Michael says nothing, but you see him playing with his hair. blow drying it, spraying it, teasing it.... then Max comes in...

Michael: Hey, don't you know that this place is supposed to be private?

Max: I was coming in to tell you that this Howie person is getting dangerous. Also, why spend so much time to make your hair like that when it looks at that after you get up in the morning?

Michael: It's called hygene.

Max: yeah, whatever. You got five minutes.

cut back to confessional...Michael

Michael: ok, no one understands the preparation that goes into having such a beautiful body of hair such as mine. It takes commitment, it takes a sense of style. No one appreciates that. I think they are jealous or prejudiced. They can't see behind my spiky hair. If they can't see behind that, they can't see me.

Someone rings the doorbell.

Michael: Can someone get that? Kinda working on the hair...

Liz: Um...showering here. I can't go out there naked.

Max: Although I would love to see you do that.

Liz: Come in here, (pulls him into the shower in his white wife beater...ok...I had to add in my superficial jb fantasy)

Isabel: Do I have to do everything around here? Ugh! (she walks over to the door, opens, Howie stands there...) AAAAAAAAh! You guys!

Max: What, what's wrong....(runs out of the shower with only his soaking boxer shorts on..)

Isabel: It's the hair...It's so greasy!

Michael: yes, someone should teach him how to maintain that mop of hair.

Isabel: Oh no, its catching on fire!

Cut to confessional...Isabel

Isabel: I have never been so scared in my life. The fire just started and I thought to myself, oh no, the house! So I grabbed everything we could, including that really kewl automatic cappuccino maker, you know the one we got because we were on the Real World. But Max stopped it.

Cut back to the door scene.

Howie: It um...it has begun? is that what I’m supposed to say?

Max: Who are you? Why are you here? What do you want from us?

Howie: Well...Isabel would do.

Max: Huh?

Michael: No....(starts spraying the hairspray frantically at Howie)

Isabel: Do you think you could do anything without that hairspray?

Michael pushes Howie outside the door onto the lawn. He continues to spray. There is a spark still in Howie's hair. The hair spray is flammable. Howie begins to melt.

Howie: I'm melting, I'm melting.