[Ed. Note–While Johnny was the first to ask for it, the other characters in The Room also (obviously) need help as well. For reasons that will become clear, they didn’t make it to print. We’ve recovered them from the trash bin, however, and now you can read them as well!]

Dear Amy: I’m in a tough spot. I’m a woman trying to get her computer business up and running, but I’m hampered by my complete inability to exit the home I share with my fiancee. I’d really like to be a successful business woman, but he doesn’t seem to support me. Instead of buying me, say, a computer–any computer at all–he is constantly giving me sexy dresses and red roses (which he uses as foreplay). I tried to get us both drunk so I’d feel more comfortable talking about it, but he just broke some of our glasses and ended up trying to have sex with my belly button to horrible soft rock music. It’s bugging me so much it feels like an alien is trying to burst out of my neck. Anyway, his best friend is hella sexy and is successful as a… well, I don’t know what he does, but he seems to be doing well. I’m thinking about trying to seduce him and see if he can get me a computer, or at least hope that he understands female anatomy. What should I do? Do you think I should go for it?

–Sad in San Fran

Dear Sad: That sounds like a real belly-ache (ha ha, sorry). Listen, you’re a woman, and we women are completely evil and twisted, and if you understand life–and you do–you should play your fiancee for all he’s worth all while getting what you need from his best friend. You go, girl!

Dear Amy: I’m in a real pickle. I’m a successful… business… guy in a large West coast city, and everything was going well until recently. You see, I have this best friend, and he’s a really strong and caring guy. He’s about to get a promotion, and I really enjoy playing football with him–in alleyways, next to buildings, in a park–or running up stairs or going out for some hot chocolate and mint tea. Anyway, we’ve been best friends for so long, but now his fiancee is trying to seduce me. I get really nervous around women, so I never take my pants off, and while I tried to kiss her neck over and over and over again, she didn’t seem satisfied. I tried to focus myself and think about my best friend, but that just seemed to make things worse. I don’t know what to do. Also, do you think I should grow my beard back?

–Conflicted

Dear Conflicted: I think you’re speaking in code here, so I’m going to speak in code back: ditch the beard. Just come out and be honest. It’s not every day we get to stay with our “best friend” like you have, and maybe it’s just time to fully commit to that. Good luck.

Dear Amy: I spend a lot of time with my neighbors. They seem to think I’m a teenager, when I’m actually 43. They treat me like I have a mental handicap. That’s not my problem, though; the issue is that their bushes really chafe when I masturbate as I watch them having sex. Would it be rude of me to tell them to rip them out and plant something a little gentler?

–Always There

Dear Always There: I’ve notified the authorities of your return address. Freak.

Dear Amy: As a psychologist, I feel like I have a window into the inner workings of my fellow human beings. However, my friends are really confusing me. One seems to think I can help him even though he doesn’t even have a fully functioning brain–his wife is clearly cheating on him, but he doesn’t even see it–and the other guy smokes pot and nearly threw me off a roof, but then acted like nothing happened. Plus they’re trying to kill me through football. Anyway, I

–MIA

Dear Amy: I can finish that thought–I feel like I’m sitting on an atom bomb, since it turns out the guy who tried to throw the psychologist (who I’m clearly not) off the roof is having sex with the first guy’s fiancee (who I apparently know, too). My question is: Where the hell did I come from and what happened to the psychologist?

–The Stand In

Dear… uh… : What the fuck just happened?! WHO THE FUCK IS THAT SECOND GUY?!

Dear Amy: My boyfriend seems to think that if he feeds me chocolate, I’ll give him a blowjob and that no reciprocation is expected. He looks like a cross between Guy Fieri and a cartoon turtle, can’t keep track of his underwear, and speaks like a kindergartner talking to his stuffed animals. He won’t invite me to his place, so we end up “making out,” as he calls it, at my friend’s place for some reason. Also, I’m the hottest person in my entire friend group, and somehow I ended up with this guy. What the hell happened to me?

–Tired of Chocolate

Dear Tired: Never answer a casting call that only buys 1/4″.

Dear Amy: Hey Amy.

–Chris R

Dear Chris R: Chris R! I’ve been looking for you!

Dear Amy: Sure you have. You have my money, right?

–Chris R

Dear Chris R: Yeah, of course. It’ll be here in a few minutes.

Dear Amy: What do you mean a few minutes, Amy? Where’s… my money?

–Chris R

Dear Chris R: Okay. Just… just give me five minutes.

Dear Amy: Five minutes? You want five minutes, Amy? You know what? I haven’t got FIVE FUCKING MINUTES!

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I’m going to ask you again, Amy. Where’s my money?

–Chris R

Dear Chris R: I don’t have anything!

Dear Amy: Where’s my money, Amy? WHERE’S MY FUCKING MONEY, AMY?

–Chris R

[Dan Savage and Prudence bust out of the doors of a tin shed, grab Chris R. and take him away, never to be seen again]