EXT. – STREET CORNER – DAY
A bad neighborhood, where TWEEKER and TWEEKETTE argue.
TWEEKETTE: You’re holdin’ out on me!
TWEEKER: I ain’t holdin’ nuthin’, bitch!
A ratty car squeals to a stop at the curb beside them.
TWEEKETTE: It’s Jesse Pinkman, Street Therapist!
JESSE: I can help, yo!
TWEEKER: Got any blue?
JESSE: I’m outta that life, man. Now I do therapy to redeem myself, ‘cause if I know anything, it’s meth-heads. But I do my therapy on the street, ‘cause I’m still an outlaw.
TWEEKER: I really need some blue, man!
JESSE: And I need a state medical license, but the DEA ain’t gonna let that happen either. What’s the problem here?
TWEEKETTE: Tweeker’s holdin’ out on me!
TWEEKER: For the last time, I ain’t holdin’, bitch!
JESSE: Hey! Don’t call her a bitch, bitch!
TWEEKETTE: And stop holdin’ out on me!
JESSE: Meet her needs, yo!
TWEEKETTE: He never tells me what he’s got hidden away in there!
JESSE: Narrate that fat stack of feelings!
TWEEKER: But all she wants is the blue, man!
JESSE: Yo, the blue is just a cover for your deeper issue.
TWEEKETTE: Oh, it’s all about the blue!
JESSE: It is not about the blue, alright?! And what’s with you expecting him to take care of you? You got, like, daddy issues or something?
TWEEKETTE: I don’t have daddy issues!
JESSE: Hey, I know daddy issues, okay? So no more half-measures. We’re going full DMV-2067 psychosociable science here.
TWEEKER: DM what?
JESSE: Yo, this is science! Like, with beakers and robots and shit. Let’s try a role play —
Tweekette pulls a gun on Tweeker.
TWEEKETTE: Gimme your blue, Tweeker!
JESSE: So not what I had in mind…
TWEEKER: Pinkman! Help!
JESSE: What, you think I got some magnet hidden away here to pull that gun from your old lady’s hands?!
TWEEKETTE: I said gimme the blue!
JESSE: She’s got a gun, bitch! Give it to her!
Tweekette shoots Tweeker.
JESSE: Yeah… Um… I’m gonna give you a referral.
Jesse peels out, fleeing the scene.
TWEEKETTE: I shoulda stayed in grad school…