Parks and Recreation

.

No, no, no.

Sorry, Ron, doors are locked.

We've taken your key cards and your phones,

and the automatic timer won't go off

until tomorrow at 8:00 a.m.

You're trapped in there.

- We told security not to disturb you

under any circumstances.

And the phones and internet?

Oh, they've been disconnected.

- And I left a rusty hacksaw on the table,

so the first person who hacks their face off gets release.

- That's not--what?

Is that true?

- Guys, this is insane, okay? Let us out.

Oh, my God, babe. Game of Thrones is on tonight.

It's the series finale.

Khaleesi is marrying Jack Sparrow.

Oh, God, that show has really gone off the rails.

- It makes sense if you've read the books.

Look, our baby monitor is on the table.

If you guys can talk this out

and settle your differences like grown-ups,

turn it on, and I will come to get you from my office.

Otherwise, we will see you at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.

- I am going to break out of here,

then I am going to snap you in half.

Hey.

This is not his fault, Swanson.

Be a man, and get your house in order.

You too, Knope.

Good luck, you guys.

I really hope you can work out your differences.

Terry, look at me.

Is this what you want to do?

Think very carefully, son.

There you go.

That's right, buddy.

Come on.

For once in your life, do something right.

Stop it, Terry.

Both of you. Come on.

both: Damn it, Terry!

*

Okay, think.

There must be a way out of here.

I don't think there is.

They installed these magnetic locks two years ago.

There's no way around them. -

Yes, there is.

I'll simply punch my fist through a window.

- Ron, there's security wire in there.

You'll slice your arm open.

- I would rather bleed out than sit here

and talk about my feelings for ten hours.

There is another way.

We'll just wait a few minutes,

turn on this monitor, and then we'll tell Ben

that we talked it out and made up.

I'll just tell them that I apologized for...

whatever, heroically caring too much,

and you admitted that you're a stubborn butthead,

and everything's fine now.

Why do I have to be stubborn?

Why can't the problem have been that I was reasonable

and you were at fault?

- Because we want them to believe us

and not laugh really hard

at a ridiculous science fiction scenario.

- We are not saying I was the problem.

If we're gonna lie to them, I will not let you lie to them.

Fine!

I'll tell them that for the past three years,

you've been a perfect gentleman and scholar,

and I am an insane weirdo

who, despite being the only reason

we even had a friendship to begin with,

decided to ruin it out of the blue for no good reason.

- That sounds good. Let's go with that.

What are you doing?

I destroyed the monitor!

What if we have an emergency

and have to get out of here?

- I did not consider that possibility!

Everything's different.

I mean, the furniture, the pictures.

Craig changed everything.

Did he?

I tried not to notice anything

when I worked here.

Or talk to anyone.

Or learn anyone's name.

You, of all people, should know that, Lauren.

- Look, we are gonna be here for ten hours.

We could either talk about our issues

and work through our problems,

or we can just sit here doing nothing.

I choose "sit here."

- Come on, Ron, why don't we just--

- Sit here. - Ron.

Sit here.

I bet I can make you talk.

I'll take that bet

at any odds, for any amount of money,

over any length of time

stretching from now into infinity.

- Talk to me. Talk to me. Talk to me. Talk to me.

Talk to me. Talk to me. Talk to me. Talk to me.

Talk to me. Talk. Talk. Talk.

Talk to me!

Drip. Drip. One word, and this is over.

I think wood is stupid, and so does everybody else.

You guys, Ron loves plastic.

Last chance, Ron.

You want to talk? Huh?

Aha!

Jackpot.

You know what this is, Ron?

This is a mix I made for the summer Parks barbecue, 2007.

I asked everyone in the Parks Department

to choose one song.

You chose Buddy by Willie Nelson,

a fact I remember because my mind

is a steel trap of friendship nuggets.

But I am not going to play your choice.

I'm gonna play Jerry's choice.

[Billy Joel's We Didn't Start the Fire playing]

Ooh, that's right.

And I'm gonna sing along.

And I'm gonna maintain eye contact the whole time.

And guess what. I don't know the words.

* Harry Truman was a guy

* America, Red China

* All the countries, other people *

* Everyone is fun

* Joe Mantegna, Ian McKellen

* I have to buy a new toaster *

* This is awesome, you're so stupid *

* Jumping up and down

Whoo!

Oh, I got it on repeat. Come on, Ron.

Do you want to hear it again, or do you want to talk?

No?

Okay, next verse.

* Freddy Krueger bought some pants *

* Oprah has a turtle farm

* Peter Piper pee-pee poopy *

* Daddy ate a squirrel

Stop this!

* Eisenhower, vaccine

- I will speak with you for three minutes.

Great.

So...

what would you like to talk about?

Oh, come on, Ron.

We were friends for ten years.

- We were work proximity associates.

We were friends.

And now we're not.

And once again, it is up to me to save our friendship,

and I will do so using the most powerful tool

known to man:

a well-organized chart.

Three years ago, I accept a job at National Parks.

You and I see each other less, admittedly,

due to my busy schedule

and your utter lack of interest

in maintaining adult friendships.

- Work proximity associate-ships.

- Three months later, April comes to work for me.

We throw her a party.

At her request, the party's theme

is "Zombie Teenage Biker Gang Pizza Jamboree."

I remember.

You made me wear a leather jacket.

- That is the last time you and I see each other

for more than five minutes.

Three months later, you come and visit me

at my office on the third floor for the very first time.

One week later, I return from a trip,

and I find out you have quit the Parks Department

and you have started your own building company

without even bothering to tell me.

"Oh, well," I think to myself.

"You know, it was only a matter of time."

And then, two months after that,

Morningstar--

the final twist of the knife.

Oh, for God's sake.

I hear about Morningstar,

and I calmly saunter down to your office

and attempt to have a rational discussion with you about it.

What the hell, Ron?

You're building your stupid building

on the block next to Pawnee Commons?

The park that I built from scratch out of a pit?

This building is gonna ruin the views, you jerk.

And you're gonna tear all the houses down?

- Yes. - Ann lived there, Ron.