| Rob has written a poem for Sandra, his one true love. At the office party, he finally plucks up the courage... |
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 | ...your ebony hair upon my pillow, how the days would fly by, our pleasure soaring into the sky... | |
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| I can see my reflection in his forehead. | |
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| Did you like it? | |
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| Wait, what was he talking about? | |
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| Rob leaves the party, and takes solace in the company of his favourite bartender.... |
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| ...and that's how it happened. Why are women so cruel, Ned? | |
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| I swear to God, if you read me any of your godawful poetry I will hurl myself off this balcony. | |
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