Dinner in America (2020) Movie Script
1
(Eerie ambient music)
(Breathing heavily)
(Muffled chattering)
(Nurse) So, on a scale of one to ten,
ten being the strongest,
how are we doing on the nausea?
I'd say about... about an eleven.
(Nurse) You have
any ringing in your ears?
- (High-pitched ringing)
- Hm?
(Nurse) Any ringing or...
or buzzing of the ears?
You sound like you're underwater.
(Nurse) And any tingling sensations
in your fingertips or toes?
(Exhales)
In my mouth.
- (Nurse) You have tingling in your mouth?
- In my mouth.
(Nurse) Interesting.
You mind if I take a peek?
(Light buzzes)
(Cart clatters)
(Electronic music)
(Breathes heavily)
I bet you two wish
you were in Group A, huh?
(Electronic music continues)
Sorry it didn't work out.
You said $1,750.
It's $1,750 if you do all eight days.
- It's a new policy.
- New policy? Since when?
I was countin' on that scratch, man.
Sorry, kid. They're shaking things up
in Carpetland again.
The whole department's
getting the squeeze.
It's not like the glory days at CLR.
You know what?
Fuck Naltech!
Fuck this office!
Fuck you!
Fuck!
(Electronic music continues)
You got a smoke?
Yeah, sure.
I guess we both
got the boot, huh?
(Lighter flicks)
(Sighs)
I've been waiting 30 minutes
for the 151.
Fuckin' blows.
151 doesn't run on Sundays.
It's Sunday?
(Electronic music continues)
You wanna come home with me?
You know, Sunday dinner.
Mom always goes big.
I'll blow you too.
After dinner.
(Electronic music continues)
(Gulping)
(Exhales)
(Belches)
(Sighs)
Please don't look at me.
I'm not.
(Bill) Oh, Jesus Christ.
This sucks.
What's wrong with your hair?
What do you mean?
It's all shaved and stuff.
Hm.
Don't worry about it.
I like his hair.
What?
I do.
What's your name again?
Bill.
Do you hate me, Bill?
Nope.
Good.
Oh, no. Come on.
No, no!
- (Pounds table)
- No, no! Fuck!
Hit him!
Hit him!
Stomp him!
Come on!
Oh, that's lousy!
Every year, man.
I'm tellin' you...
I'm gonna go downstairs
and shower in a few minutes.
Why don't you come meet me?
(Bobby) It's fuckin' impossible.
It's impossible.
- Do you like football?
- (Bobby growls)
- They don't draft well.
- No.
(Bobby) Can't play defense,
they don't draft, they don't ski.
(Electronic music)
(Bill) Run!
- Run, you nigger!
- Run!
- (Bobby) Go, go, go!
- (Billy) Run, yeah!
(Cheering)
- There it is!
- Woohoo!
(Electronic music)
(Bobby) Ah!
That was awesome.
Did you see that shit?
That was awesome!
So you really like my hair?
Or are you just making conversation?
(Bill) Oh, yeah!
(ENGLAND DAN AND JOHN FORD
COLEY: "It's Sad to Belong")
Come on.
Dance with me.
I met you on a springtime day
- You were mindin'...
- Yeah?
And I was mindin' mine, too...
- Watch this.
- Lady, when you looked my way
I had a strange sensation
And, darlin',
that's when I knew
That it's sad to belong
to someone else
When the right one comes along
Yes, it's sad...
I'm really glad
you came to dinner.
When the right one comes along
Oh, I wake up in the night
And I reached beside me
Hopin' you will be there...
- Mom!
- (Gasps)
- What the fuck are you doing?
- (Record scratches)
Why? Goddamn it!
I hate you!
I hate you!
What the fuck is goin' on?
He was taking advantage of me.
She's tellin' stories, Bill.
That's the sauce talkin'.
Get the fuck out
of my house, pervert.
Get out!
Oh, I'll kill him, Daddy.
Get him!
(Electronic music)
(Screams)
Where you gonna go,
motherfucker?
You little pervert punk!
Come at me,
you fuckin' cocksucker!
(Bill) Oh, shit!
(Gasps)
My food!
No! My window!
You asshole!
You smashed my bay window!
He smashed our bay window!
Let's get him.
No, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Now watch the glass, Bobber.
(Gasping)
Call the cops!
Go on, call the cops!
(Electronic music)
Oh, crud.
(Boys laughing)
Nice save, cum-catcher.
Yeah, too bad Coach doesn't
have a bukkake team, retard,
you could probably get a full-ride.
Yeah, you could major in suckin' dick.
(Boys laughing)
No, leave it!
It's a good look for you.
Yeah, it gets me hard.
All that goo everywhere.
(Moans)
Are you gonna eat that?
Cos my dick is starving.
He didn't get enough calories
at breakfast this morning.
(Boys laugh)
Ah, fuck!
(Spits)
Where'd you get this dumb
fuckin' sandwich, retard?
You know it's a loser-ass sandwich, D.
There's just plain white paper
on the motherfucker.
Dude, tell me I didn't get some
of this shit on my tracksuit.
Oh, Coach would kill you, Derrick.
(Sighs)
I swear to God,
if any of this toxic waste
gets on my tracksuit,
I'm gonna track down
the Mexican who made it
and fucking kill his family!
God, fuck!
Let's fucking go.
(Mr. Hanley) Goddamn it!
One of these motherfuckers
shit all over the bedding.
Now they're all covered.
Patty!
Yes, Mr. Hanley?
Get a rag and some soapy water
and clean this up.
These fuckers gotta be
show quality
if we're gonna move 'em up
to the front window.
Like, hand soap
from the bathroom?
No, get some fuckin' shampoo!
We need 'em to shine!
Come on, move your ass!
(Breathes heavily)
(Slurps)
(Liquid splattering)
(Electronic music)
I'm gonna fuck you so hard
when we get back to Brando's.
Hey, look!
I think retard's jealous!
(Laughing)
What are you looking at,
you fucking dog?
(All barking)
(Insects buzzing)
(Coughing)
Oh, boy. That ground chuck
has a real kick to it.
Did you do something
different tonight?
- Take a sip of water, Norm.
- Oh.
Ahh.
That's a-spicy.
I don't know
what you're talking about.
You didn't spice it up
a little bit?
It's just a little cumin.
No more than the recipe
calls for.
Mom, what's cumin again?
Honey, let's not do this tonight.
Just eat your salad, please.
- Hey, um... shells are edible.
- Mm.
Anybody tried their shell yet?
And why are you not eating?
- Something happen at school?
- Mom, why are you doing this?
Why are you trying to pry, OK?
It's, like, pry, pry, pry with you.
No one's prying, Kev. Your mom
just asked you a question.
You need to take it down
a notch.
You are spazzing.
- Dad!
- Patty, cool it.
- So, how was school today?
- Oh, my God.
Is it always gonna be
an inquisition?
What did you do today?
Hmm?
You better tame that tone, mister.
I'm done.
May I be excused, please?
No, you may not.
You're gonna sit there with all of us,
eat your taco salad
and have dessert.
- I got a chocolate cake.
- (Chuckles)
Hey, Mom, can I go see a rock show
with Sissy and Karen on Friday?
Sissy and Karen?
That's a blast from the past.
I haven't heard you
talk about them
since you dropped out
of junior college.
What's the group?
Oh, they're this really cool
group from New York City.
They're, um...
really smart and stuff.
The music is almost educational.
What's the name of the group?
The Alliance.
Oh, I don't know.
That-that sounds pretty militant.
The Alliance?
I don't like the sound
of this New York militia music.
Come on, I never get
to do anything fun!
- (Fork clatters)
- Hey, you need to take it down a notch.
Shut the hell up, Kev!
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Watch the language.
All right?
Now, rock concerts are bad news.
Plus, we don't want you around
all those strobe lights.
That's true.
There's not gonna be
any strobe lights.
Hey, here's an idea.
Why don't you invite Sissy
and Karen over Friday night
and have a slumber party
like old times.
We can play Party Farm.
Dad can whip up
some homemade ice cream.
Hm-hm.
No one wants to play
that baby stuff anymore, Mom.
I'm 20 years old.
Now who's spazzing?
Kevin, shut the eff up!
OK, you really need
to take it down a notch.
(High-pitched screaming)
(Punk rock music playing)
Try to see me as I age
Things up there
with silent rage
Disgusted with this human race
Slightly narrowed in a daze
Cancer that controls your mind
The cancer
that consumes mankind
In a world so full of hate
Still it's just to procreate
No one listens,
no one will
And wastes,
you aren't as civilized
No match,
no conviction in their eyes
Fanatical religious right
Prayer with you
because you're white
Pro-white virgin,
now or never
Hold your breath,
hold your last breath...
(Breathes heavily)
See behind,
behind the crossing...
(Breathing heavily)
Get lost you hypocrite
We've had enough
of your bullshit...
(Breathing heavily)
No conviction in their eyes, no
(Breathing heavily)
Jesus Christ, lady.
It's a check,
not 100-dollar bill.
May I see
a second form of ID?
No, fuck you.
Don't be a cunt.
- What did you just say?
- You heard me the first time.
You're just not used
to anybody challenging
your fuckin' psychological warfare.
Now get my cash before I have
you fired for discrimination.
(Electronic music)
Are you trying
to buy some drugs?
Damn, this white boy
all business.
Yo, get away
from my fuckin' door.
Hey, keep these fuckin' kids
away from my door!
(Door closes)
(Sighs)
So my man, what you need?
Freestyle it.
- (Distant thudding)
- (Man) Don't do that shit!
(Muffled yelling)
Oh, check this shit out.
Some wigger kid offloaded
all this shit on me
for a pound of schwag.
Any of these motherfuckers
worth anything?
Yeah, this Neumann here.
You hit the jackpot.
Shit, man, make me an offer.
It's priced to scoot.
OK, cool.
Give me a week.
I gotta dump this shit.
All right.
Well, shit,
you wanna stick around?
- Smoke a joint?
- I can't.
It fucks with my motivation.
(Electronic music)
Are you fucking kidding me?
(Door chime rings)
I think I'm in love.
Would you look at this clam?
Man, I'm glad the bush
making a comeback.
Shit, it's about fuckin' time.
You might want
to check out page 69.
I think you'll be interested
in page 13.
My man.
You want a hot dog?
No.
Let me get a... let me get
two packs of Royals.
Royals?
Don't sweat, man.
What the fuck I care?
(Door chime rings)
Man, didn't I tell you not
to fucking come in here again?
Huh?
Come on.
Motherfucker!
(Door chime rings)
(Electronic music)
(Car alarm blaring)
(Electronic music)
(Electronic music)
(Police radio chattering)
(Lighter flicks)
(Tires screeching)
(Tires screeching)
(Door chime rings)
(Electronic music)
(Tires screech)
You seen anyone suspicious
running around back here?
(Police radio chattering)
You see this creep,
dial the number
at the bottom of the flyer.
(Police siren chirps)
I knew I recognized you.
You were in my Music Appreciation course
at the J.C. before I quit.
- Yeah?
- (Lighter flicks)
Professor Babcock
threw a stapler at you.
OK, yeah.
Your hair was longer then.
Like this.
But other than that,
you look the same.
You look the same too.
Thanks.
It's not really a compliment.
Where do you work,
the ice cream shop?
(Sighs)
I wish.
The Pet Zone next door.
So what are you doin' out here?
What, are you on break or somethin'?
Mr. Hanley just let me go.
What, like you got fired?
Well, Michigan's raising
the minimum wage,
so he's gonna go back to cleaning
the animal cages himself
until the economy
gets back on its feet.
Jesus Christ, that's what
he fuckin' told you?
Uh-huh.
So, I'm guessing that's not
chocolate chip on your smock.
You're funny.
Look, you got someplace
around here we can go?
Mm.
(Door clicking)
(Sighs)
(Lighter flicks)
You can't smoke in here.
My dad's allergic.
- (Inhales)
- Fuck your dad.
Is that your mom?
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
What, is she a bull dyke?
- What do you mean?
- I mean, does she eat pussy?
You see, the haircut
gives it away.
It makes her look like
a real pro muff-diver.
(Inhales)
Is that your brother?
- Yeah, that's Kevin.
- Oh.
He looks like a faggot.
Well, he's not homosexual.
Yeah, I'm sure
he just looks queer.
You the oldest?
Yeah.
Kevin's adopted.
No shit?
Imagine that.
The old barren bull dyke
adopting a little fag kid
just doing her part
for society and shit.
Come on.
(Electronic music)
You want something to drink?
Sure, what do you got?
Water, ice tea,
cherry juice box...
That's a pretty
weak-ass selection.
- How 'bout a couple of beers?
- Sorry, Dad's allergic.
To cigarette smoke
and alcohol?
Yeah.
Jesus fuckin' Christ.
How does he cope?
What do you mean?
I mean, how does he cope
in this loser fuckin' family
without some kind of vice?
What's a vice again?
You know,
I can't figure you out.
You got shit for brains
and zero personality,
but you lose those glasses
and that shit-peppered smock,
hell, I could probably
get hard.
You know I'm fuckin'
with you, right?
(Slurps)
Take off your glasses.
Let your hair down.
Shake it out.
Now take off
that stupid fuckin' smock.
Why did you bring me
to your house?
I don't know.
Bullshit.
I think you know exactly
why you brought me here.
You got a boyfriend?
No.
Girlfriend?
No.
I don't give a shit if you
suck pussy like your mom.
I got a thing for dyke bitches.
No, I'm not homosexual.
(Chuckles)
You know I'm still
fuckin' with you, right?
(Chuckles)
You need
to take it down a notch.
What is that supposed to mean?
(Chuckles)
Look, I owe you one.
You name it.
Deal?
Think about it.
(Door opens)
- (Connie) Patty?
- That's my mom.
I could use your help
with the grocery bags, please.
Oh, my.
(Coughing)
Mm.
That is fuckin' delicious, Connie.
Thank you.
- I was half starved.
- Dad, he just...
You're gonna let him get away
with that F-bomb?
(Sneezes)
- Quiet, Kev.
- Yeah. Quiet, Kev.
- Shut up, retard.
- That's enough, Kevin.
- What do you call this again?
- Chicken cordon bleu.
It's fantastic.
Well, it was frozen.
It's not like she made it herself, so...
Tame that tone, Kev.
You're on thin ice!
Kevin, you're at an eight,
and you need to be at about a three.
I'm sorry.
He's usually not so aggressive.
It's fine. It's fine.
I'm just not used
to cooking of this caliber.
You see, in Africa
our rations are very meager.
- Africa?
- My parents are missionaries.
We've, uh... spent the last three years
building churches in Tanzania.
Oh, my.
If you survived on a diet of ugali
and, uh, sweet potatoes for three years,
you'd understand why I'm so ecstatic
about your mom's cordon bleu.
- What's ugali?
- Don't worry about it.
(Sneezes)
- So what's with the haircut?
- Stop prying.
Stop frothing.
Another word and you both
can forget about dessert.
You know, there's no dessert
in Tanzania.
You know, I've always dreamed
of doing missionary work.
Uh... seeing the world
or really making a difference.
Well, you know, nothing's,
uh... nothing's stopping you
from enlisting
on Team Jesus, Norm.
In fact, I'm rounding up a fresh batch
of apostles as we speak.
Oh, well, uh, uh...
(Chuckling)
I was thinking more down the line,
you know, after I retire.
It's good to have a purpose.
But if there's any
other way we can help...
Actually, um... I'm in need
of a host family for the week.
I beg your pardon?
He's looking
for somewhere to stay, Norm.
Oh!
You see, when we moved to Tanzania,
my parents, they sold the house.
They donated the money
to the church.
Our, uh... regular
host family's out of town,
so I've been sleeping
on the couch in the church
for the past two nights.
He can stay in Kevin's room
on the top bunk.
No frickin' way!
Take it down a notch, Kev.
- What do you think?
- (Sneezes)
Yeah, I have no problem with it.
I'm happy to help.
- (Sniffs)
- (Fork clatters)
This blows!
Don't get a say?
What's with all the hostility, rager?
I'm not "raging".
I just don't want to bunk
with some creep
- with a half-shaved head, OK?
- That's it. You're grounded.
- Grounded?
- Grounded with no pudding.
Connie, it's fine, really.
- I know what's wrong with Kev.
- You do?
Sure. It's obvious.
Hey, new guy, do me a favor,
don't call me Kev.
You've been here, like,
five minutes.
Zip it, mister, right now.
Look, I don't mean
to be forward, but, um...
I noticed that there wasn't any
family prayer prior to the meal.
Is that common?
Well, yeah, I guess.
OK, well, would you mind
if I, uh...
led us in a, a prayer
just a, just a simple...
Uh, of course not.
Thank you.
- We'd be honored.
- (Norm) Sure. Great.
All right, everybody, grab hands.
Grab hands, OK?
- Kevin.
- (Sighs)
Dear Lord, we thank you for this bountiful
and nourishing meal on the table before us.
May it strengthen and refresh
our earth bodies
so that we may follow your
example for yet another day.
Please bless Connie,
who has prepared this feast
with loving hands,
as well as her life partner,
Norman, who invites you
into his heart
and hopes to one day
be called to Tanzania
where he can make a difference.
And please bless Patty,
whose kindness and hospitality
has allowed me
into this home
where I can spread your
wisdom amongst these souls.
And please, bless
and watch over Kevin,
who especially needs
your guidance
during his rebellious years,
as he continues to lash out
and alienate himself
from those around him.
Allow him to grow in grace
and knowledge of you,
and guide him in his search
for his birth parents,
who must one day hope
to see his face,
just as he longs
to see theirs.
- Wait, what?
- In Jesus' name, we pray.
- Mom?
- Uh...
Amen.
(Distant yelling)
Sorry my room is a pig sty.
Your family gives me
a fuckin' migraine.
I've never seen Kev
break down like that.
I feel bad for him.
Look, it's about time somebody
got straight with him.
I mean, Jesus Christ.
When were they gonna fuckin' tell him,
on their death beds?
(Chuckles)
You want a zinger?
No, thanks.
I've got my own.
- Oh?
- Mm-hm.
I'm on five different medications.
Jesus fucking Christ.
You want to listen
to some records?
Knock yourself out.
Thanks for including me
in your prayer.
I thought that was sweet.
You actually bought that shit?
Bought what?
That church bullshit?
You mean you told a lie?
Yeah.
Why would you lie
about Tanzania?
Fuck Tanzania.
Look, I needed a place
to hole up.
- Your house is perfect.
- Why is it perfect?
Because nobody'll look
for me here.
- Like those policemen?
- Yeah.
Well, why were they
looking for you?
Because I like to burn shit.
(Lighter clinks)
You wouldn't burn
our house down, would you?
No. Fuck that.
Come on, I wouldn't pull
any weak shit like that.
(Exhales)
Hey, remember when you said
that you owed me one?
Yeah, cos it was,
like, an hour ago.
Well, I know what I want.
All right, hit me.
I want you to take me
to The Alliance concert on Friday night.
You would.
Bunch of fuckin' posers.
Yeah, but PSYOPS is opening for them,
and they're my favorite band.
There is no fucking way
PSYOPS would play a show
with a band like The Alliance.
(Chuckles)
No, it's true!
Some kid was handing out flyers
downtown a few days ago.
What the fuck is this?
How the fuck did you know
about PSYOPS?
(Punk rock music playing)
Well, my friends Sissy and Karen
turned me onto them.
I've got all their seven inches,
all their cassettes.
- Every one.
- No, you don't.
Look!
I even had to make a dub
of "Dinner In America"
because my Boombox
chewed up the original.
Mom and Dad
Conversations
that make you sad
A lot of talking
and endless dread
Just shove it
in and off to bed...
Oh, I love John Q.
He's my favorite of my favorites!
Knock it off.
Knock it off.
You're getting yourself all worked up.
You know, John Q. wears a ski mask
when they play.
Yeah, everybody fuckin' knows that.
Will you knock it off?
Stop flailing around!
It's so cool.
It's like, it's top secret.
- You wanna know my secret?
- No.
Oh, come on.
It's a good one.
I don't give a shit.
I write John Q. love letters.
What the fuck
are you talking about?
Well, they're more like poems.
Love poems.
- Dinner in America...
- I write him one every week.
Oh, my God. I can't believe
I just told you that.
Is that weird?
Do you think I'm weird?
(Punk rock music continues playing)
Where's your fuckin' bathroom?
(Breathes heavily)
(Knocking on door)
(Patty) Simon?
Are you doing a number two?
Because, um... if you need
some extra toilet tissues,
I can grab some for you
from the closet in the hall.
(Panting)
(Police radio chattering)
Which one of you cunts
set this up?
- He did.
- Fuckin"...
- (Lou) Hey, hey, you pricks!
- Get the fuck off me, Simon!
I'm about to call the cops.
Shove it up your ass, Lou!
You're always about
to call the fuckin' cops.
I'm serious! You order something
or take a fuckin' hike!
- Then I demand a cup of coffee!
- Coffee?
Does this look
like a men's shelter?
You order something
off the dinner menu!
Jesus fucking Christ, Lou!
Just get the coffee!
Lady, you mind
your own fuckin' business,
and you and me,
we're gonna get along fine.
The Alliance?
You assholes wanna play eyeliner punk
for a bunch of 14-year-old girls?
Fuck, man. Someone's gotta
call the shots when you're MIA.
MIA? How about gettin' scratch
for our next record, Seth?
Feel free to chip in at any point.
- So you got the money?
- I don't wanna fuckin' talk about it.
You junkie fuck!
You spent it all on dope, huh?
You better reel him the fuck in.
- What a load of shit!
- What a load of shit?
You're a load of shit, Morgan!
In the last four months,
you've kicked in, what, 50 bucks
and that piece of shit PA head?
Fuck you!
That PA is 300 watts.
Fuck you!
Fuck your 300 watts, OK?
Fuck all of you!
I'm the one floating
this whole operation.
Do you know how much blood
I need to give
to the fuckin' vampires
at the lab
just to get our masters
out of this hostage situation?
Yeah. Everyone just calm
the fuck down.
- No. Why don't you calm the fuck down?
- Yeah?
We still gotta do the jackets,
press the fuckin' vinyl.
That's another three grand.
Look, Eddie Sorvino
called me last week, OK?
Monty played him the Majestic Twelve
session, and he fucking flipped.
- That's how this whole thing started.
- Shut the fuck up, Morgan!
He wants us to play this gig
with The Alliance, OK?
See if we're a good fit,
feel us out.
If the band likes us,
we're in for the last leg of the tour.
"If the band likes us?"
Plus he said he'd cover our dupes
and get us square with Monty.
Sorvino knows we're good.
He thinks we can go places.
Go places?
We're not fuckin' sailors.
We're a punk rock band.
Hey, asshole! This could be
our big fucking break, OK?
Our big break? What the fuck
are you talking about?
Look, you guys
want to play puppet show
on Eddie Sorvino's
little circus tour,
go right ahead, but leave me
the fuck out of it.
- How about we vote on it?
- It's not a democracy.
I vote we play
the fucking show.
Me too.
What about you, Donovan?
Yeah, Donnie.
What about you?
Fucking Christ,
I thought we went over this?
- What's with you?
- Quaaludes.
(Laughing)
That's a good boy.
You don't want to play
to a sea of cellphones, do ya?
Bunch of pussies
doing the stand and stare.
That's not what music is, is it?
No.
Goddamn it, lady!
Go back to your shrimp basket,
mind your own fuckin' business!
That's it!
All you punks out!
Now! Move!
Take the scarecrow with ya.
So why the fuck did you guys cancel
the secret show on Friday?
Cos we want to save your juice
for The Alliance gig.
Stop talking about it
like it's fuckin' happenin'.
It's making me nauseous.
You assholes get the show back on
or we're fuckin' done!
I'll call you Friday at noon.
Yo, the heat came
by the lockout again.
They got a real hard-on
for you, man.
Yeah? And what the fuck
did you tell them, Morgan?
Same old, same old,
that we only know you as John Q.
We said you quit,
but I don't think they bought it.
You're in some deep shit, Simon.
Check this out.
They upped the reward.
(Chuckles) 5,000 bucks? Damn!
They said you assaulted some lady.
Tried to burn her house down?
That's fuckin' bullshit.
They've been using this crummy
sketch for two years.
At least they don't have
your real name.
Yeah, except now
they're on to me.
How do you know?
Because there was
an unmarked squad car
outside one of my crash pads,
that's how I know,
which means
somebody fucking narced.
- Don't look at me!
- I am lookin' at you.
Hey, hey. Cool it, man.
He didn't say shit!
Man, how the fuck do you know?
I don't fuckin' trust
anybody right now!
Come on.
Don't be paranoid.
- You need a new place to crash?
- Not with you assholes.
You want the keys
to the van then?
No. I'm set.
You're sure?
Man, you wouldn't believe me
even if I told you.
(Electronic music)
(Beer can opens)
(Screaming)
(Grunts)
Fucking cool it, rager!
- Fuck!
- You ruined everything!
Calm down or I'm gonna
fuckin' pop you!
Get off me!
You wasted my fucking tall boy.
I hate you!
You know, you've got it
pretty fuckin' good here
for an adopted kid, so you
better quit your bitchin'.
Look at that bunkbed.
It's fuckin' tits.
You got a keyboard.
And what the fuck are those?
- Hmm? Gerbils?
- Guinea pigs, asshole!
Whatever.
You know, your fuckin' problem
isn't that you're adopted,
it's that you're uptight.
I mean, fuck, kid, what, do you
need some weed or somethin'?
(Grunts)
You mean marijuana?
(Electronic music)
(Coughing continues)
You all right?
(Laughs)
How am I supposed to know
when that kicks in?
Let me see those globes.
Oh, yeah.
You're fuckin' pie-eyed, buddy.
- Huh?
- You're baked.
- Right now?
- Yeah.
- You know how I can tell?
- How?
I'm not sensing any hostility
comin' offa you.
- That's weird. Right?
- Hm-hm.
Look, do you want a little advice?
Sure.
You should be smokin' a gram
of that shit every day.
- Won't I get hooked?
- Hopefully.
(Laughs)
Look, I'mma set you up
with a quarter,
and then I'm gonna teach ya how
to roll a nice, tight bomber.
Aw, thanks.
Hey, did you turn the crickets up?
(Chuckles)
Don't worry about the crickets.
Yeah, you know,
I think I'm stoned.
Yeah, you're really
fuckin' stoned.
That shit burned out a minute ago
and you're still taking hits off of it.
(Footsteps approaching)
Hey.
Hey.
Where is everybody?
Dad's at the office,
Mom took Kevin to high school.
Hm.
(Inhales)
You got any coffee left?
It's cold.
I'm not supposed to have
anything turned on
when I'm alone at the house.
What are you doin'?
I am looking for my purpose.
Your purpose?
Mom says I need to find my purpose
now that I lost my job at The Pet Zone.
Look, she circled
all the good ones.
Let me see that.
Dishwasher?
That's a shit job.
Yeah, that's what I said,
but then Dad said that maybe
I could work my way up
to the prep table.
Oh, my God.
That's so fuckin' bleak,
it's makin' me lightheaded.
Table washer at the food court
in the mall?
God, that coffee taste like shit.
(Sighs)
It's Sanka.
(Mug shatters)
- You got any scratch?
- Huh?
(Lighter flicks)
- Money?
- (Scoffs) Nope.
Mr. Hanley still owes me
for two weeks.
That motherfucker never cut you
a check after he fired you?
- Mm-mm.
- (Lighter clinks)
Well, we're gonna pay him
a little visit today.
And then afterwards,
I'm gonna let you buy me lunch.
Hey, can we shoot hoops first?
(Electronic music)
(Gasping)
Dang!
You're good at basketball!
What do you say
we play H-O-R-S-E?
What do you say
we play F-U-C-K instead?
You ever played F-U-C-K before?
Here's my spot, OK?
How come you clam up
whenever I talk about fuckin'?
You ever make it with a guy?
(Basketball bounces)
Woohoo!
Your turn.
All right, how 'bout this?
If I make this shot,
then you give me a kiss.
A tongue Kiss.
OK.
Yeah?
Yeah.
(Clicks tongue)
What the fuck?
Hey, you got a dead cat here.
Yeah. It's been there
since Monday.
So why the fuck don't you
bury it or something?
I don't know. I've just been,
like, watching it.
- Why?
- I don't know.
That's some creepy shit.
- It is?
- Yeah.
That's like serial killer shit.
- It is?
- Yeah.
Do you think I'm weird?
Oh, yeah.
No, you're fuckin' weird.
- Well, is weird cool?
- In your case, no.
- Well, do you think I'm cool?
- I just said no.
Huh?
I'm fuckin' with you again.
Let's go!
(Electronic music)
So how much
does this hand job owe you?
Like, 400 bucks.
What if I told you
I could double that in a day?
- How?
- Magic.
Like, real magic?
Shit, it's the pigs.
- Well, here comes the 113.
- Don't look.
(Brakes hiss)
Go.
What the...
one fuckin' step, come on!
Shit!
- I'm gonna run.
- No.
They'll catch you.
Cops are fast.
They parked on the other side
of the street.
What are they doin'?
Looks like
they're eating burritos.
Hey, fuckpie.
You here for the deuce?
Oh, she's ready to fuck, D.
All hot and bothered.
Just check out
her candy-apple cheeks.
(Chomps teeth)
What the fuck?
Hey, this seat-sniffer
pervin' on you, retard?
No, he's my boyfriend.
That so?
I'm not her boyfriend.
(Laughing)
- Retard's got a boyfriend.
- Apparently, this faggot here.
Shut the fuck up.
Don't call her a retard.
Can you believe this faggot?
Yeah, he's got a faggot mouth
on him, too.
That's an awful lot of faggot
talk comin' from two guys
that look like they're made
for a Russian circle jerk.
Oh, you're dissing
our tracksuits, faggot?
Yeah. I'm dissing
your motherfuckin' tracksuits.
- (Bell rings)
- (Automated voice) 'Stop requested.'
(Grunting)
That's what I thought, bitch.
All you punk faggots got a lot of lip,
but you can't back it up.
Hey, come on, D.
We're gonna be late for practice.
(Hocking)
I hope he's got a decent cock, retard,
cos he can't fight for shit.
We're still free after practice
if you wanna fuck.
(Bus door closes)
(Electronic music)
Where are we going?
Slow down!
My legs aren't as long as yours.
(Door chime rings)
I'll give you
everything in my pocket
if you let me borrow
your truck for an hour.
Far out, man.
Shit, keep her all weekend.
Toss me that mini bat, too.
(Engine revs)
(Tires screeching)
Buckle up!
I drive fuckin' nuts!
- It feels like we're on TV!
- This ain't fuckin' TV!
(Tires screeching)
Why are we at my house?
Get your Polaroid, a trash bag
and meet me out back.
(Electronic music)
(Grunts)
- (Groaning)
- Twist it up.
Let's go.
(Simon) What are they doin'?
It's like they're warming up.
And stretching.
Show 'em your tits.
- Huh?
- Lift up your shirt.
- No.
- Just do it.
Whoa!
Check it.
(Chuckles)
- Dude!
- Oh, my God!
Hey, hey!
Where the fuck
are you douchebags goin'?
Uh, we'll be right back, Coach.
We gotta take care of something.
Yeah.
(Derrick laughs)
- They're coming!
- Good.
Lay down
on those tackle dummies.
- Why?
- Trust me.
No, on your tummy.
Turn around.
Try to look provocative.
(Patty) Huh?
Oh. Oh, yeah.
Dude, I told you she was in heat.
Go.
Let's double stuff this tard.
(Derrick) Ah, fuck yeah.
(Grunting)
- Now what?
- Strip 'em.
Dump it right in the middle
of this shit fuckin' sandwich.
(Gags)
(Polaroid whirs)
- Coach?
- Huh?
I think the equipment shed
is on fire.
Holy shit.
(Polaroid whirs)
Hold this.
Wake up, cat fuckers!
Come here.
It's a little memento.
You ever call her a retard again,
and this bitch is gonna haunt you
for the rest of your fuckin' life.
(Breathes heavily)
(Laughs) Catfuckers!
Let's beat it.
(Laughs)
Come on! Let's go!
Woohoo!
(Patty giggles)
- (Gasping)
- (Screaming)
Fucking' punk!
What in the fuck is going on?
Jesus fuck!
Get up!
Get up!
- (Yelling)
- (Laughing)
- Fuck, yeah!
- Fuck those jock assholes!
Oh, my God!
That was just like TV!
Man, fuck TV!
That was some raw ass shit!
- Simon?
- Yeah?
- Are we going to jail?
- Probably.
(Door chime rings)
Welcome to Pet Zone.
How may I assist you today?
- What are you doing here?
- What do you mean?
Why are you working here?
Uh... I don't know
what you mean.
Where's your smock?
Why are you putting stickers
on the cat food?
- Mr. Hanley?
- (Mr. Hanley) Yes?
Mr. Hanley, what...
what is she doing here?
You said that you were going back
to cleaning out the cages yourself
because Michigan
was raising the minimum wage.
Look, Patty, you're a nice
enough kid and all,
but let's face it,
you're a little slow.
Too slow for what,
this crummy ass pet store?
Where's her fuckin' check?
Rebecca, why don't you, uh...
head back to the grooming
station and take your break.
Uh-uh. Don't you listen
to this geezer.
- I want you to stay put.
- It's OK.
Why do you keep
fuckin' lookin' at her?
(Sticker gun clicks)
I am not slow, Mr. Hanley,
and I know where everything in
this store is better than you!
And especially her!
Where's the goddamn paycheck?
I told Patty I'd put it in the mail
at the end of the week.
- It is the end of the week!
- I want my motherfucking check!
(Both yelling)
(Hawaiian music)
- You know what you want?
- I'll have the Hawaiian.
Hawaiian, huh?
It has a pineapple ring
and a slice of ham on top.
What kind of sauce?
Hm, I don't know.
Hey, what kind of sauce
comes on the Hawaiian?
Like, a honey glaze.
All right,
two Hawaiian sandwiches.
You want some
of my Jimbo fries?
Yeah, all right.
- So, is this, like, a date?
- Hmm?
Are we on a date?
No, this is a shitty lunch.
Besides, I thought you
were in love with John Q.
Yeah, but he's not real.
He's just my music boyfriend.
Well, I'm gonna take you
to see PSYOPS tomorrow night.
You're gonna see
your music boyfriend.
Well, is that a date?
Yeah, it's a date.
Simon?
You can kiss me now.
It's OK.
I want you to.
(Electronic music)
You can fuck off now.
(Patty laughs)
You're a real good kisser.
(Chuckles)
Seriously.
I would not have guessed that.
- Thanks.
- (Grunts)
I guess all my practice
with Kevin really pays off.
What?
Well, he's not
my real brother. Duh.
He's adopted.
I'm just fucking with you.
(Laughs)
You need to take it
down a notch.
(Laughs)
You need to take it
down a notch.
And you! You need to take it
down a notch, too.
(Patty laughs)
- So much for job hunting, huh?
- Fuck job hunting.
(Chuckles)
I'll drive you around tomorrow
in the truck.
Sweet.
- Hey, you wanna go fuck around?
- Yeah, sure.
You like Whack-a-Mole?
(MAC DEMARCO:
"My Kind of Woman")
Oh, baby
Oh, man
You're making my crazy
Really driving me mad
That's all right with me
It's really no fuss
As long as you're next to me
Just the two of us
You're my, my, my,
my kind of woman
My, oh my, what a girl
You're my, my, my,
my kind of woman
And I'm down
on my hands and knees
Begging you please,
baby, show me your world
Pick something out.
(Patty gasps)
I want him.
Wait in line.
Where are you going?
(Garage door opens)
(Patty) I hope Mom's not miffed
we missed dinner.
Thursday night
is always a big hit.
(Simon) What's Thursday?
(Patty) New England clam chowder.
(Simon laughs)
Fucking Christ.
Hey, Simon?
Yeah?
Thanks for, like, the best day ever.
(Electronic music)
I decided on a name for him.
What?
Chomby.
(Chuckles)
Chomby.
(Door opening)
(Laughs)
- You back for seconds, Kev?
- Hm?
That chowder
must've been tits, huh?
- Yo, what happened to your eye?
- Don't worry about it.
What are you doing?
Why aren't you wearing pants?
Oh, we should talk.
Things have gotten a little crazy.
Look, everything was OK
until Mom and Dad ate
some of Jill's brownies.
Wait a minute.
Who's Jill?
- Hey!
- Jill.
What's she doing here?
- She's shy.
- I'm not wearing pants.
Why is she not wearing pants?
Or underwear.
Kev, you sinking the pink?
Look, Simon,
you were totally right, man.
Everything changed for me
when I started smoking pot.
(Kev snorts)
- What's the pink?
- Vagina.
(Chef on TV)
'So, what we're gonna do
'is just whisk it all together,
'and you want to whisk it together
so that any of the... the cocoa powder
'and the cornstarch
all get mixed with the granulated...'
Hey, kids.
He's making toffee.
Dad?
Are you OK?
Oh, yeah.
How did the job hunt go?
Oh, I don't know, I...
I guess we'll see
if anyone calls.
Oh, don't they just hire you
if they like you?
Well, there were
multiple candidates.
Oh, hi, Simon.
What happened to your face?
I fell down the escalator
at the shopping mall.
Mm.
You should go to the freezer,
get the peas, put them on that eye.
Yeah, I can't.
Kev's guarding it like a hawk.
That's his turf now.
Oh. You know he has a girlfriend?
Yeah, I do. Jill.
She's a real peach.
Look, Mom, Simon's gonna take me
to a rock show on Friday night.
Oh, we talked about that.
We don't like rock concerts for her
because of the strobe lights.
There's not gonna be any
fuckin' strobe lights, Connie.
- You're thinking of a rave.
- What's that?
It's a bunch of drug addicts,
glowsticks, shit fuckin' music.
- Have you heard of the raves?
- Oh, yeah.
- Mom?
- What?
Why are you and Dad
not wearing any pants?
I'm not sure.
(Grunting)
(Punk rock music playing)
What the fuck
is going on in here?
Is this provocative?
I don't know what that is.
Kill that ghetto blaster,
will ya?
(Turns music off)
(Simon sighs)
Do you want to put your hands
inside my sweatpants?
(Chuckles)
Look, how about a raincheck, hm?
I don't even know
if I can get hard right now.
My face feels like
fuckin' hamburger.
(Sighs)
What do you got in that maraca?
- My EZ-Dose?
- Yeah.
Just my medications.
Well, hook me up
with Sunday and Monday.
I'm fuckin' dyin' here.
(Grunts)
(Gulps)
Fuck.
(Sighs)
Hey, Simon?
Mm-hm.
What's a raincheck?
(Birds chirping)
(Patty) Simon?
(Simon exhales)
Simon?
- Sim...
- (Gasps)
(Simon groaning)
You've gotta wake up.
You've been asleep for eleven hours.
Oh, fuck.
Those pills are lethal.
You blast those every day?
(Groans)
Can you drive me
to China Hut?
I've got an interview
in 30 minutes.
(Grunts)
All right.
(Groans)
(Electronic music)
Are we going in circles?
Cos that's the third time
I've seen those garden gnomes.
Why do you keep looking
at that house?
We're still going
job hunting, right?
Man, fuck job hunting.
Fuck China Hut.
Fuck America.
I mean, are you really excited
to clean dishes
in the back
of some shithole buffet?
Wait, what am I supposed to say
if someone answers the door?
I don't know, just say
you lost your dog.
Ask if they've seen it
in the garden or some shit.
- Yeah, but I don't have a dog.
- Yeah, I know.
It's just pretend.
Oh. OK.
Can the dog's name be Chomby?
Yeah.
(Doorbell rings)
Nobody is in here.
(Sighs)
(Lighter flicks)
You're not gonna burn
this house down, are you?
What? No.
I live here sometimes.
Holy smokes, a real trap set.
Can I play it?
Knock yourself out.
Yo.
Where?
Where and when's the show?
All right, don't be late.
You suck at drums.
(Laughs)
Yeah, I'm more of a singer.
You sing, huh?
Like what?
Oh, like, just, like,
little songs I hear in my head.
Hey, whose equipment is all this?
- It was mine.
- Really?
- Mm-hm.
- You could play all these?
Come here.
I want to tell you something.
Come here.
(Patty grunts)
Are you all right?
Yeah, I just hit my elbow a little...
- (Lighter flicks)
- ...and my ribs.
All right, listen.
(Exhales)
I'm John Q.
What?
I'm John Q. from PSYOPS.
You're not John Q.
Nobody knows who John Q. is.
Don't you think that maybe
John Q. knows who John Q. is?
(Laughs)
What?
(Laughs)
Close your eyes.
(Zipper unzips)
Close 'em.
(Laughs)
Open 'em.
(Chuckles)
Big deal.
Looks just like the one I had
for Toboggan Club.
Smell it.
(Sniffs)
Ugh.
It smells like the headphones
on the hearing van.
That's the sweat of every show
we've ever played
trapped in this fucker.
That's the smell
of rock and roll.
(Chuckles)
What?
You're still not convinced?
Oh, my God.
You are John Q.
That's fuckin' awkward, huh?
I mean, not as awkward
as beating off to a torso
on a cartoon bedspread
for two years, I guess.
You have any idea how worked up
those Polaroids got me?
Did you write all those?
Fuckin' A.
How?
I mean, you call them
love poems,
but they're really these...
these brilliant power pop songs.
I mean, they're fuckin' genius.
Do you have any idea
what you're doing?
Will you say something to me?
Are you all right?
(Electronic music)
No, leave it.
Violate me.
Fuck me.
(Breathing heavily)
(Headboard thumps)
(Giggles)
I think I want more violation.
(Chuckles)
I gotta save my juice.
Let's rock out.
OK, hit it.
It's rolling.
(Rock music playing)
I can't believe all that
only took, like, 20 minutes.
This one right here,
August 13th.
That was my favorite.
(Muffled rock music)
- You really want me to do this?
- Yeah.
Let's see what you got.
OK, can I have a kiss?
(Cassette tape rewinds)
(Rewinding stops)
(Plays cassette tape)
(Drumsticks clicking)
(Rock music playing)
I'm a watermelon
slammed into your driveway
Crack me open
so I feel the air inside me
Like a tongue-tongue
In my eardrum, dumb-dumb
Music boyfriend,
I'm your yum-yum
Call me and I'll come
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
Am I dreaming
or did you just kiss me?
You don't know it
but you already miss me
Like a tongue-tongue
In my eardrum, dumb-dumb
Music boyfriend,
I'm your yum-yum
Call me and I'll come
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
But us
But us
Fuck 'em all, but us
Fuck.
(Breathes shakily)
That was tits.
Is tits good?
Yeah. Yeah.
Tits is good.
(Chuckles)
Let's mix it.
(Cassette tape rewinds)
(Nancy) Simon?
(Footsteps approaching)
Yeah, Mom?
What's going on down here?
How did you get in?
With my key.
You're not supposed
to have a key.
Who's this?
This, um... is Patty.
We're recording a song.
How was Tanzania?
Tanzania?
Are you both on dope?
He's definitely on dope.
All right, back off, Renae.
I'm not on dope.
He totally is, Mom. I can tell.
He won't look at me.
He looks past me,
but not into my eyes
cos he doesn't want me
to see his eyes.
Jesus fucking Christ! Can we
just eat the fucking meal?
Don't talk like that
in front of my kids.
We learned about dope
in D.A.R.E.
Dopers share needles
and get AIDS.
Why are you here?
(Sighs)
Oh, it's nice
to see you too, Dad.
- Answer your father.
- If it's about money, no way.
Well, don't worry about it.
I'm not after your goddamn money.
There's an agenda, Mom.
There's always an agenda.
If I were you, I'd check
my jewelry box before he bails.
- Shut the fuck up, Renae!
- Strike two.
What is this?
What are you doin'?
- What is this?
- He's high, Mom.
Don't pay attention to him.
It's what he wants.
He feeds off it.
Uncle Simon
has dirty fingernails
like the dopers
in my D.A.R.E. book.
- (Door closes)
- (Danny) Hello?
Hey, sorry I'm late.
Why is the front door locked?
Oh.
What are you doin' here?
- Hi. I'm Danny.
- Hi.
- Did you give him your key?
- Yeah. So?
Why'd you do that?
You know he's not supposed
to be in here, right?
- Relax, Renae.
- I need to relax, Danny?
Poor Mom had to come home
and find these two
in the basement shooting up.
Oh, my God.
(Sighs)
- What's going on here?
- Nothing.
Nobody's shooting dope,
all right?
We were writing a song
in the basement.
I can't do this anymore!
Great, now Dad's upset.
Stop picking on Simon!
- Excuse me?
- You heard me.
You're all being mean!
He doesn't do dope.
He just ate Sunday and Monday
from my EZ-Dose
- because he got beat up.
- (Chuckles)
Mommy, what is she talking about?
I have no idea. I think she's
just as strung out as he is.
OK, you know what?
Leave her out of this.
Look, you seem
like a nice enough girl,
but I'm sure
he's got you brainwashed
or he's manipulating you
with drugs somehow.
Simon is a pathological liar.
He's a thief and a total pyro.
Hey, you know the cops have been
sniffing around for you?
Yeah.
They came by the office
and grilled me for a half hour.
Oh, God.
Oh, no.
It's OK, Mom.
He'll be gone soon.
What's a pyro again?
- A pyro's...
- Oh. Are you serious?
OK, you know what?
Knock it off! Knock it off!
- Not the sharpest stick, is she?
- Don't talk about her like that!
- Like what?
- Like she's subhuman,
and with that condescending
fucking tone!
All right!
That's three!
Yeah? What the fuck are you
gonna do about it, Allen?
Hey, hey, hey!
Hey, hey, hey!
- Come on, motherfucker!
- hey, hey, hey, stop!
- Here you go, come on.
- Let's go, big shot!
(Nancy screams)
Get out!
You ruin everything!
Just get out of here!
Come on.
(Truck engine hums)
So, what'd you think
of my family?
I like your brother, Danny.
Yeah, he's solid.
Simon?
Yeah?
Do you think I'm a retard?
(Tires screeching)
Don't you ever talk like that.
Ever.
You are not a retard.
You are a total punk rocker.
- I am?
- Yes.
You are punk as fuck.
Can we listen
to our song in here?
Fuck, yeah.
Pop that shit in the tape deck.
("Watermelon" playing)
Are we going on our date now?
Yeah, we're going
on our date now.
I'm a watermelon
slammed into your driveway...
- Simon?
- Hmm?
Remember when I told you that
yesterday was the best day ever?
Like a tongue-tongue...
Yeah.
Today is even better.
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
(Chattering)
(Electric guitar music)
What a fuckin' dump.
I mean that's, what, 40 people?
You call this a show?
It's punk rock, you dumb fuck.
(Laughs)
Hey, you watch your fuckin' mouth.
You have any idea
how many bands would kill
to play a show
with The Alliance?
I'm throwing you
a fuckin' bone, kid.
Yeah? Well, why don't you
take that bone
and shove it up
your fat fuckin' ass?
(Laughs)
What's with your boy?
How come I gotta fuckin' twist his arm
to play with the hottest band
out of New York?
Fuckin' hottest pile of shit
out of New York.
Oh, OK. So, so you're
gonna tell me what's hot?
Kid, I'm standing in the fuckin'
filthiest green room
I've ever seen in my life,
and you're about to play
next to a fuckin' Chevy Impala.
Yeah, well, nobody asked you
to fucking come.
- Actually, I did.
- You would.
Let's do this.
Troy says
we gotta be out by ten.
You're makin'
a huge fuckin' mistake.
These cocksuckers said you're playing,
and I'm holding you to it.
I sunk my own money
in this promotion.
Yeah?
That's not my fuckin' problem.
I booked it two weeks ago.
I'm makin' it your fuckin' problem.
How about this?
Fuck you!
Fuck your problems!
I'd rather fuck my own mom
than play with The Alliance.
- Let's go.
- Simon!
You cunts just made
my shit list.
This little fuck-up's gonna
cost me a lot of money.
What the fuck is this shit?
(Laughs)
(Crowd cheering)
You make the rules,
we break the rules
We do it our way
Rejects of society
and we are here to stay
Won't take your shit
no fucking more
Today is the day
Time has come
to give you some
Get out of my face
Shit that's flying
out of your mouth
I'm going insane
One more fucking
word from you
I'll kick you in the face
Have no respect
for your kind
You're cancer in my brain
We're paranoid,
it's justified
This is what we say
We won't obey
We won't, we won't obey
We won't, we won't obey
We won't, we won't obey
We won't obey
We won't obey
We won't obey
No
(Crowd cheering)
This next one is dedicated
to my music girlfriend.
(Cheering)
(Punk rock music)
Microwave it, shove it down
Too bad your food
is turning brown
Poison veggies
and plastic meat
Nothing real
for us to eat
Around the table,
Mom and Dad
Conversations
that make you sad
A lot of talking,
endless dread
Just shove it
in and off to bed
Dinnertime,
dinner in America
Dinnertime,
dinner in America
Dinnertime,
dinner in America
(Drums pounding)
(Sirens chirping)
Run!
(Percussive music)
Fuck you!
Fuck you!
How fucking unpunk is it,
turn me in on some
Crime Stoppers hotline?
Fucking bullshit!
- Motherfucker!
- Get in the car!
Wait, wait! Wait!
You can't take him!
He didn't do anything!
Hey, have fun in the nasty.
They're gonna crack your pelvis
like a softshell crab.
Hey.
- I got your cigarettes.
- Aw, that's fuckin' tits.
(Lighter flicks)
(Electronic music)
(Sighs)
Sorry about this shitty
fucking date.
(Chuckles)
It doesn't get much worse
than this.
It's OK. I'm just happy
I got to see you play.
I'm not gonna see you
for a while, huh?
- Hey, Simon?
- Yeah?
Remember when you dedicated the
song to your music girlfriend?
Mm-hm.
You were looking at me, right?
Yeah, I was lookin' at you.
I thought so.
Simon?
Yeah?
You're my real boyfriend now, right?
Yeah, I'm your real boyfriend.
(Police radio chattering)
(Car door opens)
(Officer) No contact.
Keep that cigarette
out of the prisoner's mouth.
(Car door closes)
Stay punk.
(Sissy) Patty?
I told you it was her.
Hey, Sissy. Hi, Karen.
Were you just totally
tongue-fucking John Q.
In the back of that cruiser?
Uh-huh.
He's my real boyfriend.
We're starting a riot girl band.
You wanna be in it?
Uh-huh.
(Coughing)
(Electronic music)
(Simon) 'Patty, thanks
for the care package.
'I almost cried
when I saw the earplugs.
'If Lloyd was at an eight
before, now he's at a two.'
(Grunting)
'Every now and then,
he hits a four.
'Gets himself whipped up into
a frenzy over Michelle McBride
'on the Action Five News.'
(Gasping)
(Grunting)
'There isn't shit to do here
but pump iron, write,
'and steer clear
of the shower sharks.
'Thanks for the notebook.
'I was down to my last one,
so the timing was tits.
'All insanity aside, I probably
generated enough material
'for ten albums
in this shithole.
'I hope Danny can drive you up
again for the holiday weekend.
'It's the only thing
I have to look forward to,
'even if we only get
half an hour.
'Trust me, I'm countin'
the fuckin' minutes.
'Your music boyfriend, Simon.
'PS: Thanks for taking care
of shit with Albert for me.
'Tell him Reggie's
peach cobbler is dynamite.
'For real, I think it saved my life.
'And you should see me.
I probably put on 15 pounds.'
(Polaroid whirs)
(Knocking on door)
(Cell door closes)
'I'm feeling so much stronger
'since I stopped eating
the shit they feed the animals.
'It's just too bad
you have to go to prison
'to get a decent
dinner in America.'
(Laughs)
What's so funny, retard?
Hey, horse face,
we're fucking talking to you.
- Is she fucking ignoring us?
- Are you ignoring us, retard?
(Gina) Maybe she's one
of those deaf mute retards.
Hey, are you one of those
deaf, mute retards?
(Bus bell rings)
(Automated voice)
'Stop requested.'
(Gasps)
You need to take it down a notch,
motherfucker!
(Electronic music)
("Watermelon" playing)
I'm a watermelon
slammed into your driveway
Crack me open
so I feel the air inside me
Like a tongue-tongue
In my eardrum, dumb-dumb
Music boyfriend,
I'm your yum-yum
Call me and I'll come
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
Am I dreaming
or did you just kiss me?
You don't know it
but you already miss me
Like a tongue-tongue
In my eardrum, dumb-dumb
Music boyfriend,
I'm your yum-yum
Call me and I'll come
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
But us
But us
Fuck 'em all, but us
(Eerie ambient music)
(Breathing heavily)
(Muffled chattering)
(Nurse) So, on a scale of one to ten,
ten being the strongest,
how are we doing on the nausea?
I'd say about... about an eleven.
(Nurse) You have
any ringing in your ears?
- (High-pitched ringing)
- Hm?
(Nurse) Any ringing or...
or buzzing of the ears?
You sound like you're underwater.
(Nurse) And any tingling sensations
in your fingertips or toes?
(Exhales)
In my mouth.
- (Nurse) You have tingling in your mouth?
- In my mouth.
(Nurse) Interesting.
You mind if I take a peek?
(Light buzzes)
(Cart clatters)
(Electronic music)
(Breathes heavily)
I bet you two wish
you were in Group A, huh?
(Electronic music continues)
Sorry it didn't work out.
You said $1,750.
It's $1,750 if you do all eight days.
- It's a new policy.
- New policy? Since when?
I was countin' on that scratch, man.
Sorry, kid. They're shaking things up
in Carpetland again.
The whole department's
getting the squeeze.
It's not like the glory days at CLR.
You know what?
Fuck Naltech!
Fuck this office!
Fuck you!
Fuck!
(Electronic music continues)
You got a smoke?
Yeah, sure.
I guess we both
got the boot, huh?
(Lighter flicks)
(Sighs)
I've been waiting 30 minutes
for the 151.
Fuckin' blows.
151 doesn't run on Sundays.
It's Sunday?
(Electronic music continues)
You wanna come home with me?
You know, Sunday dinner.
Mom always goes big.
I'll blow you too.
After dinner.
(Electronic music continues)
(Gulping)
(Exhales)
(Belches)
(Sighs)
Please don't look at me.
I'm not.
(Bill) Oh, Jesus Christ.
This sucks.
What's wrong with your hair?
What do you mean?
It's all shaved and stuff.
Hm.
Don't worry about it.
I like his hair.
What?
I do.
What's your name again?
Bill.
Do you hate me, Bill?
Nope.
Good.
Oh, no. Come on.
No, no!
- (Pounds table)
- No, no! Fuck!
Hit him!
Hit him!
Stomp him!
Come on!
Oh, that's lousy!
Every year, man.
I'm tellin' you...
I'm gonna go downstairs
and shower in a few minutes.
Why don't you come meet me?
(Bobby) It's fuckin' impossible.
It's impossible.
- Do you like football?
- (Bobby growls)
- They don't draft well.
- No.
(Bobby) Can't play defense,
they don't draft, they don't ski.
(Electronic music)
(Bill) Run!
- Run, you nigger!
- Run!
- (Bobby) Go, go, go!
- (Billy) Run, yeah!
(Cheering)
- There it is!
- Woohoo!
(Electronic music)
(Bobby) Ah!
That was awesome.
Did you see that shit?
That was awesome!
So you really like my hair?
Or are you just making conversation?
(Bill) Oh, yeah!
(ENGLAND DAN AND JOHN FORD
COLEY: "It's Sad to Belong")
Come on.
Dance with me.
I met you on a springtime day
- You were mindin'...
- Yeah?
And I was mindin' mine, too...
- Watch this.
- Lady, when you looked my way
I had a strange sensation
And, darlin',
that's when I knew
That it's sad to belong
to someone else
When the right one comes along
Yes, it's sad...
I'm really glad
you came to dinner.
When the right one comes along
Oh, I wake up in the night
And I reached beside me
Hopin' you will be there...
- Mom!
- (Gasps)
- What the fuck are you doing?
- (Record scratches)
Why? Goddamn it!
I hate you!
I hate you!
What the fuck is goin' on?
He was taking advantage of me.
She's tellin' stories, Bill.
That's the sauce talkin'.
Get the fuck out
of my house, pervert.
Get out!
Oh, I'll kill him, Daddy.
Get him!
(Electronic music)
(Screams)
Where you gonna go,
motherfucker?
You little pervert punk!
Come at me,
you fuckin' cocksucker!
(Bill) Oh, shit!
(Gasps)
My food!
No! My window!
You asshole!
You smashed my bay window!
He smashed our bay window!
Let's get him.
No, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Now watch the glass, Bobber.
(Gasping)
Call the cops!
Go on, call the cops!
(Electronic music)
Oh, crud.
(Boys laughing)
Nice save, cum-catcher.
Yeah, too bad Coach doesn't
have a bukkake team, retard,
you could probably get a full-ride.
Yeah, you could major in suckin' dick.
(Boys laughing)
No, leave it!
It's a good look for you.
Yeah, it gets me hard.
All that goo everywhere.
(Moans)
Are you gonna eat that?
Cos my dick is starving.
He didn't get enough calories
at breakfast this morning.
(Boys laugh)
Ah, fuck!
(Spits)
Where'd you get this dumb
fuckin' sandwich, retard?
You know it's a loser-ass sandwich, D.
There's just plain white paper
on the motherfucker.
Dude, tell me I didn't get some
of this shit on my tracksuit.
Oh, Coach would kill you, Derrick.
(Sighs)
I swear to God,
if any of this toxic waste
gets on my tracksuit,
I'm gonna track down
the Mexican who made it
and fucking kill his family!
God, fuck!
Let's fucking go.
(Mr. Hanley) Goddamn it!
One of these motherfuckers
shit all over the bedding.
Now they're all covered.
Patty!
Yes, Mr. Hanley?
Get a rag and some soapy water
and clean this up.
These fuckers gotta be
show quality
if we're gonna move 'em up
to the front window.
Like, hand soap
from the bathroom?
No, get some fuckin' shampoo!
We need 'em to shine!
Come on, move your ass!
(Breathes heavily)
(Slurps)
(Liquid splattering)
(Electronic music)
I'm gonna fuck you so hard
when we get back to Brando's.
Hey, look!
I think retard's jealous!
(Laughing)
What are you looking at,
you fucking dog?
(All barking)
(Insects buzzing)
(Coughing)
Oh, boy. That ground chuck
has a real kick to it.
Did you do something
different tonight?
- Take a sip of water, Norm.
- Oh.
Ahh.
That's a-spicy.
I don't know
what you're talking about.
You didn't spice it up
a little bit?
It's just a little cumin.
No more than the recipe
calls for.
Mom, what's cumin again?
Honey, let's not do this tonight.
Just eat your salad, please.
- Hey, um... shells are edible.
- Mm.
Anybody tried their shell yet?
And why are you not eating?
- Something happen at school?
- Mom, why are you doing this?
Why are you trying to pry, OK?
It's, like, pry, pry, pry with you.
No one's prying, Kev. Your mom
just asked you a question.
You need to take it down
a notch.
You are spazzing.
- Dad!
- Patty, cool it.
- So, how was school today?
- Oh, my God.
Is it always gonna be
an inquisition?
What did you do today?
Hmm?
You better tame that tone, mister.
I'm done.
May I be excused, please?
No, you may not.
You're gonna sit there with all of us,
eat your taco salad
and have dessert.
- I got a chocolate cake.
- (Chuckles)
Hey, Mom, can I go see a rock show
with Sissy and Karen on Friday?
Sissy and Karen?
That's a blast from the past.
I haven't heard you
talk about them
since you dropped out
of junior college.
What's the group?
Oh, they're this really cool
group from New York City.
They're, um...
really smart and stuff.
The music is almost educational.
What's the name of the group?
The Alliance.
Oh, I don't know.
That-that sounds pretty militant.
The Alliance?
I don't like the sound
of this New York militia music.
Come on, I never get
to do anything fun!
- (Fork clatters)
- Hey, you need to take it down a notch.
Shut the hell up, Kev!
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Watch the language.
All right?
Now, rock concerts are bad news.
Plus, we don't want you around
all those strobe lights.
That's true.
There's not gonna be
any strobe lights.
Hey, here's an idea.
Why don't you invite Sissy
and Karen over Friday night
and have a slumber party
like old times.
We can play Party Farm.
Dad can whip up
some homemade ice cream.
Hm-hm.
No one wants to play
that baby stuff anymore, Mom.
I'm 20 years old.
Now who's spazzing?
Kevin, shut the eff up!
OK, you really need
to take it down a notch.
(High-pitched screaming)
(Punk rock music playing)
Try to see me as I age
Things up there
with silent rage
Disgusted with this human race
Slightly narrowed in a daze
Cancer that controls your mind
The cancer
that consumes mankind
In a world so full of hate
Still it's just to procreate
No one listens,
no one will
And wastes,
you aren't as civilized
No match,
no conviction in their eyes
Fanatical religious right
Prayer with you
because you're white
Pro-white virgin,
now or never
Hold your breath,
hold your last breath...
(Breathes heavily)
See behind,
behind the crossing...
(Breathing heavily)
Get lost you hypocrite
We've had enough
of your bullshit...
(Breathing heavily)
No conviction in their eyes, no
(Breathing heavily)
Jesus Christ, lady.
It's a check,
not 100-dollar bill.
May I see
a second form of ID?
No, fuck you.
Don't be a cunt.
- What did you just say?
- You heard me the first time.
You're just not used
to anybody challenging
your fuckin' psychological warfare.
Now get my cash before I have
you fired for discrimination.
(Electronic music)
Are you trying
to buy some drugs?
Damn, this white boy
all business.
Yo, get away
from my fuckin' door.
Hey, keep these fuckin' kids
away from my door!
(Door closes)
(Sighs)
So my man, what you need?
Freestyle it.
- (Distant thudding)
- (Man) Don't do that shit!
(Muffled yelling)
Oh, check this shit out.
Some wigger kid offloaded
all this shit on me
for a pound of schwag.
Any of these motherfuckers
worth anything?
Yeah, this Neumann here.
You hit the jackpot.
Shit, man, make me an offer.
It's priced to scoot.
OK, cool.
Give me a week.
I gotta dump this shit.
All right.
Well, shit,
you wanna stick around?
- Smoke a joint?
- I can't.
It fucks with my motivation.
(Electronic music)
Are you fucking kidding me?
(Door chime rings)
I think I'm in love.
Would you look at this clam?
Man, I'm glad the bush
making a comeback.
Shit, it's about fuckin' time.
You might want
to check out page 69.
I think you'll be interested
in page 13.
My man.
You want a hot dog?
No.
Let me get a... let me get
two packs of Royals.
Royals?
Don't sweat, man.
What the fuck I care?
(Door chime rings)
Man, didn't I tell you not
to fucking come in here again?
Huh?
Come on.
Motherfucker!
(Door chime rings)
(Electronic music)
(Car alarm blaring)
(Electronic music)
(Electronic music)
(Police radio chattering)
(Lighter flicks)
(Tires screeching)
(Tires screeching)
(Door chime rings)
(Electronic music)
(Tires screech)
You seen anyone suspicious
running around back here?
(Police radio chattering)
You see this creep,
dial the number
at the bottom of the flyer.
(Police siren chirps)
I knew I recognized you.
You were in my Music Appreciation course
at the J.C. before I quit.
- Yeah?
- (Lighter flicks)
Professor Babcock
threw a stapler at you.
OK, yeah.
Your hair was longer then.
Like this.
But other than that,
you look the same.
You look the same too.
Thanks.
It's not really a compliment.
Where do you work,
the ice cream shop?
(Sighs)
I wish.
The Pet Zone next door.
So what are you doin' out here?
What, are you on break or somethin'?
Mr. Hanley just let me go.
What, like you got fired?
Well, Michigan's raising
the minimum wage,
so he's gonna go back to cleaning
the animal cages himself
until the economy
gets back on its feet.
Jesus Christ, that's what
he fuckin' told you?
Uh-huh.
So, I'm guessing that's not
chocolate chip on your smock.
You're funny.
Look, you got someplace
around here we can go?
Mm.
(Door clicking)
(Sighs)
(Lighter flicks)
You can't smoke in here.
My dad's allergic.
- (Inhales)
- Fuck your dad.
Is that your mom?
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
What, is she a bull dyke?
- What do you mean?
- I mean, does she eat pussy?
You see, the haircut
gives it away.
It makes her look like
a real pro muff-diver.
(Inhales)
Is that your brother?
- Yeah, that's Kevin.
- Oh.
He looks like a faggot.
Well, he's not homosexual.
Yeah, I'm sure
he just looks queer.
You the oldest?
Yeah.
Kevin's adopted.
No shit?
Imagine that.
The old barren bull dyke
adopting a little fag kid
just doing her part
for society and shit.
Come on.
(Electronic music)
You want something to drink?
Sure, what do you got?
Water, ice tea,
cherry juice box...
That's a pretty
weak-ass selection.
- How 'bout a couple of beers?
- Sorry, Dad's allergic.
To cigarette smoke
and alcohol?
Yeah.
Jesus fuckin' Christ.
How does he cope?
What do you mean?
I mean, how does he cope
in this loser fuckin' family
without some kind of vice?
What's a vice again?
You know,
I can't figure you out.
You got shit for brains
and zero personality,
but you lose those glasses
and that shit-peppered smock,
hell, I could probably
get hard.
You know I'm fuckin'
with you, right?
(Slurps)
Take off your glasses.
Let your hair down.
Shake it out.
Now take off
that stupid fuckin' smock.
Why did you bring me
to your house?
I don't know.
Bullshit.
I think you know exactly
why you brought me here.
You got a boyfriend?
No.
Girlfriend?
No.
I don't give a shit if you
suck pussy like your mom.
I got a thing for dyke bitches.
No, I'm not homosexual.
(Chuckles)
You know I'm still
fuckin' with you, right?
(Chuckles)
You need
to take it down a notch.
What is that supposed to mean?
(Chuckles)
Look, I owe you one.
You name it.
Deal?
Think about it.
(Door opens)
- (Connie) Patty?
- That's my mom.
I could use your help
with the grocery bags, please.
Oh, my.
(Coughing)
Mm.
That is fuckin' delicious, Connie.
Thank you.
- I was half starved.
- Dad, he just...
You're gonna let him get away
with that F-bomb?
(Sneezes)
- Quiet, Kev.
- Yeah. Quiet, Kev.
- Shut up, retard.
- That's enough, Kevin.
- What do you call this again?
- Chicken cordon bleu.
It's fantastic.
Well, it was frozen.
It's not like she made it herself, so...
Tame that tone, Kev.
You're on thin ice!
Kevin, you're at an eight,
and you need to be at about a three.
I'm sorry.
He's usually not so aggressive.
It's fine. It's fine.
I'm just not used
to cooking of this caliber.
You see, in Africa
our rations are very meager.
- Africa?
- My parents are missionaries.
We've, uh... spent the last three years
building churches in Tanzania.
Oh, my.
If you survived on a diet of ugali
and, uh, sweet potatoes for three years,
you'd understand why I'm so ecstatic
about your mom's cordon bleu.
- What's ugali?
- Don't worry about it.
(Sneezes)
- So what's with the haircut?
- Stop prying.
Stop frothing.
Another word and you both
can forget about dessert.
You know, there's no dessert
in Tanzania.
You know, I've always dreamed
of doing missionary work.
Uh... seeing the world
or really making a difference.
Well, you know, nothing's,
uh... nothing's stopping you
from enlisting
on Team Jesus, Norm.
In fact, I'm rounding up a fresh batch
of apostles as we speak.
Oh, well, uh, uh...
(Chuckling)
I was thinking more down the line,
you know, after I retire.
It's good to have a purpose.
But if there's any
other way we can help...
Actually, um... I'm in need
of a host family for the week.
I beg your pardon?
He's looking
for somewhere to stay, Norm.
Oh!
You see, when we moved to Tanzania,
my parents, they sold the house.
They donated the money
to the church.
Our, uh... regular
host family's out of town,
so I've been sleeping
on the couch in the church
for the past two nights.
He can stay in Kevin's room
on the top bunk.
No frickin' way!
Take it down a notch, Kev.
- What do you think?
- (Sneezes)
Yeah, I have no problem with it.
I'm happy to help.
- (Sniffs)
- (Fork clatters)
This blows!
Don't get a say?
What's with all the hostility, rager?
I'm not "raging".
I just don't want to bunk
with some creep
- with a half-shaved head, OK?
- That's it. You're grounded.
- Grounded?
- Grounded with no pudding.
Connie, it's fine, really.
- I know what's wrong with Kev.
- You do?
Sure. It's obvious.
Hey, new guy, do me a favor,
don't call me Kev.
You've been here, like,
five minutes.
Zip it, mister, right now.
Look, I don't mean
to be forward, but, um...
I noticed that there wasn't any
family prayer prior to the meal.
Is that common?
Well, yeah, I guess.
OK, well, would you mind
if I, uh...
led us in a, a prayer
just a, just a simple...
Uh, of course not.
Thank you.
- We'd be honored.
- (Norm) Sure. Great.
All right, everybody, grab hands.
Grab hands, OK?
- Kevin.
- (Sighs)
Dear Lord, we thank you for this bountiful
and nourishing meal on the table before us.
May it strengthen and refresh
our earth bodies
so that we may follow your
example for yet another day.
Please bless Connie,
who has prepared this feast
with loving hands,
as well as her life partner,
Norman, who invites you
into his heart
and hopes to one day
be called to Tanzania
where he can make a difference.
And please bless Patty,
whose kindness and hospitality
has allowed me
into this home
where I can spread your
wisdom amongst these souls.
And please, bless
and watch over Kevin,
who especially needs
your guidance
during his rebellious years,
as he continues to lash out
and alienate himself
from those around him.
Allow him to grow in grace
and knowledge of you,
and guide him in his search
for his birth parents,
who must one day hope
to see his face,
just as he longs
to see theirs.
- Wait, what?
- In Jesus' name, we pray.
- Mom?
- Uh...
Amen.
(Distant yelling)
Sorry my room is a pig sty.
Your family gives me
a fuckin' migraine.
I've never seen Kev
break down like that.
I feel bad for him.
Look, it's about time somebody
got straight with him.
I mean, Jesus Christ.
When were they gonna fuckin' tell him,
on their death beds?
(Chuckles)
You want a zinger?
No, thanks.
I've got my own.
- Oh?
- Mm-hm.
I'm on five different medications.
Jesus fucking Christ.
You want to listen
to some records?
Knock yourself out.
Thanks for including me
in your prayer.
I thought that was sweet.
You actually bought that shit?
Bought what?
That church bullshit?
You mean you told a lie?
Yeah.
Why would you lie
about Tanzania?
Fuck Tanzania.
Look, I needed a place
to hole up.
- Your house is perfect.
- Why is it perfect?
Because nobody'll look
for me here.
- Like those policemen?
- Yeah.
Well, why were they
looking for you?
Because I like to burn shit.
(Lighter clinks)
You wouldn't burn
our house down, would you?
No. Fuck that.
Come on, I wouldn't pull
any weak shit like that.
(Exhales)
Hey, remember when you said
that you owed me one?
Yeah, cos it was,
like, an hour ago.
Well, I know what I want.
All right, hit me.
I want you to take me
to The Alliance concert on Friday night.
You would.
Bunch of fuckin' posers.
Yeah, but PSYOPS is opening for them,
and they're my favorite band.
There is no fucking way
PSYOPS would play a show
with a band like The Alliance.
(Chuckles)
No, it's true!
Some kid was handing out flyers
downtown a few days ago.
What the fuck is this?
How the fuck did you know
about PSYOPS?
(Punk rock music playing)
Well, my friends Sissy and Karen
turned me onto them.
I've got all their seven inches,
all their cassettes.
- Every one.
- No, you don't.
Look!
I even had to make a dub
of "Dinner In America"
because my Boombox
chewed up the original.
Mom and Dad
Conversations
that make you sad
A lot of talking
and endless dread
Just shove it
in and off to bed...
Oh, I love John Q.
He's my favorite of my favorites!
Knock it off.
Knock it off.
You're getting yourself all worked up.
You know, John Q. wears a ski mask
when they play.
Yeah, everybody fuckin' knows that.
Will you knock it off?
Stop flailing around!
It's so cool.
It's like, it's top secret.
- You wanna know my secret?
- No.
Oh, come on.
It's a good one.
I don't give a shit.
I write John Q. love letters.
What the fuck
are you talking about?
Well, they're more like poems.
Love poems.
- Dinner in America...
- I write him one every week.
Oh, my God. I can't believe
I just told you that.
Is that weird?
Do you think I'm weird?
(Punk rock music continues playing)
Where's your fuckin' bathroom?
(Breathes heavily)
(Knocking on door)
(Patty) Simon?
Are you doing a number two?
Because, um... if you need
some extra toilet tissues,
I can grab some for you
from the closet in the hall.
(Panting)
(Police radio chattering)
Which one of you cunts
set this up?
- He did.
- Fuckin"...
- (Lou) Hey, hey, you pricks!
- Get the fuck off me, Simon!
I'm about to call the cops.
Shove it up your ass, Lou!
You're always about
to call the fuckin' cops.
I'm serious! You order something
or take a fuckin' hike!
- Then I demand a cup of coffee!
- Coffee?
Does this look
like a men's shelter?
You order something
off the dinner menu!
Jesus fucking Christ, Lou!
Just get the coffee!
Lady, you mind
your own fuckin' business,
and you and me,
we're gonna get along fine.
The Alliance?
You assholes wanna play eyeliner punk
for a bunch of 14-year-old girls?
Fuck, man. Someone's gotta
call the shots when you're MIA.
MIA? How about gettin' scratch
for our next record, Seth?
Feel free to chip in at any point.
- So you got the money?
- I don't wanna fuckin' talk about it.
You junkie fuck!
You spent it all on dope, huh?
You better reel him the fuck in.
- What a load of shit!
- What a load of shit?
You're a load of shit, Morgan!
In the last four months,
you've kicked in, what, 50 bucks
and that piece of shit PA head?
Fuck you!
That PA is 300 watts.
Fuck you!
Fuck your 300 watts, OK?
Fuck all of you!
I'm the one floating
this whole operation.
Do you know how much blood
I need to give
to the fuckin' vampires
at the lab
just to get our masters
out of this hostage situation?
Yeah. Everyone just calm
the fuck down.
- No. Why don't you calm the fuck down?
- Yeah?
We still gotta do the jackets,
press the fuckin' vinyl.
That's another three grand.
Look, Eddie Sorvino
called me last week, OK?
Monty played him the Majestic Twelve
session, and he fucking flipped.
- That's how this whole thing started.
- Shut the fuck up, Morgan!
He wants us to play this gig
with The Alliance, OK?
See if we're a good fit,
feel us out.
If the band likes us,
we're in for the last leg of the tour.
"If the band likes us?"
Plus he said he'd cover our dupes
and get us square with Monty.
Sorvino knows we're good.
He thinks we can go places.
Go places?
We're not fuckin' sailors.
We're a punk rock band.
Hey, asshole! This could be
our big fucking break, OK?
Our big break? What the fuck
are you talking about?
Look, you guys
want to play puppet show
on Eddie Sorvino's
little circus tour,
go right ahead, but leave me
the fuck out of it.
- How about we vote on it?
- It's not a democracy.
I vote we play
the fucking show.
Me too.
What about you, Donovan?
Yeah, Donnie.
What about you?
Fucking Christ,
I thought we went over this?
- What's with you?
- Quaaludes.
(Laughing)
That's a good boy.
You don't want to play
to a sea of cellphones, do ya?
Bunch of pussies
doing the stand and stare.
That's not what music is, is it?
No.
Goddamn it, lady!
Go back to your shrimp basket,
mind your own fuckin' business!
That's it!
All you punks out!
Now! Move!
Take the scarecrow with ya.
So why the fuck did you guys cancel
the secret show on Friday?
Cos we want to save your juice
for The Alliance gig.
Stop talking about it
like it's fuckin' happenin'.
It's making me nauseous.
You assholes get the show back on
or we're fuckin' done!
I'll call you Friday at noon.
Yo, the heat came
by the lockout again.
They got a real hard-on
for you, man.
Yeah? And what the fuck
did you tell them, Morgan?
Same old, same old,
that we only know you as John Q.
We said you quit,
but I don't think they bought it.
You're in some deep shit, Simon.
Check this out.
They upped the reward.
(Chuckles) 5,000 bucks? Damn!
They said you assaulted some lady.
Tried to burn her house down?
That's fuckin' bullshit.
They've been using this crummy
sketch for two years.
At least they don't have
your real name.
Yeah, except now
they're on to me.
How do you know?
Because there was
an unmarked squad car
outside one of my crash pads,
that's how I know,
which means
somebody fucking narced.
- Don't look at me!
- I am lookin' at you.
Hey, hey. Cool it, man.
He didn't say shit!
Man, how the fuck do you know?
I don't fuckin' trust
anybody right now!
Come on.
Don't be paranoid.
- You need a new place to crash?
- Not with you assholes.
You want the keys
to the van then?
No. I'm set.
You're sure?
Man, you wouldn't believe me
even if I told you.
(Electronic music)
(Beer can opens)
(Screaming)
(Grunts)
Fucking cool it, rager!
- Fuck!
- You ruined everything!
Calm down or I'm gonna
fuckin' pop you!
Get off me!
You wasted my fucking tall boy.
I hate you!
You know, you've got it
pretty fuckin' good here
for an adopted kid, so you
better quit your bitchin'.
Look at that bunkbed.
It's fuckin' tits.
You got a keyboard.
And what the fuck are those?
- Hmm? Gerbils?
- Guinea pigs, asshole!
Whatever.
You know, your fuckin' problem
isn't that you're adopted,
it's that you're uptight.
I mean, fuck, kid, what, do you
need some weed or somethin'?
(Grunts)
You mean marijuana?
(Electronic music)
(Coughing continues)
You all right?
(Laughs)
How am I supposed to know
when that kicks in?
Let me see those globes.
Oh, yeah.
You're fuckin' pie-eyed, buddy.
- Huh?
- You're baked.
- Right now?
- Yeah.
- You know how I can tell?
- How?
I'm not sensing any hostility
comin' offa you.
- That's weird. Right?
- Hm-hm.
Look, do you want a little advice?
Sure.
You should be smokin' a gram
of that shit every day.
- Won't I get hooked?
- Hopefully.
(Laughs)
Look, I'mma set you up
with a quarter,
and then I'm gonna teach ya how
to roll a nice, tight bomber.
Aw, thanks.
Hey, did you turn the crickets up?
(Chuckles)
Don't worry about the crickets.
Yeah, you know,
I think I'm stoned.
Yeah, you're really
fuckin' stoned.
That shit burned out a minute ago
and you're still taking hits off of it.
(Footsteps approaching)
Hey.
Hey.
Where is everybody?
Dad's at the office,
Mom took Kevin to high school.
Hm.
(Inhales)
You got any coffee left?
It's cold.
I'm not supposed to have
anything turned on
when I'm alone at the house.
What are you doin'?
I am looking for my purpose.
Your purpose?
Mom says I need to find my purpose
now that I lost my job at The Pet Zone.
Look, she circled
all the good ones.
Let me see that.
Dishwasher?
That's a shit job.
Yeah, that's what I said,
but then Dad said that maybe
I could work my way up
to the prep table.
Oh, my God.
That's so fuckin' bleak,
it's makin' me lightheaded.
Table washer at the food court
in the mall?
God, that coffee taste like shit.
(Sighs)
It's Sanka.
(Mug shatters)
- You got any scratch?
- Huh?
(Lighter flicks)
- Money?
- (Scoffs) Nope.
Mr. Hanley still owes me
for two weeks.
That motherfucker never cut you
a check after he fired you?
- Mm-mm.
- (Lighter clinks)
Well, we're gonna pay him
a little visit today.
And then afterwards,
I'm gonna let you buy me lunch.
Hey, can we shoot hoops first?
(Electronic music)
(Gasping)
Dang!
You're good at basketball!
What do you say
we play H-O-R-S-E?
What do you say
we play F-U-C-K instead?
You ever played F-U-C-K before?
Here's my spot, OK?
How come you clam up
whenever I talk about fuckin'?
You ever make it with a guy?
(Basketball bounces)
Woohoo!
Your turn.
All right, how 'bout this?
If I make this shot,
then you give me a kiss.
A tongue Kiss.
OK.
Yeah?
Yeah.
(Clicks tongue)
What the fuck?
Hey, you got a dead cat here.
Yeah. It's been there
since Monday.
So why the fuck don't you
bury it or something?
I don't know. I've just been,
like, watching it.
- Why?
- I don't know.
That's some creepy shit.
- It is?
- Yeah.
That's like serial killer shit.
- It is?
- Yeah.
Do you think I'm weird?
Oh, yeah.
No, you're fuckin' weird.
- Well, is weird cool?
- In your case, no.
- Well, do you think I'm cool?
- I just said no.
Huh?
I'm fuckin' with you again.
Let's go!
(Electronic music)
So how much
does this hand job owe you?
Like, 400 bucks.
What if I told you
I could double that in a day?
- How?
- Magic.
Like, real magic?
Shit, it's the pigs.
- Well, here comes the 113.
- Don't look.
(Brakes hiss)
Go.
What the...
one fuckin' step, come on!
Shit!
- I'm gonna run.
- No.
They'll catch you.
Cops are fast.
They parked on the other side
of the street.
What are they doin'?
Looks like
they're eating burritos.
Hey, fuckpie.
You here for the deuce?
Oh, she's ready to fuck, D.
All hot and bothered.
Just check out
her candy-apple cheeks.
(Chomps teeth)
What the fuck?
Hey, this seat-sniffer
pervin' on you, retard?
No, he's my boyfriend.
That so?
I'm not her boyfriend.
(Laughing)
- Retard's got a boyfriend.
- Apparently, this faggot here.
Shut the fuck up.
Don't call her a retard.
Can you believe this faggot?
Yeah, he's got a faggot mouth
on him, too.
That's an awful lot of faggot
talk comin' from two guys
that look like they're made
for a Russian circle jerk.
Oh, you're dissing
our tracksuits, faggot?
Yeah. I'm dissing
your motherfuckin' tracksuits.
- (Bell rings)
- (Automated voice) 'Stop requested.'
(Grunting)
That's what I thought, bitch.
All you punk faggots got a lot of lip,
but you can't back it up.
Hey, come on, D.
We're gonna be late for practice.
(Hocking)
I hope he's got a decent cock, retard,
cos he can't fight for shit.
We're still free after practice
if you wanna fuck.
(Bus door closes)
(Electronic music)
Where are we going?
Slow down!
My legs aren't as long as yours.
(Door chime rings)
I'll give you
everything in my pocket
if you let me borrow
your truck for an hour.
Far out, man.
Shit, keep her all weekend.
Toss me that mini bat, too.
(Engine revs)
(Tires screeching)
Buckle up!
I drive fuckin' nuts!
- It feels like we're on TV!
- This ain't fuckin' TV!
(Tires screeching)
Why are we at my house?
Get your Polaroid, a trash bag
and meet me out back.
(Electronic music)
(Grunts)
- (Groaning)
- Twist it up.
Let's go.
(Simon) What are they doin'?
It's like they're warming up.
And stretching.
Show 'em your tits.
- Huh?
- Lift up your shirt.
- No.
- Just do it.
Whoa!
Check it.
(Chuckles)
- Dude!
- Oh, my God!
Hey, hey!
Where the fuck
are you douchebags goin'?
Uh, we'll be right back, Coach.
We gotta take care of something.
Yeah.
(Derrick laughs)
- They're coming!
- Good.
Lay down
on those tackle dummies.
- Why?
- Trust me.
No, on your tummy.
Turn around.
Try to look provocative.
(Patty) Huh?
Oh. Oh, yeah.
Dude, I told you she was in heat.
Go.
Let's double stuff this tard.
(Derrick) Ah, fuck yeah.
(Grunting)
- Now what?
- Strip 'em.
Dump it right in the middle
of this shit fuckin' sandwich.
(Gags)
(Polaroid whirs)
- Coach?
- Huh?
I think the equipment shed
is on fire.
Holy shit.
(Polaroid whirs)
Hold this.
Wake up, cat fuckers!
Come here.
It's a little memento.
You ever call her a retard again,
and this bitch is gonna haunt you
for the rest of your fuckin' life.
(Breathes heavily)
(Laughs) Catfuckers!
Let's beat it.
(Laughs)
Come on! Let's go!
Woohoo!
(Patty giggles)
- (Gasping)
- (Screaming)
Fucking' punk!
What in the fuck is going on?
Jesus fuck!
Get up!
Get up!
- (Yelling)
- (Laughing)
- Fuck, yeah!
- Fuck those jock assholes!
Oh, my God!
That was just like TV!
Man, fuck TV!
That was some raw ass shit!
- Simon?
- Yeah?
- Are we going to jail?
- Probably.
(Door chime rings)
Welcome to Pet Zone.
How may I assist you today?
- What are you doing here?
- What do you mean?
Why are you working here?
Uh... I don't know
what you mean.
Where's your smock?
Why are you putting stickers
on the cat food?
- Mr. Hanley?
- (Mr. Hanley) Yes?
Mr. Hanley, what...
what is she doing here?
You said that you were going back
to cleaning out the cages yourself
because Michigan
was raising the minimum wage.
Look, Patty, you're a nice
enough kid and all,
but let's face it,
you're a little slow.
Too slow for what,
this crummy ass pet store?
Where's her fuckin' check?
Rebecca, why don't you, uh...
head back to the grooming
station and take your break.
Uh-uh. Don't you listen
to this geezer.
- I want you to stay put.
- It's OK.
Why do you keep
fuckin' lookin' at her?
(Sticker gun clicks)
I am not slow, Mr. Hanley,
and I know where everything in
this store is better than you!
And especially her!
Where's the goddamn paycheck?
I told Patty I'd put it in the mail
at the end of the week.
- It is the end of the week!
- I want my motherfucking check!
(Both yelling)
(Hawaiian music)
- You know what you want?
- I'll have the Hawaiian.
Hawaiian, huh?
It has a pineapple ring
and a slice of ham on top.
What kind of sauce?
Hm, I don't know.
Hey, what kind of sauce
comes on the Hawaiian?
Like, a honey glaze.
All right,
two Hawaiian sandwiches.
You want some
of my Jimbo fries?
Yeah, all right.
- So, is this, like, a date?
- Hmm?
Are we on a date?
No, this is a shitty lunch.
Besides, I thought you
were in love with John Q.
Yeah, but he's not real.
He's just my music boyfriend.
Well, I'm gonna take you
to see PSYOPS tomorrow night.
You're gonna see
your music boyfriend.
Well, is that a date?
Yeah, it's a date.
Simon?
You can kiss me now.
It's OK.
I want you to.
(Electronic music)
You can fuck off now.
(Patty laughs)
You're a real good kisser.
(Chuckles)
Seriously.
I would not have guessed that.
- Thanks.
- (Grunts)
I guess all my practice
with Kevin really pays off.
What?
Well, he's not
my real brother. Duh.
He's adopted.
I'm just fucking with you.
(Laughs)
You need to take it
down a notch.
(Laughs)
You need to take it
down a notch.
And you! You need to take it
down a notch, too.
(Patty laughs)
- So much for job hunting, huh?
- Fuck job hunting.
(Chuckles)
I'll drive you around tomorrow
in the truck.
Sweet.
- Hey, you wanna go fuck around?
- Yeah, sure.
You like Whack-a-Mole?
(MAC DEMARCO:
"My Kind of Woman")
Oh, baby
Oh, man
You're making my crazy
Really driving me mad
That's all right with me
It's really no fuss
As long as you're next to me
Just the two of us
You're my, my, my,
my kind of woman
My, oh my, what a girl
You're my, my, my,
my kind of woman
And I'm down
on my hands and knees
Begging you please,
baby, show me your world
Pick something out.
(Patty gasps)
I want him.
Wait in line.
Where are you going?
(Garage door opens)
(Patty) I hope Mom's not miffed
we missed dinner.
Thursday night
is always a big hit.
(Simon) What's Thursday?
(Patty) New England clam chowder.
(Simon laughs)
Fucking Christ.
Hey, Simon?
Yeah?
Thanks for, like, the best day ever.
(Electronic music)
I decided on a name for him.
What?
Chomby.
(Chuckles)
Chomby.
(Door opening)
(Laughs)
- You back for seconds, Kev?
- Hm?
That chowder
must've been tits, huh?
- Yo, what happened to your eye?
- Don't worry about it.
What are you doing?
Why aren't you wearing pants?
Oh, we should talk.
Things have gotten a little crazy.
Look, everything was OK
until Mom and Dad ate
some of Jill's brownies.
Wait a minute.
Who's Jill?
- Hey!
- Jill.
What's she doing here?
- She's shy.
- I'm not wearing pants.
Why is she not wearing pants?
Or underwear.
Kev, you sinking the pink?
Look, Simon,
you were totally right, man.
Everything changed for me
when I started smoking pot.
(Kev snorts)
- What's the pink?
- Vagina.
(Chef on TV)
'So, what we're gonna do
'is just whisk it all together,
'and you want to whisk it together
so that any of the... the cocoa powder
'and the cornstarch
all get mixed with the granulated...'
Hey, kids.
He's making toffee.
Dad?
Are you OK?
Oh, yeah.
How did the job hunt go?
Oh, I don't know, I...
I guess we'll see
if anyone calls.
Oh, don't they just hire you
if they like you?
Well, there were
multiple candidates.
Oh, hi, Simon.
What happened to your face?
I fell down the escalator
at the shopping mall.
Mm.
You should go to the freezer,
get the peas, put them on that eye.
Yeah, I can't.
Kev's guarding it like a hawk.
That's his turf now.
Oh. You know he has a girlfriend?
Yeah, I do. Jill.
She's a real peach.
Look, Mom, Simon's gonna take me
to a rock show on Friday night.
Oh, we talked about that.
We don't like rock concerts for her
because of the strobe lights.
There's not gonna be any
fuckin' strobe lights, Connie.
- You're thinking of a rave.
- What's that?
It's a bunch of drug addicts,
glowsticks, shit fuckin' music.
- Have you heard of the raves?
- Oh, yeah.
- Mom?
- What?
Why are you and Dad
not wearing any pants?
I'm not sure.
(Grunting)
(Punk rock music playing)
What the fuck
is going on in here?
Is this provocative?
I don't know what that is.
Kill that ghetto blaster,
will ya?
(Turns music off)
(Simon sighs)
Do you want to put your hands
inside my sweatpants?
(Chuckles)
Look, how about a raincheck, hm?
I don't even know
if I can get hard right now.
My face feels like
fuckin' hamburger.
(Sighs)
What do you got in that maraca?
- My EZ-Dose?
- Yeah.
Just my medications.
Well, hook me up
with Sunday and Monday.
I'm fuckin' dyin' here.
(Grunts)
(Gulps)
Fuck.
(Sighs)
Hey, Simon?
Mm-hm.
What's a raincheck?
(Birds chirping)
(Patty) Simon?
(Simon exhales)
Simon?
- Sim...
- (Gasps)
(Simon groaning)
You've gotta wake up.
You've been asleep for eleven hours.
Oh, fuck.
Those pills are lethal.
You blast those every day?
(Groans)
Can you drive me
to China Hut?
I've got an interview
in 30 minutes.
(Grunts)
All right.
(Groans)
(Electronic music)
Are we going in circles?
Cos that's the third time
I've seen those garden gnomes.
Why do you keep looking
at that house?
We're still going
job hunting, right?
Man, fuck job hunting.
Fuck China Hut.
Fuck America.
I mean, are you really excited
to clean dishes
in the back
of some shithole buffet?
Wait, what am I supposed to say
if someone answers the door?
I don't know, just say
you lost your dog.
Ask if they've seen it
in the garden or some shit.
- Yeah, but I don't have a dog.
- Yeah, I know.
It's just pretend.
Oh. OK.
Can the dog's name be Chomby?
Yeah.
(Doorbell rings)
Nobody is in here.
(Sighs)
(Lighter flicks)
You're not gonna burn
this house down, are you?
What? No.
I live here sometimes.
Holy smokes, a real trap set.
Can I play it?
Knock yourself out.
Yo.
Where?
Where and when's the show?
All right, don't be late.
You suck at drums.
(Laughs)
Yeah, I'm more of a singer.
You sing, huh?
Like what?
Oh, like, just, like,
little songs I hear in my head.
Hey, whose equipment is all this?
- It was mine.
- Really?
- Mm-hm.
- You could play all these?
Come here.
I want to tell you something.
Come here.
(Patty grunts)
Are you all right?
Yeah, I just hit my elbow a little...
- (Lighter flicks)
- ...and my ribs.
All right, listen.
(Exhales)
I'm John Q.
What?
I'm John Q. from PSYOPS.
You're not John Q.
Nobody knows who John Q. is.
Don't you think that maybe
John Q. knows who John Q. is?
(Laughs)
What?
(Laughs)
Close your eyes.
(Zipper unzips)
Close 'em.
(Laughs)
Open 'em.
(Chuckles)
Big deal.
Looks just like the one I had
for Toboggan Club.
Smell it.
(Sniffs)
Ugh.
It smells like the headphones
on the hearing van.
That's the sweat of every show
we've ever played
trapped in this fucker.
That's the smell
of rock and roll.
(Chuckles)
What?
You're still not convinced?
Oh, my God.
You are John Q.
That's fuckin' awkward, huh?
I mean, not as awkward
as beating off to a torso
on a cartoon bedspread
for two years, I guess.
You have any idea how worked up
those Polaroids got me?
Did you write all those?
Fuckin' A.
How?
I mean, you call them
love poems,
but they're really these...
these brilliant power pop songs.
I mean, they're fuckin' genius.
Do you have any idea
what you're doing?
Will you say something to me?
Are you all right?
(Electronic music)
No, leave it.
Violate me.
Fuck me.
(Breathing heavily)
(Headboard thumps)
(Giggles)
I think I want more violation.
(Chuckles)
I gotta save my juice.
Let's rock out.
OK, hit it.
It's rolling.
(Rock music playing)
I can't believe all that
only took, like, 20 minutes.
This one right here,
August 13th.
That was my favorite.
(Muffled rock music)
- You really want me to do this?
- Yeah.
Let's see what you got.
OK, can I have a kiss?
(Cassette tape rewinds)
(Rewinding stops)
(Plays cassette tape)
(Drumsticks clicking)
(Rock music playing)
I'm a watermelon
slammed into your driveway
Crack me open
so I feel the air inside me
Like a tongue-tongue
In my eardrum, dumb-dumb
Music boyfriend,
I'm your yum-yum
Call me and I'll come
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
Am I dreaming
or did you just kiss me?
You don't know it
but you already miss me
Like a tongue-tongue
In my eardrum, dumb-dumb
Music boyfriend,
I'm your yum-yum
Call me and I'll come
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
But us
But us
Fuck 'em all, but us
Fuck.
(Breathes shakily)
That was tits.
Is tits good?
Yeah. Yeah.
Tits is good.
(Chuckles)
Let's mix it.
(Cassette tape rewinds)
(Nancy) Simon?
(Footsteps approaching)
Yeah, Mom?
What's going on down here?
How did you get in?
With my key.
You're not supposed
to have a key.
Who's this?
This, um... is Patty.
We're recording a song.
How was Tanzania?
Tanzania?
Are you both on dope?
He's definitely on dope.
All right, back off, Renae.
I'm not on dope.
He totally is, Mom. I can tell.
He won't look at me.
He looks past me,
but not into my eyes
cos he doesn't want me
to see his eyes.
Jesus fucking Christ! Can we
just eat the fucking meal?
Don't talk like that
in front of my kids.
We learned about dope
in D.A.R.E.
Dopers share needles
and get AIDS.
Why are you here?
(Sighs)
Oh, it's nice
to see you too, Dad.
- Answer your father.
- If it's about money, no way.
Well, don't worry about it.
I'm not after your goddamn money.
There's an agenda, Mom.
There's always an agenda.
If I were you, I'd check
my jewelry box before he bails.
- Shut the fuck up, Renae!
- Strike two.
What is this?
What are you doin'?
- What is this?
- He's high, Mom.
Don't pay attention to him.
It's what he wants.
He feeds off it.
Uncle Simon
has dirty fingernails
like the dopers
in my D.A.R.E. book.
- (Door closes)
- (Danny) Hello?
Hey, sorry I'm late.
Why is the front door locked?
Oh.
What are you doin' here?
- Hi. I'm Danny.
- Hi.
- Did you give him your key?
- Yeah. So?
Why'd you do that?
You know he's not supposed
to be in here, right?
- Relax, Renae.
- I need to relax, Danny?
Poor Mom had to come home
and find these two
in the basement shooting up.
Oh, my God.
(Sighs)
- What's going on here?
- Nothing.
Nobody's shooting dope,
all right?
We were writing a song
in the basement.
I can't do this anymore!
Great, now Dad's upset.
Stop picking on Simon!
- Excuse me?
- You heard me.
You're all being mean!
He doesn't do dope.
He just ate Sunday and Monday
from my EZ-Dose
- because he got beat up.
- (Chuckles)
Mommy, what is she talking about?
I have no idea. I think she's
just as strung out as he is.
OK, you know what?
Leave her out of this.
Look, you seem
like a nice enough girl,
but I'm sure
he's got you brainwashed
or he's manipulating you
with drugs somehow.
Simon is a pathological liar.
He's a thief and a total pyro.
Hey, you know the cops have been
sniffing around for you?
Yeah.
They came by the office
and grilled me for a half hour.
Oh, God.
Oh, no.
It's OK, Mom.
He'll be gone soon.
What's a pyro again?
- A pyro's...
- Oh. Are you serious?
OK, you know what?
Knock it off! Knock it off!
- Not the sharpest stick, is she?
- Don't talk about her like that!
- Like what?
- Like she's subhuman,
and with that condescending
fucking tone!
All right!
That's three!
Yeah? What the fuck are you
gonna do about it, Allen?
Hey, hey, hey!
Hey, hey, hey!
- Come on, motherfucker!
- hey, hey, hey, stop!
- Here you go, come on.
- Let's go, big shot!
(Nancy screams)
Get out!
You ruin everything!
Just get out of here!
Come on.
(Truck engine hums)
So, what'd you think
of my family?
I like your brother, Danny.
Yeah, he's solid.
Simon?
Yeah?
Do you think I'm a retard?
(Tires screeching)
Don't you ever talk like that.
Ever.
You are not a retard.
You are a total punk rocker.
- I am?
- Yes.
You are punk as fuck.
Can we listen
to our song in here?
Fuck, yeah.
Pop that shit in the tape deck.
("Watermelon" playing)
Are we going on our date now?
Yeah, we're going
on our date now.
I'm a watermelon
slammed into your driveway...
- Simon?
- Hmm?
Remember when I told you that
yesterday was the best day ever?
Like a tongue-tongue...
Yeah.
Today is even better.
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
(Chattering)
(Electric guitar music)
What a fuckin' dump.
I mean that's, what, 40 people?
You call this a show?
It's punk rock, you dumb fuck.
(Laughs)
Hey, you watch your fuckin' mouth.
You have any idea
how many bands would kill
to play a show
with The Alliance?
I'm throwing you
a fuckin' bone, kid.
Yeah? Well, why don't you
take that bone
and shove it up
your fat fuckin' ass?
(Laughs)
What's with your boy?
How come I gotta fuckin' twist his arm
to play with the hottest band
out of New York?
Fuckin' hottest pile of shit
out of New York.
Oh, OK. So, so you're
gonna tell me what's hot?
Kid, I'm standing in the fuckin'
filthiest green room
I've ever seen in my life,
and you're about to play
next to a fuckin' Chevy Impala.
Yeah, well, nobody asked you
to fucking come.
- Actually, I did.
- You would.
Let's do this.
Troy says
we gotta be out by ten.
You're makin'
a huge fuckin' mistake.
These cocksuckers said you're playing,
and I'm holding you to it.
I sunk my own money
in this promotion.
Yeah?
That's not my fuckin' problem.
I booked it two weeks ago.
I'm makin' it your fuckin' problem.
How about this?
Fuck you!
Fuck your problems!
I'd rather fuck my own mom
than play with The Alliance.
- Let's go.
- Simon!
You cunts just made
my shit list.
This little fuck-up's gonna
cost me a lot of money.
What the fuck is this shit?
(Laughs)
(Crowd cheering)
You make the rules,
we break the rules
We do it our way
Rejects of society
and we are here to stay
Won't take your shit
no fucking more
Today is the day
Time has come
to give you some
Get out of my face
Shit that's flying
out of your mouth
I'm going insane
One more fucking
word from you
I'll kick you in the face
Have no respect
for your kind
You're cancer in my brain
We're paranoid,
it's justified
This is what we say
We won't obey
We won't, we won't obey
We won't, we won't obey
We won't, we won't obey
We won't obey
We won't obey
We won't obey
No
(Crowd cheering)
This next one is dedicated
to my music girlfriend.
(Cheering)
(Punk rock music)
Microwave it, shove it down
Too bad your food
is turning brown
Poison veggies
and plastic meat
Nothing real
for us to eat
Around the table,
Mom and Dad
Conversations
that make you sad
A lot of talking,
endless dread
Just shove it
in and off to bed
Dinnertime,
dinner in America
Dinnertime,
dinner in America
Dinnertime,
dinner in America
(Drums pounding)
(Sirens chirping)
Run!
(Percussive music)
Fuck you!
Fuck you!
How fucking unpunk is it,
turn me in on some
Crime Stoppers hotline?
Fucking bullshit!
- Motherfucker!
- Get in the car!
Wait, wait! Wait!
You can't take him!
He didn't do anything!
Hey, have fun in the nasty.
They're gonna crack your pelvis
like a softshell crab.
Hey.
- I got your cigarettes.
- Aw, that's fuckin' tits.
(Lighter flicks)
(Electronic music)
(Sighs)
Sorry about this shitty
fucking date.
(Chuckles)
It doesn't get much worse
than this.
It's OK. I'm just happy
I got to see you play.
I'm not gonna see you
for a while, huh?
- Hey, Simon?
- Yeah?
Remember when you dedicated the
song to your music girlfriend?
Mm-hm.
You were looking at me, right?
Yeah, I was lookin' at you.
I thought so.
Simon?
Yeah?
You're my real boyfriend now, right?
Yeah, I'm your real boyfriend.
(Police radio chattering)
(Car door opens)
(Officer) No contact.
Keep that cigarette
out of the prisoner's mouth.
(Car door closes)
Stay punk.
(Sissy) Patty?
I told you it was her.
Hey, Sissy. Hi, Karen.
Were you just totally
tongue-fucking John Q.
In the back of that cruiser?
Uh-huh.
He's my real boyfriend.
We're starting a riot girl band.
You wanna be in it?
Uh-huh.
(Coughing)
(Electronic music)
(Simon) 'Patty, thanks
for the care package.
'I almost cried
when I saw the earplugs.
'If Lloyd was at an eight
before, now he's at a two.'
(Grunting)
'Every now and then,
he hits a four.
'Gets himself whipped up into
a frenzy over Michelle McBride
'on the Action Five News.'
(Gasping)
(Grunting)
'There isn't shit to do here
but pump iron, write,
'and steer clear
of the shower sharks.
'Thanks for the notebook.
'I was down to my last one,
so the timing was tits.
'All insanity aside, I probably
generated enough material
'for ten albums
in this shithole.
'I hope Danny can drive you up
again for the holiday weekend.
'It's the only thing
I have to look forward to,
'even if we only get
half an hour.
'Trust me, I'm countin'
the fuckin' minutes.
'Your music boyfriend, Simon.
'PS: Thanks for taking care
of shit with Albert for me.
'Tell him Reggie's
peach cobbler is dynamite.
'For real, I think it saved my life.
'And you should see me.
I probably put on 15 pounds.'
(Polaroid whirs)
(Knocking on door)
(Cell door closes)
'I'm feeling so much stronger
'since I stopped eating
the shit they feed the animals.
'It's just too bad
you have to go to prison
'to get a decent
dinner in America.'
(Laughs)
What's so funny, retard?
Hey, horse face,
we're fucking talking to you.
- Is she fucking ignoring us?
- Are you ignoring us, retard?
(Gina) Maybe she's one
of those deaf mute retards.
Hey, are you one of those
deaf, mute retards?
(Bus bell rings)
(Automated voice)
'Stop requested.'
(Gasps)
You need to take it down a notch,
motherfucker!
(Electronic music)
("Watermelon" playing)
I'm a watermelon
slammed into your driveway
Crack me open
so I feel the air inside me
Like a tongue-tongue
In my eardrum, dumb-dumb
Music boyfriend,
I'm your yum-yum
Call me and I'll come
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
Am I dreaming
or did you just kiss me?
You don't know it
but you already miss me
Like a tongue-tongue
In my eardrum, dumb-dumb
Music boyfriend,
I'm your yum-yum
Call me and I'll come
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us
But us
But us
Fuck 'em all, but us