STEVE reads a poem.
STEVE: (reads) Whether we weather the storm together, or whether we wither and dither about like single-servings of soggy witherers and ditherers, we’ll always have this issue to burn for warmth. So long as one of us remembers to print it out beforehand, of course.
Also, I don’t own a printer.
(to audience) Franklin Scrotal-Waxing wrote that in 1935, and nobody has the faintest clue why. Some believe he’d been driven mad by his sexually-charged addiction to drinking paint. Others claim the writing caused the paint drinking. And because Mr. Scrotal-Waxing perished in a tragically delicious paint fire only two months after writing this piece, which police mistook for a suicide note, the world is left to wonder why anyone cares to remember a man stupid enough to drink paint and leave his awful scribblings where perfectly decent persons and perverts might see.