Nettles/Transcript

[Screen shows dead trees and growing nettles. Salad Fingers is seen standing near them.]

Salad Fingers: H-hello, hello. Today, i-I've been enjoying the pleasures (Makes mouth noises with his tongue) o-of nettles.

[Salad Fingers is holding a nettle and stroking it. His fingers are covered in red blisters.]

[He walks up to an old pram.]

Salad Fingers: Oh! Wh-wha-what's this rather queer looking contraption? (He walks closer to it and touches the handle.) Y-y-you can be called a... nettle carrier.

[Salad Fingers pulls down the sheet on the inside, and places the nettle he's holding underneath it.]

Salad Fingers: There you go!

[Salad Fingers walks away with the pram. Suddenly, an angry armless man named Harry with a BBQ apron walks up to where the pram was, watching Salad Fingers walk away with it. He growls in anger, and follows him swiftly.]

[Screen cuts to the outside of Salad Fingers house. The angry guy yells in anger, as he runs up to it. Salad Fingers is seen in a corner with a nettle, and he is shirtless. The angry guy watches him through a window in confusion.]

[Salad Fingers rubs the nettle over his nipple, making it rashy and irritated. He moans loudly in great pleasure. Milk then drips out from his nipple.]

Salad Fingers: Uh, oh. It seems nettles have made the milk drop out from inside my teat. Heh.

[The angry guy watches in pure anger, as he shouts and growls, running towards Salad Fingers door, banging on it with his head.]

Salad Fingers: The nettles make me think happy times.

[Screen cuts to a flash back of Salad Fingers and Hubert Cumberdale at some sort of salon, getting their 'hair' dried in a salon hair dryer. Scene cuts back to Salad Fingers.]

Salad Fingers: Oh, bubble trumps!

[The screen cuts back to the angry guy, still banging on the door with his head. His head is covered in his blood, as he collapses. Salad Fingers opens the door off screen.]

Salad Fingers: Oh, hello! Y-you've picked a rather late hour to be visiting me. Have you got a name? (Not noticing that his name tag says 'Harry.') I-i-i think your called, Milford Cubicle. Uh, w-why don't you come in? Y-you can have a sit down, and rest those weary legs. (He grabs Harry, or "Milford Cubicle", and drags him into the house) I-i'll give you a little hand if your feeling rather fatigued, M-Milford Cubicle.

[Screen cuts to a hook inside Salad Fingers house. He places Harry, or Milford onto it.]

Salad Fingers: I-is that comfortable?

[Milford just hangs there silently, with his head drooping. Salad Fingers plays a Japanese sounding song on a random flute quite well. After a while, he stops.]

Salad Fingers: I say, huh, w-would you like a warm glass of milk, Milford Cubicle?

[END]