(Episode begins in the Phone Home area, located in the Space Tree Station. Benson is calling Pam.)
Pam: Listen, Benson. We need to talk.
Benson: We are talking. Ooh, wanna hear how many pushups I did at training today?
Pam: No, we need to really talk.
Benson: Oh, okay.
Pam: This...this isn't working for me anymore.
Benson: Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.
Pam: Benson, you're a great guy, but I have no idea when you're coming back, or-or if you're coming back.
Benson: Sure, sure.
Pam: You know, statistically, the further away two mates are from each other, the less likely it is that their realationship will last. I've done the calculations, and our odds *sniffles* are only 1.35%.
Pam: I'm...I'm-I'm sorry, Benson. It's not you, it's just...math. I think we should just be friends.
Benson: I get it. I was sent millions of miles into space against my will, you're back on Earth...
Pam: Are you sure you're okay?
Benson: I totally understand. I am good.
(Cut to Benson crying hysterically, surrounded by chicken wing mess.)
Benson (continued): Pa-a-am!! Why?!
(He slumps down splattering wing sauce and continues crying. Mordecai and Rigby come walking in.)
Rigby: Okay, okay, okay. My turn.
Rigby: Would your rather have spaghetti for fingers, or have spiders crawl out of your mouth every time you yawn?
Mordecai: Hm. That's a good one. If I eat my spaghetti fingers, do they grow back?
Rigby: Yes, but they're whole wheat pasta.
Mordecai: Aw sick, dude! Well, in that case, I gotta go with- uhh...
(The two notice Benson depressingly eating wings.)
Mordecai (continued): Uh-oh.
(They walk up to Benson.)
Mordecai (continued): Um, hey, buddy. Everything okay, man?
(Benson finishes sucking on a chicken bone.)
Benson: No. Pam dumped me. I've been eating all these wings, but they're not making me feel any better.
Rigby: Hey, wait. Didn't you and Pam eat wings on your first date?
(Benson widens his pupils in realisation.)
Benson: Oh nooooooooo! That's why they're not working! They're just making me think about Pam!
Mordecai: Whoa, whoa! Forget about wings.
Rigby: Yeah, these space wings are wack anyways. We know what'll make you feel better.
Mordecai & Rigby: Umm...frriiiiiiieeeeee...Fries!
Mordecai: Crispy, delicious fries! I'm talkin' curly!
Rigby: Crisp cut!
Mordecai: Wedge cut!
Rigby: Crinkle cut!
Rigby: Artisanal salt, yo!