Well, I'll give this little cookie an hour before we're doing the no-pants dance.
[He laughs.]
What cologne are you gonna go with? London Gentleman or . . . wait. No, no, no. Hold on. Blackbeard's Delight?
No. She gets a special cologne. It's called Sex Panther by Odeon. It's illegal in nine countries. Yep. It's made with bits of real panther, so you know it's good.
It's quite pungent.
Oh yeah.
It's a formidable scent.
Yeah.
Brian, I'm gonna be honest with you. That smells like pure gasoline.
They've done studies, you know? 60% of the time, it works every time.
That doesn't make any sense.
Well, let's go see if we can make this little kitty purr.
[Brian growls, leaves the office, and approaches Veronica.]
Hey, sweet cheeks. Got an invite I'd like to extend your way.
My God. What is that smell? Oh!
That's the smell of desire, my lady.
God no, it smells like - like a used diaper filled with Indian food. Oh! Excuse me.
You know, desire smells like that to some people.
[Other people start reacting to the cologne.]
What is that? It smells like a turd covered in burnt hair!
[Another woman passes by Brian and reacts in disgust.]
It smells like Bigfoot's dick!
[Almost all of the employees flee the office to avoid the smell, and a woman starts screaming. Brian looks at his watch.]
Oh.
[The smell is so strong that it sets off the fire alarm. Brian tries acting casual and walks away.]
Oh, what's that smell, huh?
[The scene cuts to Brian being jet-hosed in the parking lot.]
This is worse than the time the raccoon got in the copier!
