“Hi BoJack! It's your good friend Mr. Peanutbutter calling. Ah...I'm so excited. Just putting the final touches on the V-Day festivities. I have the most incredible day planned out for me and Diane. You're welcome to join us, if you like! At least stop by this evening, and I can give you your gift. And you can give me yours! Oh—Diane's just getting up now. Gotta get ready. Talk to you later!”
“Heyyyyya good pal. Hope you're having an amazing Valentine's Day. I was just wondering what you got me for the special occasion. Candy hearts? A box of caramels? Now look, if you got me chocolate, I'm sorry, but you know I can't eat that. Caramels, though. Caramels I love! And artisanal fudge! And peanut butter brittle! Just a couple of ideas, if you're still scrambling to find the perfect gift for me! Anyway, I'm also calling because I wanted to invite you to our next little outing. Have you ever been in a hot air balloon? Me neither, but I'm so pumped! They say two people max, but I think it could fit three if we squeezed in tight. Lemme know if you're in. Okay? Great! 10:30 AM, right in front of the Hollywoo sign. Be there or be square!”
“Hey BoJack! It's a shame I didn't see you at the hot air balloon, but hey, you must have a lot of people who love you! Sooooo, what did you get me? Perhaps a dozen red roses? Just kidding, I know they'd be yellow, because we're such good friends. Okay, I'm actually having a romantic lunch with Diane, so I better hang up soon. We're at Inn of the Seventh Ray. I mean, just the smells here are incredible! It's so romantic. I wish you could experience it with us! All right, Diane's looking at me funny. Have a great Valentine's Day, bud! Make sure to spend it with someone you love!”
“Did you get me a teddy bear? Awwww, BoJack, you big softy, you shouldn't have! You gotta stop by today and drop it off. I thought about getting you a teddy bear, too, one of those giant ones you get at Costco, but I already got one of those for Diane. And besides, my gift to you is even better. Plus I'll even throw in a patented Peanutbutter hug! Don't delay, this offer ends soon! So call now!”
“Hi BoJack, it's me again. It's just eating me up inside, wondering what you could've got me! I've been guessing all day! I got you something amazing. I'm sure you're gonna love it. Now, doesn't that make you curious about what it is? Hoho, well, you're gonna have to call me back to find out! I'll give you a hint: it's got lots of bourbon in it. 'Cause I know you love bourbon! Oh, I'm rambling. I had a couple glasses, so I'm all chatty. Okay, have a great one! Love ya!”
“Hey...um, it's me. Listen, I know I've been leaving you a lot of messages today, but...Diane just left. I don't know why. I mean, the plane didn't even write her full name! I don't know what to do, BoJack...I'm really in the doghouse now. I could use someone to talk to. Call me?”
“Why did I think this would be a good idea? Stupid, stupid, stupid. I had to call off the fireworks, and Gordon Ramsay just called me a donkey because I bailed on the private meal he was going to cook us. I know Diane doesn't like big romantic gestures, but I thought, 'cause it's Valentine's Day... I really, really need to talk to someone right now, and you're my only close friend. And, hey, I still need to give you your gift. I've also got half a bottle of Maker's Mark left over, if you wanna split...”
“Is she gonna be gone forever? I miss her so badly, BoJack, you don't even know. I've just been lying on my bed here—oh, the bourbon's gone, by the way, in case you were wondering. I drank it. But it's still in the dessert! Uh, I guess that's another hint. A dessert. That involves bourbon. It's calling your name...”
“Hey...so Diane still isn't here yet. I think she's really mad at me. Oh well, I guess we got to spend most of the day together...I just don't get it. How am I the bad guy here? I just wanted to show the world how much I love her, on Valentine's Day. Isn't that, like, a free pass?”
“Fine, you jerk. I'll tell you what your gift is. It's bourbon apple pie. Yeah. I made that. For you. With top-shelf, quality bourbon, all done up in a nice little heart-shaped pie pan. And I'm like 90% tempted to eat the whole pie, right now, so you better get your butt down here in 30 minutes if you want any. Well, okay, 45 minutes, with the traffic.”
“BoJack...I'm having a slice of the pie...”
“All right. That does it. What the hell could you be doing that's so much more important than spending the night with your very best friend, who may I remind you is lying in his bed all alone on Valentine's Day because his wife deserted him because he's too much of an idiot to realize that she hates all this lovey-dovey romance stuff, and he probably should've just gotten her a nice little teddy bear and a card, but hey, it's too late for that now! Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't be snapping at you, it's my own fault.”
“Wow, I never realized how much booze was in this house. Did you ever realize how much booze was in this house? I am not used to drinking this much on a daily basis. I mean, how do you do it?”
“But that's just it, BoJack, I don't know what to do. I've tried calling Diane like ten times tonight, she's not picking up. This is not good.”
“BoJack! Good news! I just got a text from Diane! Bad news: it says, 'Hi, honey. I love you, and I'll be back tomorrow, but I've told you several times that I don't like those big, public demonstrations. I need some time to myself to reflect on this relationship.' OK, so thank God she's not dead, but...where does that leave me?”
“What's shaking, BoJangles? I have an announcement to make: there is officially no more alcohol left in the house! And you know what that means. Time to partaaaaaay! Of course, it's not much of a party with one lone wolf, you feel me? I've got the tunes and the nosh, so all I need now is a friend to make things a little less lonely! Because, you know, if it's just one guy drinking alone until he's brought face-to-face with his own existential despair, well, that's just sad! But if there's two of us, then it's socially acceptable! Anyways, you know where to find me!”
“Oh, and you've got...an hour and forty-eight minutes before you're officially late for Valentine's Day. Still dying to know what you got me!”
“Okay, listen, you idiot. I didn't get you anything. Not a single thing. And you know why? Because we're. not. friends. We're not friends, and we're never going to be friends. When are you going to get that?
You know what I did this Valentine's Day? I stayed inside and drank. Like every other goddamn Sunday. Oh yeah, I felt lonely. I fucking ached for a companion today. And yet I still didn't want to do that with you. I mean, part of it's also that I binged on all the candy that I bought for Todd and I feel like absolute shit right now, but hey, when do I not feel like that.
So Diane left, huh? Honestly, I'm kinda surprised it took her as long as it did. You'd think, after five years, that you'd know this about her, that she doesn't like those big, disgustingly grandiose displays of affection you're so fond of. You would think. But you can't teach an old dog new tricks! ...get it? Because you're fifty-two and only getting older? And you're a dog? For real, though, how much of an idiot do you have to be to think she'd like getting her name written in the sky? Remember her birthday, how she went all ballistic 'cause you kept asking her if Tony Curtis was really dead? It wasn't about Tony Curtis. It was about the fact that you fundamentally don't know how to listen to your own wife. That's preeeeeetty sad.
It's not just that, though. Do you realize how many voicemails you've left me today? Go on. Guess.
...Seventeen. Yep. I usually turn off my phone so that I can avoid your voicemails, but after I had that last bag of Twizzlers, I physically couldn't get up, so my phone just kept going 'badoo.' All day. Newsflash: sending somebody a fuckton of voice messages isn't gonna suddenly make them like you. Nor is inviting them over to drink and then drinking all that's left before they get there. I ran out of alcohol at noon, amateur. And then I Googled "emergency bourbon delivery los angeles" and there you go, an industrial size quantity at my door. That's how it's done.
Also, kinda gives me the creeps that you wanted me to join in on your dates with Diane. Valentine's Day is a day for lovers, not friends. You do know that, right?
And even so...why the hell would I want to be your friend? We're nothing alike. You seem to think that because both of us were on some dumb family sitcom in the '90s, we're destined to be besties. But that's actually the only thing linking us together. I wrote a book that won me a Golden Globe. What the hell have you done of value in the past ten years? Your little game show? That's all teleprompter. All that dazzling wit is just you, reading lines, then spitting them out to an audience who's trained to laugh and clap at the right moments. It's not real acting, like I did in Secretariat. My performance touched people. I won an Oscar. You have to buy all your awards from pawn shops. How sad is that? Face it: you'll never be as talented and smart and charismatic and popular and well-liked as I am. So why don't you quit trying?
Oh, but the worst, though, is all those little passive-aggressive digs you think I don't notice. Let me tell you something. I am keenly aware of them. Yes, I drink a lot. I don't need to be constantly reminded of that. 'Oh, look, I made you an apple pie! But it can't just be any apple pie, oh no, it needs to have bourbon in it, because BoJack's incapable of consuming anything without alcohol in it, don'tcha know?' 'What's it like getting so drunk that you're confronted with the fact that your life's been a total and utter waste and you're going to die alone? Better ask BoJack, he does this every day!' Fuck you, fuck this stupid shitty commercialized holiday, fuck the wife who probably left you for good, and once again, fuck you.
Having said that, please drop off the rest of that pie at my house, it sounds delicious. Thanks.”