[Start with Ricardo and Meathead by the ticket scanner. Ricardo looks nervous, while Meathead taps his foot impatiently.]
Ricardo: (To the camera.) To scan, or not to scan? That is the million dollar Blotto ticket question!
Meathead: What’re you waiting for, Ricardo? You wanna be a squishy toilet brush for the rest of your life?
[Meathead pushes Ricardo, making him fall into the scanner. The scanner blinks, while Ricardo’s eyes shutter. Cut to the screen of the scanner, where four dollar signs blink. Ricardo jumps up from the scanner.]
Ricardo: Blessed mamacita of chance! My ticket is the big winner!
[Ricardo runs into the wall, knocking himself down. He stands up and kisses the ticket, and then strokes it.]
Ricardo: I am no longer what the poets call “flat broke”!
[Meathead walks up to him.]
Meathead: Enough celebratin’! Now that you’re filthy rich, you gotta learn how to look and act rich! And filthy!
[Meathead slides to the cash register, looking at himself in the reflection.]
Meathead: And I’m just the classy guy to show you how it’s done! (Belches loudly.)
[Cut to Ricardo laying on an electric grill, with a heating lamp above him. Meathead is next to the controls.]
Meathead: For starters, you’re way too pale! Wealthy folks love their fake tans!
[Meathead turns on the heating lamp as Ricardo winces.]
Ricardo: (Sniffing, as he starts to grow orange.) Hmm, this tan does not smell fake. It smells…banana-y.
[Meathead flips Ricardo over with a spatula, revealing bright red burns and grill marks on his back, along with a noticeable rear end.]
Meathead: Whoops! Better turn up the heat! We’re late for your hair appointment!
Ricardo: But I do not have hair.
[Cut to Sparkles pulling a clump of black hair from a drain clog. She walks up to Meathead and Ricardo. Ricardo is sitting in a chair wearing a smock, he now has a streaky orange tan.]
Sparkles: You do now!
[Sparkles spirals the hair around Ricardo, humming. She fixes the hair into a curled haircut with a handlebar mustache.]
Meathead: No.
[Sparkles keeps spiraling at the hair, turning it into an afro and walrus mustache.]
Meathead: Not even!
[Sparkles spirals at the hair again, turning it into a slicked back haircut with a pencil mustache and goatee.]
Meathead: Oh, boy…
[Sparkles spirals at the hair again, turning it into cornrows.]
Meathead: No!
[Sparkles spirals at the hair again, turning it into a messy side swept haircut with a messy mustache.]
Meathead: Uh-uh!
[Sparkles spirals at the hair again, turning it into a side swept haircut with small sideburns.]
Meathead: Perfect!
[Cut to the top of Ricardo’s hair. Sparkles squirts ketchup and mustard in it, dyeing it bright blonde.]
Sparkles: (Offscreen.) Some unnatural color…
[Cut back to Ricardo, Sparkles, and Meathead. Sparkles is now holding a can of hairspray.]
Sparkles: And a spritz to achieve maximum helmet hair! (Sprays Ricardo’s hair.) A tornado couldn’t undo that ‘do!
[Cut to Ricardo standing on a stool with his arms outstretched. A cardboard dressing curtain is behind him. Meathead is next to him, while Fingers is measuring him with a small length of tape measure.]
Meathead: As I always say, “The peel makes the banana”!
[Fingers rips off Ricardo’s peel. The bottom of Ricardo’s tip is pixelated. Ricardo screams, as he covers himself with his hands.]
Ricardo: I’m in my banana birthday suit!
[Fingers throws away Ricardo’s peel and grabs one from offscreen with a blue suit and red tie on it. Meathead holds up a cracked mirror, which Ricardo looks into.]
Ricardo: Hey, who is this dashing fruit, and what has he done with Ricardo?
Meathead: Now for the icing on the cake! Aftershave!
[Fingers grabs a bottle from offscreen and starts to dump the contents onto Ricardo.]
Meathead: I mixed it myself out of prune juice, pine air freshener, and rusty pipe water!
Ricardo: (With stink lines coming off of him.) Oh yes, I positively reek of success! I am a new banana! Now, begone, peasants!
[Ricardo shoves Meathead offscreen, as he lands in the hot dog rollers, spiraling around as he reacts in pain.]
Ricardo: (Offscreen.) I am too rich to associate with the likes of you!
[Meathead rolls out of the hot dog rollers, crushed. Fingers walks up to him, with a pitying look on his face.]
Meathead: (Dazed.) I taught him everything he knows…so proud…