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Brian: Well, I'll give this little cookie an hour before we're doing the no-pants dance. [Brian and Ron.] Brian: Time to musk up. [He opens the door to reveal different types of colognes.] Ron: Wow. Never ceases to amaze me. [He laughs.] Ron: What cologne are you gonna go with? London Gentleman or . . . wait. No, no, no. Hold on. Blackbeard's Delight? Brian: No. She gets a special cologne. It's called Sex Panther by Odeon. It's illegal in nine countries. Yep. It's made with bits of real panther, so you know it's good. Ron: It's quite pungent. Brian: Oh yeah. Ron: It's a formidable scent. [He cringes while Brian daubs the cologne on his neck.] Ron: It stings the nostrils. [He laughs.] Ron: In a good way. Brian: Yeah. Ron: Brian, I'm gonna be honest with you. That smells like pure gasoline. Brian: They've done studies, you know? 60% of the time, it works every time. Ron: That doesn't make any sense. Brian: Well, let's go see if we can make this little kitty purr. [Brian growls, leaves the office, and approaches Veronica.] Brian: Hey, sweet cheeks. Got an invite I'd like to extend your way. Veronica: My God. What is that smell? Oh! Brian: That's the smell of desire, my lady. Veronica: God no, it smells like - like a used diaper filled with Indian food. Oh! Excuse me. Brian: You know, desire smells like that to some people. [Other people start reacting to the cologne.] News station employee: What is that? It smells like a turd covered in burnt hair! [Another woman passes by Brian and reacts in disgust.] Woman: It smells like Bigfoot's dick! [Almost all of the employees flee the office to avoid the smell, and a woman starts screaming. Brian looks at his watch.] Brian: Oh. [The smell is so strong that it sets off the fire alarm. Brian tries acting casual and walks away.] Brian: Oh, what's that smell, huh? [The scene cuts to Brian being jet-hosed in the parking lot.] Hoser: This is worse than the time the raccoon got in the copier!

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