, stop watching! The Cheat, turn it off!
{The Cheat grabs the camera and throws it on the ground, out of frame.}
STRONG BAD: {Breathes a sigh of relief} Well, that was awful. Did we at least make any money?
THE CHEAT: {Factual The Cheat noises}
STRONG BAD: {Pleasantly surprised} Wow, really? Just because they saw my foot? If I wasn’t emotionally scarred by this, it wouldn’t be that bad of a money-making scheme! How much would getting a new camera cost?
THE CHEAT: {Mathematical The Cheat noises}
STRONG BAD: So we made a profit of... four cents. Better than nothing, I guess. {Typing} So you see, Sandra Bird, my feet are totally there and completely none of your business. Whatever creepy science experiment you’re doing, you can leave me out of it! I don’t want any of my feet being used to grow an army of cloned feet-men or something! {stops typing} Although that WOULD be a pretty cool cartoon show pitch. I’ll have to ask The Cheat about that when he gets back.
{The Paper comes down.}
{Long pause. Cut to Strong Sad back at his stream desk, painting.}
STRONG SAD: {angrily, at his camera} No, no, no! The PainterDudeGuy merch store is only for t-shirts and novelty pins! I’m not selling my bath water again