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Bacon paces back and forth across the metallic backstage floor of the studio, muttering angrily under his breath while clutching a clipboard.
Bacon: (stressed) I cannot believe they ran out of tomato sauce during the middle of scene four! This production is falling apart at the seams!
Guest: Good luck finding any, Bacon! The raccoon infestation got into the condiment crate yesterday! Bacon stops in his tracks and groans loudly, slamming his head gently against a nearby concrete pillar.
Bacon: (exasperated) Raccoons? Why are there raccoons in a Roblox soundstage? Who even signed off on this venue lease?
Bacon straightens his collar, adjusts his cap, and resumes his frantic march down the dimly lit corridor toward the prop warehouse.
Bacon: If I don't secure at least three bottles of generic red sauce by the next commercial break, the director is going to dock my pay again.
The fluorescent lights overhead flicker erratically, casting long, eerie shadows across rows of discarded props and cardboard boxes. Bacon checks his wristwatch with a deep sigh of exhaustion, noticing how the hands seem to be moving way too fast.
Bacon: Twenty minutes until live-action shooting resumes. If Elliot hasn't memorized his lines yet, I'm going to lose my mind. Bacon turns the corner past the oversized foam sword rack, heading straight for the auxiliary back supply closet where the spare bulk supplies are kept.
Bacon: Wait, why is the door to the supply closet slightly ajar? Didn't I lock it after the morning equipment check?
Bacon approaches the heavy steel door cautiously, noticing a strange, faint squeaking sound echoing from the darkness within.
Bacon: Is someone in there? If it's another intern trying to take a nap on the bubble wrap, they are getting fired on the spot.
Bacon: Hello? Is anyone in this closet? We have a strict safety code violation policy, you know.
A sudden rustling sound comes from the center of the room, accompanied by a muffled crunching noise and strange high-pitched giggling. Bacon squints through the narrow opening, trying to make sense of the giant cardboard delivery box sitting right in the middle of the floor.
Bacon: (puzzled) A refrigerator delivery box? Why is there a massive kitchen appliance box inside the cleaning supply closet?
The top flaps of the cardboard box wobble violently before parting slightly, revealing a pair of wide, unblinking eyes staring right back. Bacon gasps softly and steps back half a pace, clutching his clipboard tightly to his chest like a defensive shield.
Bacon: Who’s there? Show yourself before I call security or press the emergency panic button!
A pair of familiar arms reaches out from the top of the box and pulls the flaps wide open, revealing Noob and Elliot. Bacon stares into the interior of the box with an expression of utter disbelief, his jaw dropping slack.
Bacon: (speechless) What in the world... what are you two even doing in a shipping container?
Noob sits inside the cramped space, wearing a smug, triumphant grin that stretches completely across his face.
Noob: We are on a romantic date, Bacon! Can't you see the ambiance we curated with our bare hands?
Elliot sits right beside Noob inside the cramped box, his entire face flushed a burning shade of crimson.
Elliot: (mortified) Please, Noob, just shut the flaps. I am begging you with every fiber of my being, please close the box.
Noob ignores Elliot's desperate plea entirely and grabs a massive, unwrapped block of yellow cheddar cheese from a paper plate on his lap.
Noob: (affectionate) Shh, my sweet little cheddar puff, don't listen to the haters. Open wide for your true love!
Elliot: (panicked) Mmph! Noob, that's way too big! I'm going to choke on dairy solids, stop it!
Elliot reluctantly opens his mouth and takes a bite of the cheese block, his cheeks puffing out like a cartoon hamster. Noob beams with absolute joy, watching Elliot chew with the intensity of a proud parent feeding their toddler.
Noob: See? Look how happy he is! He loves my cooking skills and my delicate romantic gestures!
Elliot: (embarrassed) I am not happy, Noob! I am experiencing a level of psychological trauma that words cannot adequately capture! Noob leans in close to Elliot's ear, his expression turning deeply intense as he begins whispering complete nonsense gibberish.
Noob: Blorble florp zorp miley wiley bloop boop shlibby dibby.
Elliot shivers involuntarily at the weird sounds, his face turning an even deeper, more luminous shade of red.
Elliot: (flustered) Why are you talking to my ear like that? What does 'blorble florp' even mean in this context?
Noob: Skibbidy bap zop ding dong chortle wiggle snort.
Bacon stands frozen in the doorway, watching the bizarre scene unfold with a deadpan, hollow stare into the abyss.
Bacon: I came in here looking for tomato sauce, and instead I have found the absolute peak of human absurdity.
Elliot: (mortified) Bacon, please, do not look at us. Pretend you walked into an empty closet. Pretend this is all a hallucination.
Bacon: An empty closet? Elliot, you are sitting in a refrigerator box eating a raw brick of cheddar fed to you by a professional idiot.
Noob: Don't ruin our special night, Bacon! Finding a clean delivery box with enough legroom for two avatars is very difficult!
Bacon: (exhausted) A romantic date. In a supply closet. Surrounded by mop buckets and industrial-strength floor cleaner.
Elliot: (pleading) He kidnapped me from the makeup trailer, Bacon! He told me we were going to review script notes, but it was a trap!
Noob: It wasn't a kidnapping! It was a surprise relocation for the sake of true, passionate romance!
Bacon: I don't get paid enough for this. In fact, I pay out of pocket for my own cap, and it's not worth the salary.
Noob: See, Elliot? Even Bacon thinks our love story has potential. He's practically giving us his blessing.
Elliot: (despairing) That is the exact opposite of what he just said! He is actively dying inside just by looking at us!
Bacon: I'm going to close this door now. What happens in the supply closet stays in the supply closet.
Noob: Wise choice, my friend! Enjoy your tomato sauce hunt!
Bacon slowly pulls the heavy steel door shut, blocking out the sight of Noob feeding Elliot more dairy products. The heavy click of the door latch echoes softly down the quiet, dimly lit hallway as Bacon stands alone in the silence. Bacon slowly raises both hands and begins massaging his temples in a desperate circular motion to ease the stress.
Bacon: (muttering) Elliot and Noob. Shipping them together. Who the hell writes this script? What kind of timeline are we living in?
Back in the supply closet, the atmosphere remains cozy, warm, and utterly bizarre as Noob continues whispering gibberish.
Noob: (whispering) Zibble zabble zorp zop, you're the cheese to my crop.
Elliot smiles softly despite himself, leaning his head against Noob's shoulder as they sit together in the dark box.
Elliot: You know... that one didn't even make any sense, Noob. What is a crop in this metaphor?
Noob: It doesn't need to make sense, Elliot! It just needs to rhyme and feel romantic!
Elliot: Yeah. I suppose nothing you do ever really needs to make sense.
Noob: (triumphant) Exactly! Long live our supply closet romance!