Chapter 8: The One with the Candy and the Slap Bet Follow-Up
Phoebe Buffay, a woman who saw the good in everything, was in love. Or, at least, she was in a relationship with a man named Roger, who was a psychologist. He was handsome, kind, and… infuriatingly honest. He had a way of looking at a person and telling them exactly what was wrong with them. He was a human lie detector, a psychological mirror that reflected all their flaws back at them.
He was at Central Perk, sitting with the group, and he was in rare form.
"Joey," he said, his voice calm and clinical, "You have a compulsive need for external validation. You're always trying to get attention, to be liked. It's a defense mechanism against your own deep-seated fear of being alone."
Joey, who had been trying to get a free muffin from Gunther, stopped mid-sentence. He looked at Roger, then at the muffin, then back at Roger. "I just want the muffin," he said, his voice small.
"No, Joey," Roger said, "You want the muffin because the muffin is a metaphor for the attention you crave."
The group, who had been listening in a state of stunned silence, finally erupted. Chandler, ever the wit, was the first to speak. "You know, Roger, you have a compulsive need to point out everyone's flaws. It's a defense mechanism against your own deep-seated need to be loved."
"It's not," Roger said, his voice calm, "But it's a good attempt at a projection. You're using my own words against me, which is a classic defensive strategy."
The group was fed up. They were a dysfunctional family, but they were their own kind of dysfunctional. They didn't need a therapist, especially not one who was dating their friend, to tell them what was wrong with them. They needed a prank. They needed to get rid of him.
Adam, who had been watching the scene with a detached amusement, felt the familiar hum of the System. He saw an opportunity. Roger was a perfect "sitcom villain," a character who was so annoying that the audience would cheer when he was finally gone. He could help. And he could use it to win another Slap Bet.
He closed his eyes for a moment. System, I need to get rid of a competitor for a future date, specifically an annoying psychologist. Give me a plan.
[System request received. Request framed as 'Removing a romantic rival from the dating pool to ensure a clear path to a potential partner.' Request accepted. Generating 'Roger Prank Protocol.']
The holographic interface in Adam's mind flickered to life. [Objective: Use an obscure fact about Roger's childhood to win a bet and a prank on him. Step 1: Propose a bet about his love for candy. Step 2: Use the obscure fact to win the bet. Step 3: The loser has to get slapped by the winner.]
Adam opened his eyes, a mischievous glint in them. He walked over to the group, where they were all complaining about Roger.
"We can't just get rid of him," Monica said, "He's dating Phoebe. We have to be nice."
"No," Adam said, "We have to be clever. We have to use his own psychology against him. We're going to pull a prank on him."
He turned to Roger. "Roger, I bet you a hundred dollars that you can't go a week without eating candy."
Roger, a man of science and discipline, laughed. "A hundred dollars? Adam, that's a ridiculous bet. I don't eat candy. It's a childish pleasure. It's a defense mechanism against emotional pain."
"Exactly," Adam said, "And I bet you that I know why you eat candy."
Roger, intrigued, leaned forward. "Why, Adam? Why do I, a man of science, eat candy?"
Adam, a small smile on his face, revealed the obscure fact the System had given him. "Because, Roger, when you were a kid, your parents used to bribe you with candy to go to your therapy sessions. You're a candy-eating psychologist. You're the very thing you try to avoid."
Roger's face went pale. The group, stunned, looked at him. The truth, in this case, was funnier than any joke. Roger, defeated, got up and walked out of the coffee shop, a defeated man. He never came back.
Adam, with a flourish, produced a crisp fifty-dollar bill he had gotten from the last bet. "A hundred dollars," he said to the group, "I won the bet. Who wants to slap him?"
The group, laughing, all took a turn. Adam just smiled. He had helped a friend, won a bet, and gotten rid of a "sitcom villain." He was a master of his domain. The progress bar in his mind ticked up once more.
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