Josh raised his head from his morose contemplation of the scratch on his desk and eyed Sam in silent disapproval. Knock, his gaze said clearly.

"A hockey player! He's not even good!"

"What?" Josh managed to gather enough energy to speak.

"They’re having lots of sex," Sam muttered wildly.

"Are we talking about Mallory now?"

"So I didn't call her. What, she couldn't call me?"

"Wait, let me put on my talking-about-Mallory face." Josh carefully arranged his features in an expression of interested amusement. Sam shook his head.

"That's your happy Sam-and-Mallory face. I need the sad Mallory-and-other face."

Josh attempted to feign sympathetic horror, but all he could manage was polite concern. Fortunately, that was good enough for Sam.

"Okay, where was I? Oh. So, she sees the picture, but does she call me to yell? No. Which makes me think she doesn't care. I mean, the first few days I was busy, then I was afraid she didn't care anymore." Sam paused to take a breath, and Josh stepped in smoothly.

"Didn't we have this conversation a while back? I mean, is she still dating the hockey player?"

Sam blinked. "I dunno."

"Well?"

"That's not the point!"

"No?" Josh's gaze slid back down to his desk as he struggled to maintain the facade of helpful friend. His attention began to wander.

"The point is-"

"The point is we need to get drunk," Josh interrupted.

"We do?"

"Yes."

"Easy for you to say. One beer and wham."

"Ha, ha. Come on, we're going to a bar." Josh pulled himself to his feet and left.

Sam followed reluctantly.

"The *point* is," Sam said, philosophically pondering his half-empty bottle of beer, "women- Hey! I just figured out whether the bottle is half-empty or half-full!"

"Which is it?" Josh asked, enthralled.

Sam drained the bottle in one long gulp, slammed it down on the table, and announced, "Completely empty!"

They laughed hysterically for a few seconds, until Josh held up a finger.

"Waittaminute," he slurred, "That doesn't count. The saying talks about glasses, not bottles."

"Ah," Sam said wisely, "but it works for glasses too." He gestured drunkenly at Josh's half-empty (or half-full) glass of bourbon straight. "Try it." Josh drained the glass. "It works!"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I think I want a glass too. Now let's see if we can find the bartender, to make them completely full!"

A full minute of laughter followed.

Some time later, it occurred to Josh, who had switched to beer, that Sam had never gotten around to explaining what his point was. "What's your point?" he asked.

Sam blinked at him. "Wha' point?"

"The one, the one, the one you were making, you know, before."

"Ohhhhh. Oh. Yeah. My point is..." Sam trailed off to think of his point. "Oh. Women, see, always expect the men to do the, the, advancing and stuff, and then complain when we get it wrong. And I think they should try doing it for a while and see how they like it."

"I know what you mean," Josh agreed somberly. "I've been waiting for Donna to make a move for years."

"Ah-hah!" Sam crowed triumphantly. "I knew you liked Donna."

Josh grinned sheepishly.

"So why don't you ask her out?" Sam asked, sincerely.

"We work together... and she'd get all mushy on me. And I just can't bring myself to ask her, even though, you know, it hurts to know she's going out with other guys. That, you know, aren't me."

"Love is like that."

"Love is like... mushy?"

"Yeah. Like mushy mashed potatoes. I mean, mashed potatoes are good, but you have to mash all those potatoes to get the yummy stuff."

"And also, you need to add milk and butter," Josh agreed, drunkenly.

"Well, I suppose you could do that with Donna," Sam said doubtfully. "Is she into that kind of thing?"

"What?"

"What?"

Josh hesitated, then shook his head. "No, love isn't like potatoes. It's like... fruit juice. Making fruit juice. Everyone loves fruit juice, but you have to squeeze a whole lot of those fruit before you have a glass of juice worth drinking."

Sam squinted at his glass as he pondered this, then shrugged. "No. Love is like, love is like, you know what love is like? Love is like pain, man."

"Pain," Josh agreed, and they clinked glasses.

Sam's head snapped up as someone started up the jukebox in the corner. "I know this song," he said. "This so applies to me."

"All alone at the end of the evening," the singer crooned, "when the bright lights have faded to blue, I was thinking about a woman who might've loved me, and I never knew..."

"You're not all alone," Josh said, comfortingly. He pointed at himself and added, "I'm here," just in case Sam hadn't understood.

"I'll be alone when I get home," Sam responded, getting all choked up.

A solitary tear rolled down his cheek and dripped into his glass. Solitary, he thought. Just like me. He sniffled.

"D-don't get sad," Josh pleaded, his own eyes welling up. "You'll make me sad too!"

"I'm sorry," Sam said, "I'm just feeling melan... melingc... ma... a bit down."

"Thinking about Donna, huh?"

Sam frowned. "No-o. You're thinking about Donna. I'm thinking about Mallory."

"Women suck," Josh said sagely.

"They're supposed to stick by you through thick and thin even if you don't call them. Or," Sam added, wagging his finger at Josh, "even if you don't declare your undying love for them."

"But they don't!"

"We could do without women, I say. I mean, I mean, I mean, we don't need them."

"And they suck."

"Yeah!"

"If it all fell to pieces tomorrow, would you still be mine?" asked the jukebox.

Sam contemplated this for a moment. "No!" he wailed, "She wouldn't!" and started sobbing heartbrokenly.

"Don't," Josh whimpered, and started crying too.

The bartender approached them, looking vaguely concerned. "Hey," he said.

Josh waved him away. "'S okay," he choked through his tears, "I just have a delicate system. Donna knows." This sparked off a fresh bout of misery. The bartender backed away.

"How about I get you two refills?" he suggested. He was new on the job, and hadn't yet learned to judge most people's cut-off point.

Sam nodded enthusiastically, and the bartender moved away.

"Sam? Josh?"

The two staffers snapped upright. "CJ?"

CJ gazed down at them, brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

Sam hastily used his sleeve to wipe his eyes, struggling to get a hold of

himself. "Nothing. Josh has a delicate system."

Josh cried silently into his beer.

"You're drunk!"

"Nononono," Sam said. "No. We're... uh..." He hesitated. "Okay, maybe a bit drunk. A little teeny tiny bit." He held his thumb and forefinger a miniscule distance apart to indicate how drunk they weren't.

CJ groaned. "Donna said she heard you say you were going to a bar. Know what I said? I said, 'Nonsense, not even Josh would be stupid enough to have more than half a beer on a Tuesday night, because we all know how useless he'd be in the morning. And even if he were that utterly idiotic, surely Sam would stop him.' Just think how stupid I'm going to look tomorrow morning."

Sam's lip started trembling. "Josh is a bad influence! I'm sorry!" he sniffled. "We just wanted to get cheered up!"

"And I'm sure you'll feel very cheery tomorrow," CJ said through gritted teeth. "I'm taking you home. Where are your coats?"

"Um, the bartender hung them up somewhere," Josh blubbered.

She sighed heavily. "I'll be right back," she assured them, and wandered off in search of their coats.

"Wow, CJ's great," Sam sighed.

"Yeah," Josh agreed. "All women are great."

"We don't deserve them."

"We're lucky they consent to even look at us."

"Women rock," Sam decided.

"Yeah. What would we do without them?"

"Yeah."

"I want to propose a toast," Josh said. "To women. They're amazing."

"Women," they chorused.

The glasses clinked.