Two P's In A Pod

"Fries Don't Belong Anywhere Near Milkshakes" (Pilot)

Preston pictured above. Artwork by me :)
———

The two boys always recorded at Preston's house.

It was a humble place, really. With its gate that required a code to get in, the brick pathway that wound its way up a hill that looked over the entire gated community, impeccably groomed gardens, water fountain display, and hedge maze, Preston Kline was practically living in a cottage in the woods. And that was just the East Wing entrance.

Inside the labyrinthine-mansion-house, two boys, both 18, were engrossed in a very important conversation.

"Fries don't belong anywhere near milkshakes," said Parker Jones. Even with a couple of cheap green LED lights illuminating his face, Preston could make out the smaller boy's furrowed eyebrows and signature scowl. "I can't believe you just said that."

"I did," said Preston simply. He was surprised at Parker's stance on the subject. Considering his idea of fine dining was a romantic night at Olive Garden, Jones wasn't exactly a connoisseur. And considering that they'd had this argument off and on for the past 2 years. "You can't knock it 'til you've tried it."

"I mean, I'm just shocked that you—Preston Kline—king of fitness and weights and all that—is endorsing the consumption of fast food."

Preston chuckled. Oh Parker. Always one for hyperbole. He put his hands up in defeat. "I didn't say that. I just said it was good. Also, have you even tried it before?"

Parker paused. "Well no. But I shouldn't have to try something to know that it's nasty. For example, Choconuts are pretty much universally hated."

"...Yeah."

"And Anchovies are gross too, right?"

"I can't even look at anchovies."

"Right. So therefore, fries dipped in milkshakes are gross, and I don't have to torture my tongue by putting that ungodly food combo in my mouth. Cased closed."

"Woah wait, case reopened," said Preston. "I've actually tried all that stuff, so I have a leg to stand on. You haven't tried any of those things, so how do you know it's all bad?"

"Because I don't have to, Press," argued Parker. "If my stomach starts bubbling when someone says the name of the food, I think that's a sign."

Preston crossed his arms. With how thick they were, he looked like some sort of security guard. They were thicker than...a milkshake. "...Okay, but did you taste the food?"

Parker massaged his temples with his fingers. "Okay, let me ask you this: what about dipping some greasy-ass, limp-ass fries into a chocolate shake sounds appealing?"

"Are you trying to miss my point? The point is that you shouldn't dismiss something until you've tasted it." Preston spoke very slowly, as if he was talking to a child. "Also, why are you assuming the shake is chocolate? It could be vanilla or strawberry—"

Parker sighed. "We'll talk about this more later. It's been a full 5 minutes since we've started recording and we haven't introduced ourselves." He cleared his throat and started speaking again. This time, calmer and more professional. Or about as professional as an 18-year old could manage. "Welcome to Two P's In A Pod, the podcast where two boys from two opposite worlds come together and talk about...well, whatever, for now. My name is Parker Jones, award-winning traditional artist, writer, cook, motivational speaker, etcetera etcetera..." He looked at his co-host.

Preston looked at him with wide eyes. "Oh shit, is it my turn?" Parker nodded expectantly. "And I'm Preston Kline."

Parker sighed again. "Wow, way to sell yourself."