Me, Myself & The Void

Hello, there he is.

Good doggy.

You are a little ham, mister.

We are sleeping in the car.

Three, two, one.

- Get that? - That was awesome.

I totally got it. Don't worry.

I did. Kind of weird for me and...

I'm here with my best friend, Jack, before his first stand-up comedy show,

and he's gonna do so, so...

-Oh, how'd it go? -Not great. I bombed.

-You gotta start somewhere, though. -Okay. Can we actually not film?

Oh, got it. Yep. Got it.

This is Backyard Barbecue Cam on...

Hang on.

Jack, nice to meet you.

-Do you want to get a drink? -Yes, I do.

- Oh, yeah. - Thank you.

Hold on. I'm gonna get it.

No, it's a photo. I'm taking a photo. I'm taking a photo.

I hate you.

-Yeah! -I love you.

-Happy birthday. -Thank you.

What are you doing?

-When the last time you crunched leaves? -These are good.

These are good moves.

One of the funniest people I have ever met.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is Anna Spencer.

Thank you.

- Thank you. - Keep it going for Jack!

He's incredibly funny. He's gonna be everywhere.

HBO, Netflix, you have him. Share the password.

-Thank you. -Please welcome to the stage...

Please welcome to the stage...

Now, please welcome to the stage Jack Dennis.

Hello. Hello. Hello. How are you?

Look, I'm a nice guy.

And I know what you hear when I say that, but don't worry.

I'm not a nice guy. I'm a nice guy.

It's very difficult now to express that I'm a guy who is nice

because those two words, like,

aren't allowed next to each other anymore.

Nice guys ruin it for guys who are genuinely nice.

I think of myself as a generally, you know, not perfect,

but as a generally nice guy.

And I say all of that in a desperate attempt to have you on my side

before I start talking about my very ugly breakup.

It was a tough one. It was a tough one.

Sincerely, it was a tough one because the lease was in her name.

Winning an argument doesn't feel as satisfying

when the reward is not having anywhere to sleep.

Get the fuck out! Go be a professional failure!

No? Okay.

It was, I'll say, it was a, you know, it was a justified breakup on my part.

If I sound like an asshole, it was, you know,

it was fair because I found out

she'd been snooping in my phone for ages, apparently,

even though all she ever found was a Notes app

full of all these jokes you guys are loving.

Yeah, then I, you know, I showed up on my friend's doorstep, like:

"Hi, I live on your couch now."

I would have appreciated a heads-up...

...but he was afraid to send text messages because, well, you know.

-My actual friend Chris, everybody. -Hi, everybody.

Whoo!

Your best friend is the person who says:

"Hey, you can crash on my couch for as long as you need."

Or in my case, you have five days because my lease is up,

and I'm about to move in with my girlfriend.

-What's going on? -You're doing great.

I don't-- I don't understand what's happening. I'm dying.

I'm here to help you. We'll-- We'll get them back to you.

-Yeah. -Thank you.

So this guy tells me not to move in with my girlfriend, at all, right?

Pitches me this dream bachelor pad,

where we can get high and order food every day.

And, yeah, yes, it sounded great, right?

But Julia and I had been dating for a little over a year,

so moving in with her just made more sense.

But this motherfucker had said he was in!

Yeah.

It is a nice pad, I'll say, I have a very nice, uh, sofa.

I will give him that, folks. It is a nice sofa.

That's my actual couch.

Of course it is.

And that's your actual TV.

Beautiful wooden table.

Top-of-the-line fridge.

And get this. Fucking doors.

Uh-huh. What is, um--? What's going on right now?

Um...

Can we bring the house lights up for a second, please?

Um, just for a sec.

Guys?

Hello?

Okay. Um...

-Uh, Chris? -What's up, buddy?

You tell me, man. Where are we?

What? We're in your apartment.

-No, there was a crowd. -Oh, yeah, they loved you, dude.

Where did they go? They're gone. Where did they go?

-Why were you on-stage with me? -I was helping you.

That's not a thing. You're not a stand-up. That's not a thing we do.

I looked like a stand-up. I was telling jokes.

Kind of. You were kind of telling jokes.

You were kind of just ending sentences like they were punchlines,

and then people were laughing uproariously, and...

Yeah?

What is that sound?

What sound?

Dude, what's going on? Are you okay?

-It's your bathroom. What's going on? -Um...

Oh, man.

You don't look so good.

You don't look so good.

What the fuck? Where am I?

Where the fuck am I?

Hello?

Help!

Somebody help!

Oh, thank God.

Oh, thank God.

Coming.

What's up?

-What is up, dude? -Hi.

- Hello. - Welcome.

Oh, man. Look at this place.

Still settling in a little bit, but, yeah, it's good.

-Which way's the bathroom? -Uh, right up there on the right.

I want you to take note of my new soaps.

Oh, fancy!

The bathroom is so clean.

I don't know why everyone assumed Mia was the clean one.

Patriarchy, man.

Wow. Deep. That's deep, man.

So have you and Mia talked at all since the, um...?

Talk to me when you're done peeing, weirdo.

At least now I can get stoned on a workday.

Figured we could, uh, christen the new pad.

Oh, hello.

Yeah, I'm like a shaman. To singledom.

To your singledom.

Those take a while to kick in, so, in the meantime...

-Oh, wait. Your roommate doesn't mind? -He's never home.

Except for right now, apparently.

Hey, Bob. You don't-- You don't-- You don't mind, do you?

No.

Marijuana's legal in the state of California

and thus will not attract law enforcement.

Which is preferable.

-Well, that's extremely chill of you, Bob. -Totally chill.

Thank you very much for the chillness. Have a great day, Bob. I hope...

-Good to see you, Bob. -Yeah.

-What's with the purple light? -Don't know. I think he's a photographer.

Oh!

-We should order pizza. -Yeah.

-All right! -What?

-What? -Dude, you just spaced out for ages,

wandered around muttering to yourself,

and then just stopped and said, "All right."

Are you okay?

Probably not, no.

I think I just walked through a memory, like Christmas Carol style.

Was it something important?

No, not at all.

It was, uh, us sitting on this couch, getting stoned.

My roommate was vaguely threatening. Might've imagined some of that.

Yeah, man, I mean, not ringing a bell.

Chris, if you are Chris.

-I am. -Okay, where are we?

Well, I thought we were in your new apartment.

I can see that it is my apartment, but it also isn't my apartment.

What, it's like a sublease situation? I don't understand, man.

No, uh...

Dude, uh...

I think I'm dead.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I... died.

Whoa.

-What's it feel like? -Fine.

I don't know. I'm not in agony or anything.

It's not like... It's just like-- I don't know.

It doesn't seem that bad.

If eternity's just gonna be me remembering random times

-I got baked with my best friend. -Sounds like it was a fun night at least.

-Yeah. But you can't remember it? -To be fair, I don't really remember

anything from before I was on-stage with you.

Like, I can't remember my parents' faces, for example.

Okay, so that's weird, but I think you might just be, like,

a projection of my subconscious.

-Really? -Does that make sense?

Would I even have, like, a subconscious

if I'm unconscious or post-conscious?

I feel like I'm here to help you figure this out.

-Or something. -Okay.

-Yeah. Okay. -Yeah. All right.

-Thank you. -Yeah, you got it.

Great!

So, uh, what religion's afterlife is just, like,

a weird community-theater version of your most recent apartment?

Well, I haven't read all the texts. Maybe the Torah or something?