It's less creepy if you forget it's on Newgrounds.
Normally I'm all about story, especially on Newgrounds, but I'll settle for characterization as long as the execution's good. Almost anything FBF is good, as long as it's not dots and lines bouncing around, splashes, and explosions. Thankfully, this cartoon has actual cartoon in it.
More than anything it reminds me of those very early Mickey Mouse cartoons, where walking and smiling were enough because animation itself was an amazing new innovation. You'd think that would make it too derivative to be relevant, but we seriously see so little of this oldschool stuff on NG, and it takes so much more work than what we normally see on NG, that everything old is new again. This toon gains relevance simply by rediscovering and reinventing an archaic form.
To those who don't get it: it ain't rocket science. There's a pissed-off guy and a happy guy. The happy guy wants to cheer the pissed-off guy up. The pissed-off guy isn't having any of it, on account of bein' pissed off. Happy guy pranks pissed-off guy. Pissed-off takes the bait, then gets hurt reacting to the prank. Happy guy goes "ohshitohshitohshit" and bugs out. Pissed-off guy recovers from his spill, realizes he got pranked, and laughs it off. He turns pink because now he's happy, too. Happy guy realizes he not only accomplished his mission of cheering pissed-off-guy up, but also pissed-off-guy will not kick his ass for the prank that got him hurt. "Whew."
Yeah, I was rubbed the wrong way at first just like everybody else. I thought he was gonna be ghey, or the blue guy was gonna murder him in a shower of blood, or it was just crazy random abstract weirdness and the suitcase was gonna start eating people, then turn into a bird, then the bird would splash against the floor, rendering everything we'd seen up till that point completely irrelevant. That's the cynicism of the modern internet talking.
What really makes this film uplifting is, when it's over, -and I mean *only* when it's over- you realize that there wasn't anything dark or pithy about it after all, it's just the story of a dude trying to cheer up a stranger. It's an isle of child-like innocence in a sea of dick jokes.
That's my interpretation of it, anyway. That's the nice thing about mood pieces, everyone can interpret them however they like. Don't get it? Erase your assumptions and expectations and watch it again. Try to look at it from an outsider's point of view. Even just read other peoples' interpretations and try them on to see if they work for you. But never take anyone's word for it, what a piece means, not even the original artist. Art *always* has something hidden to teach us.
Okay so you get some pork chops from the store. These are real thick pork chops that have been cut most of the way through the middle, like little raw pork sandwiches. You need a big, deep skillet with a glass lid that locks in most of the steam. Heat the skillet up to high, throw a little butter in the pan, and put the pork chops in (still folded like little sandwiches,) and sizzle them on both sides for 1-2 minutes. Just enough to get the outside golden-brown. Put these on a plate when they're done and set aside. DON'T eat 'em yet, raw pork is BAD for you!
Now you make a cup of chicken stock from bullion in one pot and some stove top stuffing in another. (Chicken stock from the store works, too.) Stuff each of the butterflied pork chops with stuffing, like little inside-out sandwiches. Stick a toothpick through all the way through each sandwich to hold it together while cooking.
Now you put the leftover stuffing in the skillet, put the stuffed porkchops on top of that, and pour the chicken broth over the whole thing. (Hope your skillet is big enough to hold all this shit.) Now put the lid on, and steam the porkchops for like an hour on medium-low heat. Steaming not only cooks the insides of the pork chops, but it softens up all that golden-brown char so you get the taste but not the toughness. Cut through the pork to make *absolutely sure* it's cooked all the way through. Serve.