Snack Shack (2024) Movie Script
1
Here comes Lucky!
And they're off. Number 7,
Sandy's Rocket, out front.
Right behind him
by the three against the rail
as they head down
the front stretch...
Number 7, Sandy's Rocket,
in control now.
Down the backstretch...
Look at all this
fucking coin, dude.
A.J., where's the capper?
Shredded. Back in VIP.
Look who's Big Money in seven.
No fucking way, Moose.
Yes fucking way. We're red-hot.
Don't shit on our streak.
I'm not shitting on our streak.
You're shitting all over
our streak big time.
"Four runs and we bone out."
Those were your exact words.
Yeah, and Big Money in six
was a fucking game changer.
It's two o'clock.
It's five 'til.
Come on, we should bounce.
Pensacola's already halfway
through the post parade, pussy.
Dude, you're going rogue.
Because you're being a pussy.
Shut the f--
Y'all fixing to place a bet?
Just a sec, darling.
Come on, bitch. Look up there
and tell me who's Big Money.
Sweetchuck's our boy.
Sweetchuck? Fuck you.
Crowd's got wood
for Easy Does It.
The crowd goes home
in a body bag, okay?
Let's go straight bet.
No exotics. Let it ride.
Fuck you! We're up three bills.
I'm not letting it ride.
Now who's the pussy?
Get the fucking cab.
- All right.
- And they're off.
Gonna fuck it all up!
What the fuck, A.J.?
Sweetchuck hard-charging...
Pussy. Oh, fuck. Oh, my God.
He's breaking...
Run! Run! Run! Come on!
Now he's two lengths ahead.
Oh, shit! Here he comes!
Big money, money, money!
And it's Sweetchuck
at the wire!
Sweetchuck! Sweetchuck!
No, no, no, no!
Moose, our cab!
Some chud's ganking it.
Oh, fuck!
Now what are we supposed to do?
We're screwed.
Oh, what? You gonna run
across the river bridge?
A.J., it's the fucking
interstate!
Fuck!
Fuck!
Hey! Hey, buddy!
I got an easy 50!
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Stay in this lane!
You almost hit that car!
Fuck! Moose...
All right, I need you to punch
this shitbox, all right?
Moose, Moose...
Come on! Come on!
Where the heck
have you guys been?
We've been waiting
for 35 minutes.
We got stuck on the train
by the Bongo habitat.
Some kid had a grand mal seizure
and they shut it down.
What could we do?
Just get on the dang bus.
Hey, butt fuck!
You're both dead
if I'm late for practice.
What practice, Randy?
You do wrestling and football.
Yeah, it's fucking May, loser.
Fuck off.
All right, homeboy,
what are you feeling?
Benjys and Grants
or Jackies and Hams?
Why're you doing the lip thing?
I'm not doing a lip thing.
Makes you look like you're
prepping to suck an asshole.
No more wild-card shit.
You're breaking your own rules.
Fuck off,
don't be such a basket case.
Look at this epic
fucking split, dude!
Goddamn it, I want to epic split
your fucking mouth.
Yeah?
Why don't you try it, pussy?
Because every chaperone
on this bus
is fucking staring at us.
What?
Yo, question.
Yeah, dude?
Who'd you like in the 8th?
Hoo-hoo-hoo!
Ooh, what's the wort at?
Uh, it's at 69 degrees.
All right, let's pitch
the fucking yeast
and put her to bed.
Home sweet home.
Squeeze that airlock in.
Is that one leaking?
Brand-new tub.
How could it be leaking?
Let's check the pH
on the lagers.
Booyah. What are you feeling?
Let's go pilsner.
Cheers.
Cheers, dude.
Whoa.
Looks bright.
Spritzy.
Mm. Wow.
Yeah, I know, dude.
We fucking made that!
We made that!
This is, like, real beer.
Mm! Let's go with that.
What?
Real Beer. For the label.
I found a printer
in Tecumseh.
They can bang them out
for two cents a pop.
I dig it.
All right, so, look, man,
I want to pitch you an idea.
Okay, hit me.
It's time to expand
the operation.
All right, so look, dude,
we're sitting on a cash cow
with Real Beer.
Fifteen gallons a month
is baby stuff
compared to what we could do
if we scaled her up
to a buck twenty.
A hundred and twenty gallons?
A month, dude.
And we'll cash flow
our day-to-day ops
with our track winnings
until we get to a rhythm
where this thing
is running itself.
Moose, we haven't
even sold a single beer.
Yet. You gotta learn
to forecast, bitch.
Fuck!
We hit two matinees a week,
we're solid gold.
Two? We'd be lucky to scrounge
up a ride every two weeks.
Pause.
Don't worry about transpo.
Transpo's my turf.
And we'll circle back in a sec.
A huge part of this operation
is figuring out
the right foot soldiers
to bring in.
What do you think
of Jason Beaumont?
Dude, fucking kid's a narc.
He'd squeal for sure.
Yeah! I love your instincts!
That's why you're gonna run HR.
Handle all the recruiting.
Fuck!
That was a fucking neck shot!
Forecast.
You said no fucking necks.
So are we in agreement
that transpo's
our number one concern?
Hundred percent.
And until this operation's
got wheels,
if feels like it's dead
in the water.
Okay, hear me out.
Fuck, these are awesome.
Tom, we're good to go.
Kip Langer's older brother.
You know him?
Darian?
No, Darian's in Chrissy's class.
I'm talking about Gary.
With the lazy eye
and the gelled hair.
Oh, yeah. The DJ guy.
Yeah.
So he's got a limo thing
on the side, dude.
Like weddings and proms,
all that type of shit.
Thanks, Tom.
You know what?
Here's a little something
for you.
So obviously, his rates
are premium on the weekends,
because that's where
all the action is.
But Monday through Thursday
is a total fucking dead zone.
So I've got Gary locked in
at 25 bucks an hour,
plus we gotta float the gas.
But all he needs
is a three-hour heads-up.
So you want to take a limo back
and forth between Bluffs Run?
Yeah, twice a week.
It'd be like a C-note
per run, max.
That's it?
That's fucking it, dude.
It's actually
a really boss idea.
It's airtight, bitch.
I knew you'd be all over it.
This fucker's
double O-C too.
Huh?
Fucking limo, asshole.
It's got a 13-inch TV
with a built-in VHS.
Mini wet bar.
Motorola bag phone.
Why would we need
a bag phone?
In case we gotta move
on some shit
and we don't have time
to hit a payphone.
Look, stop fixating
on the bag phone.
Are you in or you out?
I'm in.
I'm in, yeah.
All right, I'll set it up.
Oh, buddy,
we're gonna be rolling
in so much fucking dough
this summer.
Yo, I'm home.
Mm, Mrs. C.,
these deer chops are banging.
What's going on?
How was the field trip, boys?
Oh, like the best ever.
Yeah, we got to hand-feed
the giraffes.
Yeah, the sucker was eating
right out of our palm.
Speaking of hands,
let me smell those hands.
Jesus, what?
No. Why?
Are you trying
to hide something from us?
Oh, he is. Big time.
No, no, I just don't want you
smelling my hands.
- It's weird.
- It's not weird.
It's just a set of hands, son.
Afraid we'll find out
about the cigarettes?
Cigarettes? We--
Mr. Rubenking said
he saw you and Moose
smoking cigarettes
in the VIP area
of I-80 OTB this afternoon.
I-80 OTB?
It's an off-track
betting parlor.
In Council Bluffs, Iowa.
Right across the river bridge
from the Henry Doorly Zoo.
Smoking cigarettes
and going berserk!
He emphasized "berserk."
And the damn neon shirts!
Awful quiet, Moose.
Did you get those fancy shoes
with your gambling winnings?
Guilty!
Moose...
Chrissy, go to your room.
No way.
In your room, young lady.
Ugh!
Witness stand.
No.
No, I'm not...
There's been
a pattern with you two.
An escalation.
A very dangerous escalation.
We're not escalating.
Illegally crossing state lines
to hang out at an off-track
betting parlor?
We're not hanging out.
We're working.
Working!
Oh, my God!
You're not a pro gambler!
Are you two doing dope?
Okay, no on the dope,
and no, I'm not gonna become
a professional gambler.
You two idiots are gonna end up
in a double funeral
or on the side
of a fricking milk carton.
Is it Moose? Is he the one that
talks you into this crazy stuff?
No, it's not Moose.
I came up with the system.
The system? What is the system?
A secret system
for big-money long shots.
You're 14 years old!
You don't have
a fricking system!
Dude, I am so fucking sorry.
The Judge started doing
the lip thing,
and I just fucking panicked.
Did you tell them
about the system?
They don't want to hear
about Big Money, Moose.
I'm grounded.
Banned from the track
and banned from Iowa.
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, dude.
This rat-fucks
our whole plan.
There is no plan.
We're done.
No more running free range.
They're shutting us down.
I've got one week
to find a legit job
before my mom goes
full-tilt DEFCON.
Full tilt? What do you mean?
Baseball.
Bible camp.
Weekends at her auction crew.
Fuck your mom's auction crew.
Shit pay.
Tell her we're not signing on
for three bucks an hour.
She made no mention
of hiring you.
We're a package deal, A.J.
You don't break up the band.
Look, just circle
the heavy hitters, okay?
Don't waste your time
with that entry-level slop.
I'm not.
Dude, don't worry.
Tomorrow after school,
we'll get some shit lined up.
Easy peasy.
All right?
See ya, pussy.
See ya.
What if we doubled
the batch?
And then had only
one foot soldier
instead of an entire roster
of guys to manage?
Fuck me, you really want
to hobby brew?
No--
Look, the company's fucked.
We're never gonna cash-flow
this thing with minimum wage
and suck-ass hours.
Excuse me.
Pass the sack.
I got dibs on that last one.
Fuck you.
The big boy's mine.
Give it to me.
It's my money,
it's my gizzard.
Fuck, dude. My neck!
Forecast.
Boom! Right in the breadbasket!
And you fuckstains
are no Mike Rozier.
Is it piss?
Straight from the tap,
sweet cheeks.
You two dip fucks better grow
eyes in the back of your head.
High school's gonna be
a fucking meat grinder!
It's open season, limp dicks.
You never know when,
you never know where.
Pussies!
Whoo!
You boys all right?
That's piss, ain't it?
Yeah, it's piss.
Holy shit!
Shane!
What the fuck?
So much for one
weekend a month, huh?
Shotgun.
No fucking way.
Get in the back, mutant.
What's up, Eagle?
Fucking A...
This is why you're in the back.
Hold on to your fucking tits.
Fuck the Carmichaels.
Don't let those pussies
run a psyop on you.
Rodney's a horror show, dude.
That Boz cut, those muscles.
I mean...
He's a fucking juicehead, Eagle.
He used to bitch out
when I wrestled him at 160.
Yo, Rambo?
Fucking waste anyone over there?
The whole thing was over
in a hundred hours, dipshit.
The only thing I wasted
was my freshman year.
The town's still covered
in yellow.
Maybe they'll give you
the keys to the city, dude.
Shit, I'd settle for the keys
to the Toddy Shop.
Old enough to die for Uncle Sam,
but still can't buy
a fucking sixer.
Yo, homey.
Do you want a beer?
Fuck!
Seriously?
You turds made this?
Yeah.
All right, so check it.
You gotta pour it like this.
And don't drink the stuff
on the bottom.
Copy that.
Moment of truth.
Well?
Goddamn, fellas.
It's not shit.
It's drinkable as fuck.
Drinkable as fuck!
Oh, yeah, dude!
That's going on
the fucking sticker for sure!
All, right, can we put you down
for a case?
Whoo!
Well, you know the rules.
No glass on deck.
Yes, sir.
The water's piss-warm, dude.
Yeah. Ron always cranks it
for the invitationals.
Hey, we need to bag
some summer jobs.
You think you can hook us up?
No.
It's not gonna fly.
You gotta be 16 to guard.
Ron might budge
on the Eagle Scout,
but definitely
not on you.
Well, fuck Ron. Fuck the pool.
Me and A.J. are a package deal.
Shit, you can ask the Bravo boys
if they need an extra hand.
With what?
They're planning on running
that thing this summer.
What thing?
That thing.
The Snack Shack.
So does their family,
like, own it or something?
No, Bravos don't own it.
City owns it.
Yo, toss me your keys.
I want to see
inside that fucker.
Don't have any.
Snack Shack's totally
separate from the pool.
Okay, so they rent it
from the city?
No, I think it gets bid out
through Parks & Rec.
Okay, how's that work?
I don't know, dude.
I think they bid it out
at the city council
meeting tomorrow.
How much the Bravos
throw down on that sucker?
Ask them. They're gonna be
at the sunken lot tonight.
Are you thinking
what I'm thinking?
That we hit the sunken lot,
dump some beer,
get intel on
the Bravo boys' bid,
then rat-fuck them at the city
council meeting tomorrow night.
Yo! Shit pig.
You all right?
Huh? Me?
Yeah. You, like,
having a fit or something?
Oh. It's just allergies.
It's like...
Allergies?
Grass, pollen, ragw--
Yeah, like the movie about
the kid in the plastic bubble?
No. No, it's not
like him at all.
I'm nothing like that.
Yeah, right.
Seriously.
Oh, God, you are
totally like him.
Sorry.
What is that?
My hanky?
Your hanky?
Oh, it's not mine.
It's actually my dad's.
Your dad loaned you
his fucking snot-rag?
Just temporarily.
Sorry, I'm not usually
like this.
I-I-I just took a Benadryl.
So...
Why are you doing that?
It's a free country, shit pig.
Close your mouth, you look like
a fucking grass carp.
God, I don't know why
Leah's so into you.
She made it out
like you were a real catch.
Oh. So you're, like,
Leah's cousin or something?
Doi.
And lucky me, she's only
35 miles south of Offutt,
so this shithole gets
to be my reality all summer.
Hmm.
Hey, what's the suicide rate
in this hick town?
Is that marijuana?
What? Are you allergic?
Oh, shit.
What is happening right now?
I just, uh...
It's dinner.
I should go.
I guess so.
See you around, shit pig.
Sooey!
So, how's the job hunt
coming along?
Mom, it's been like 48 hours.
Watch the sass back.
Mm, I got an auction
in two weeks.
Ordered you a medium
with the new logo, just in case.
It's polo style this year.
And salmon.
Mm! Chrissy's idea.
I designed them.
Have you thought
about mowing lawns?
Now that's an idea.
Are you kidding me?
This is me after one lawn.
Oh, come on, nothing a little
Benadryl couldn't level out.
God bless you.
Bless you.
This is Benadryl.
I'm the fricking poster boy.
No fricks.
No fricks.
Stuff it, Chrissy.
You stuff it.
Stuff it big time.
Zip it.
Hey, Mom, there's a study group
tonight for the Civics final.
Does it involve Moose?
No. It's over at Beaumont's.
There's a fella with a plan.
Such a go-getter.
Maybe you could tag-team
with his mowing business,
start some kind of lawn empire.
No. I don't want to start a lawn
empire with Jason Beaumont.
I just want to cram
for the Civics test.
Watch the sass back.
Ten p.m.
Ten?
Mom, come on, it doesn't
even start until eight--
Ten fifteen.
You're still grounded, buddy.
Eleven.
Here we go now.
Gonna let it go now.
We're gonna start now at 10,
10, we'll bring it up to 10:15.
We're taking the 10:15.
Hey!
All the way up to 11,
we're looking at 11.
- Eleven's too high. Grounded.
- Hey!
Bring it all the way back,
now 10:30, now 10:15.
10:15 it's gonna be,
and I'm giving you 10:15.
Sold now.
Sold!
Dude, I can't believe
we just dumped two cases.
Two cases is pussy.
Look at all these
college kids.
We gotta partner up
with some frats.
Get our foot soldiers
in UNL, UNO,
fucking Peru State.
Dude, we could be offloading 400
gallons of Real Beer a month.
Easy.
Hey, watch where you're going,
prep.
Sorry, dude.
What did you just fucking say?
We got a problem here?
There is so not a problem.
I didn't know
he was with you.
Sorry. It won't happen again.
Shane fucking Workman!
Oh, Bravos.
Right over there.
Okay, I've got this shit.
Hang back in the wings.
Hey, what's up, boys?
Who the fuck
are you assholes?
Moose Miller.
This is my associate, A.J.
We're the guys behind Real Beer.
Real Beer?
Yeah, that beer you're drinking.
Wh-- You made this?
Yeah, man.
We're still finalizing
the design on the logo,
but that next batch will look
as good as it tastes.
How old are you guys?
Fourteen.
Sixteen.
Almost fifteen.
Oh, yeah. I know this guy.
You're the judge's kid,
aren't you?
Yeah, he did our mom and dad's
divorce.
Huh?
I said your dad did
our mom and dad's divorce!
So, uh, we heard you guys
are renting the Snack Shack
out of the pool this summer.
Yeah. So what?
Well, Shane had mentioned
that you guys might need
some extra hands.
Nah, we're cool.
We can handle it ourselves.
It's probably a real
gravy train, huh?
We do all right.
Mm-hmm.
What's it cost to rent it out?
Three grand my ass.
They're bluffing, big time.
I don't know, dude.
A grand a month seems legit.
Chump change compared to what
the fucker could turn over.
Look, I say we go full tilt
on the Snack Shack.
What's the pH at?
It's a hair over 5.2.
All right.
I should go.
Jean'll kill me.
Fucker's definitely leaking.
It's not. Look, dude,
even if it took us all of June
to break even on the 3K,
it'd still tee us up right
in the sweet spot of the summer.
Fucking Fourth of July
to mid-August?
That's like six weeks
of straight Profit Town.
We can't cover three grand.
We're 1,600 bucks short.
Yeah? So, look,
I want to pitch you an idea.
The whole kit and caboodle?
Yeah. Yes... Yes, ma'am.
Take off those glasses.
Is there a problem here?
Goddamn.
I can't believe I let you
talk me into
this diaper shit, Moose.
Like I had to twist your arm at
18 percent, you fucking shyster.
Plus, you're the one
without a joint account, dude.
Why are we wearing suits?
We look like power players
that come in and cash out 2K
in a New York minute.
Oh, my God.
She's talking to the manager.
Dude, don't get your tits
in a ringer.
I bet it's just protocol
for any withdrawal over a grand.
No, that's Neil Bruning.
He's in bridge club
with my parents and his wife.
Bruning can't say shit, bitch.
It's not a joint account.
A.J.
Pretty chunky withdrawal for
a school day, don't you think?
We're entrepreneurs.
All right, last on the agenda:
the concession stand
out at Steinhart Pool.
Scooter, I understand
the bids are in?
Uh, just a single, Mike.
From Chris and Jeff Bravo.
To the tune of--
Hold on!
Hey, wait! Stop.
That is three thousand
and one...
USD.
Our bid for the concession stand
at the Steinhart Pool.
In singles?
Oh, it's a bit unorthodox,
but the council
will consider all bids,
proposed or otherwise.
Correct, Mr. Mayor?
Aye.
And the Bravos?
It looks like a check for...
$300.
Well, boys,
you've got yourself
a Snack Shack.
What the hell
were you two idiots thinking?
We have spent the last two hours
trying to track you down!
Where is that money?
Here, that's 400 right there.
- 400?
- Where's the rest?
I've got Bruning telling me you
drained your savings account.
This is tied
with the gambling, isn't it?
No, Mrs. C--
Shut the frick up!
We went down
to the city council meeting
and we bid on the Snack Shack
at Steinhart Pool, and we won.
You bid $2,000 on the Snack
Shack at the swimming pool?
Actually, we bid three.
And that money there
is for supplies and stuff.
Supplies and stuff?
Jean! Hand me that damn phone!
Hello? Carters.
Les?
I just found
a still in my basement.
The boys are making alcohol.
I thought his waterbed
had popped, but it was hooch.
Leaked out all the way
to the basement steps.
It's a science project.
Oh, bullshit!
Five bucks says they were gonna
peddle this shit to kids.
No.
No. No!
What is wrong with you?
Hey, Dad? Can I say something?
And our lucky 16th caller
will receive not one,
but two tickets to see
Mannheim Steamroller live
this September
at the Orpheum.
Again, that's 187-3348
for the studio line.
Coming up at the top
of the hour,
we've got the Ag Report,
followed by Party Line.
How could you?
That money was for college.
Or a car.
Mom...
Oh, man.
This place is wrecked.
It's a... It's a total shithole.
Yeah.
But it's our shithole.
Fuck.
Where's the fridge?
How the fuck should I know?
There's no fridge.
There's no microwave.
That's a double punch
to the dick.
Why is the floor
so fucking sticky? God!
And I'm pretty sure
that's rat shit.
All right, bitch.
Let's get to work.
We need this fucker
spick-and-span
in case some inspector comes
sniffing around. I'm serious.
Wait, wait, what the fuck
are you gonna do, Moose?
Are you for real?
Yeah.
I gotta handle
all the upper management shit.
Upper management?
Fucko, we're ten days out.
We don't have a candy
distributor locked.
No chips. No pop. No fridge.
No nuker. No fucking money.
What do you think I'm doing?
We're absolutely fucked.
No, we're not fucked.
My parents are gonna send me
to military school.
Calm the fuck down. No one's
going to military school.
All right, look, have a smoke.
Okay.
New deal. We gotta resurrect
one of the old schemes.
Make some quick cash
to float the first week.
You still holding any Utilac?
I think I've got ten cans.
Then we run Curbs-n-Candy.
With what candy, Moose?
Those Boy Scout chocolates.
Those Turtles.
No, that shit's pre-Webelos.
Who gives a shit?
It's not like some old bird's
gonna check the expiration date.
God.
You're subhuman.
You know that, right?
Oh, shit, dude.
I bet that's the Aksarben rep.
I left the payphone number
with some chick at corporate.
Just scrub the vermin shit,
okay?
I'll be back in a flash.
Again, Mrs. Havercamp,
we're talking a top-of-the-line,
aerosol-based Utilac 490.
Aesthetically, it is
a stunning, high-gloss finish.
Who are you with again?
SprayTech Industries, ma'am.
We specialize in aerosol-based
paint solution.
Wait, what is all this?
Oh, we'll paint your address
on your street curb.
No. I don't think so.
Well, then might we offer you
a delicious four-pack
of milk chocolate Turtles?
Yo, here's the sitch.
Homeboy's wanting to know
if we'd do two-fifty
and all this for the paint job.
Is that a bucket of golf balls?
Uh-huh.
Come on, have some dignity,
Moose.
No, dude, there are some
heavy hitters in here.
Pings, Callaways.
Fucking this dude's
clean as a whistle.
Okay.
I mean, I guess we could
go down to the golf course,
gank a couple empty three-packs
from the dumpster
behind the clubhouse,
dress them up like new.
Dude, we can flip those bitches
for five bucks a pop.
Yeah, okay, I'm in.
Alrighty, Willy.
Sold.
That's insane.
Yeah, true story.
Come on in.
Go on, take a seat.
Yo, dude.
Change okay?
Oh, yeah.
Count it, dude.
Uh, okay, I noticed
all these Wall Street Journals.
Jesus Christ.
Ah! You want to play the market,
huh?
Yes, yes. Big time.
Well...
I've got two words for you.
Tucson Electric.
Tucson Electric?
Come on, that geezer's brain
was totally pickled.
I don't think so, dude.
Willy's got the skinny.
You see all those WSJs?
Yeah, I saw them.
Half of them were yellow.
1985 yellow.
Fucking porch smelled like
a men's shelter.
He's throwing us a bone
'cause he digs our vibe, dude.
I'm telling you, we should think
about dumping like half our ROI
into Tucson Electric.
Moose!
We're running a bunch of schemes
to pay for the fuck-ups
on a job we haven't
even started yet.
Just keep an open mind, bitch.
Damn.
Hey.
Shit pig.
You're looking low.
Maybe this'll jazz things up.
What do you think?
It's hideous.
Oh, come on. It's solid gold.
Hold that sucker up.
Wait...
That's another keeper.
It tells a story.
Like an evolution.
An evolution?
Yeah.
Cool.
So, what's your name?
Whoa, shit pig.
Are you flirting with me?
Brooke?
Yo.
Gimme a ride to Chompy Cone?
Oh, yeah, sure. Hop in the Jeep,
girl. Buckle up.
Hi, A.J.
Hey.
Summer jobs in Hicksville.
Any ideas?
I don't do polo shirts
or visors.
I don't do polo shirts either,
so...
Hmm, you are flirting with me.
Oh, uh, can you swim?
Yeah.
Smell that?
On par with pussy.
Hey, you ever, uh, had a couple
boxes fall off the truck?
I don't know
what you're talking about.
Look, is your mom or dad around?
I need a Hancock
to square up on this invoice.
Nah, man, me and homeboy here
are 50/50 on this bitch.
I'm the one that set
everything up with Donna at HQ.
No shit.
Mm-hmm.
So check it,
so that's $350 right there,
but don't sweat the change.
Are you gonna be
our regular driver, Dean?
Yup. Thursdays around 11
if you got an order in.
All right, here's a little
something for you.
Seriously?
Yeah. Let me see that blade.
Hold on to this.
Bring it back if some peanut
M&M's ever fall off the truck.
You feel me?
What the fuck are you doing?
What do you mean?
We're still short,
and you're bleeding out Grants
to Dean the delivery guy?
Yeah, but watch how it
boomerangs back, bitch. Tenfold.
I don't want to watch it
boomerang back, Moose.
I want to get out
of the fucking hole.
Lip thing.
Look, there's a poker game
tonight at Duff Warfield's.
Fifty-dollar buy-ins.
We sweep that shit,
we're in like Flynn.
First week's covered.
And if we lose?
A.J., these guys are farm team.
We're talking sure shot.
Like taking candy from a baby.
You haven't even said shit
about the fridge yet.
You're welcome.
Yeah, it fucking reeks.
Where'd you get it?
Fusselman's.
Sucker's only five years old.
Can you believe
they'd dump this baby?
You got our fridge
from the funeral home?
Yeah. Nuker too.
Shit was a steal on Party Line.
Plus, they fucking delivered,
dude...
for a small fee.
Wait, what did you say?
Look, just get her stocked.
Okay? Anything chocolate
goes in the freezer.
I gotta move on some hot dogs
back at the IGA.
They practically give them away
when they're down to the wire.
Okay, I'll see you.
Wait...
Hey.
What's up, shit pig?
Those dance moves
are straight cringe.
Hmm.
So is this your little hovel?
Come on, give me a hand.
So...
Talk to your boy yet?
My... my boy?
Yeah, about getting me a job?
All right.
Show me an armpit tow.
On that skanky thing?
Relax, shit pig.
This doesn't mean
we're going steady.
Can you stop
calling me that?
Never.
This doesn't feel like
your first rodeo.
My daddy's an ex-PJ.
So I spent the last two summers
fishing airmen out of the pool
at Wright-Patterson,
just for shits and giggles.
Holy shit.
Well, I don't think I'm gonna
have to convince Ron.
See you tomorrow.
Roger, Wilco.
For my scrapbook.
All right.
Walk me home, shit pig?
I gotta get back to it.
Still a lot of inventory
to sort, so...
Got it.
All right. See ya.
Inventory to sort?
That was just sad.
I fucked up, didn't I?
Yeah. Big time.
Oh!
Shane! Oh, it's so good
to see you!
Mm!
Huh. What is going on here, huh?
Oh, where did
your little boy go?
I'm so glad that you're home
safe and sound.
Must've been awful over there.
Oh, it was a cakewalk, Mrs. C.
Kuwait wasn't a cakewalk.
He's being modest.
Two hundred and fifteen days
of rear echelon,
non-potable water distro.
Cakewalk City, BFE.
BFE?
Hey, Shane. Watch this.
Pretty good.
Hey, another beer, Judge?
Well, all right.
Wow.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
I don't think so.
Absolutely not.
Oh, come on.
No one ever got worked up
when I was 15.
He's 14.
You know that him and Moose
have been making their own.
I might've heard something
about that.
I'm glad you're gonna be keeping
an eye on him at the pool,
because he is one step away
from Nemaha Valley.
Oh, come on.
That place is a torture chamber.
He'd come out a robot.
He could use a little bit
of that straight and narrow.
You know, his father and I
are waiting to see
if there's an open slot
this fall.
Have you seen him
at the pool yet?
At the Snack Shack?
He is busting his butt.
He's totally dialed,
I'm telling you.
Hey there.
Hey.
Future BMOC.
What's all that business?
Sigma Chi handshake.
A little birdie said
someone's pledging.
Yeah, I guess that's the plan.
Ooh! That's a solid plan.
But the little birdie
did not mention a major.
I'm thinking maybe Poly Sci,
Econ. Who knows?
Well, just don't bury your nose
too deep in those books.
There's a lot of
extracurriculars at the house,
you feel me?
Yeah.
Law school?
Oh, still on my mind, Judge.
Still on my mind.
Good answer.
He's got an eye
on Northwestern.
Now, if you need a letter
of recommendation, anything,
you let me know.
Taking notes?
On what?
Everything.
Don't let 'em get you down,
Eagle.
You and Moose are OG as fuck.
They just don't know it yet.
Hey, at least your life
isn't mapped out to a for the next six years.
You really pledging
Sigma Chi?
Fuck no.
What's all this?
Oh. Asymmetric warfare.
Alaska. Next summer.
You want in?
I was planning on flying solo,
but I'd make an exception
in your case.
No, Jean'll never let me
go to Alaska.
Oh, don't worry about Jean.
I'll guilt her into it.
You got totally hosed
on Philmont last summer,
and she knows it.
Hit that fucker.
Mm.
Kenai. Kodiak.
Denali.
That's grizzly bear country.
You chickenshit?
Hardly.
So, what's something
like this cost?
You scrape together a grand
and you're in.
That'll cover park passes,
chow, gear...
bear spray.
I'll float gas,
everything else.
Are you serious?
As cancer.
Fourth of July
to August 9th, 1992.
What do you say?
You in or out, Eagle Scout?
In. Yeah. Big time.
All right.
What's that?
Am I doing this right?
Not really feeling anything.
Just give it a sec.
This is good KB from Iowa City.
Moose.
You feeling anything?
Hold this.
Thanks.
Yo, I think your boy's
a scratch on the poker game.
I think I am starting
to feel something.
Are you all in?
Eagle?
Are you all in?
Hey, Eagle.
All you all in?
Hey.
Buddy. Are you all in?
In or out, zombie.
I don't have all fucking night.
I still want to diddle your mom
before curfew.
Fucking smoke this chump.
He's bluffing.
Mm, we're totally fucked,
aren't we?
- Hey, shut the fuck up, Moose.
- Come on!
Shit or get off the pot!
All in.
My boy's all in.
A.J., this is literally
everything.
Full boat. Kings over eights.
Read it and weep, bitch.
Fuck!
Oh!
Holy fuck!
How the fuck
do you lose?
Hey, Randy,
I got something for you!
That's my fucking boy
right there!
Wait! Hold on! Here it is!
Fuck you!
Go fuck yourself, Moose.
How about that?
Pleasure doing business
with you boys. Thank you.
Go fuck yourself, Shane.
Fuck you! Fuck you!
Fuck you!
You're fucking walking home.
Whoo-hoo-hoo!
Yeah! Trying to punk on us!
Yeah!
Goddamn Eagle!
Suck my dick, bitch!
All right, hold on, bitches!
Gimme some fries.
Get out of here,
you fucking puke.
Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!
Chug! Chug! Chug!
Chug! Chug! Chug!
Hello?
Why the fuck
are you still at home, dude?
It's 9:30.
This fucker's packed.
The pool?
No shit, Sherlock!
Get your ass down here!
The Coke guy's dropping
the syrup tanks in five.
Okay, okay. I'm out the door.
Whoa! Do you have ice? Forgot.
What?
You gotta bring me ice, dude.
How am I supposed to bring--?
Fucking...
Get off the cooler, dipshit.
These bags are half water.
Slam this fucker.
Slam it.
Why is the slider down?
A.J., we're in.
Buck fifty in 20 minutes.
You fucking kidding?
No!
Calling it now.
Thousand-dollar day.
All right, animals.
Make some fucking lines.
Let's do this shit.
Who wanted the M&Ms?
Coke, please.
Four hunds, baby!
Yeah!
Nine-fifty, baby!
Nine-fifty?
Nine-fucking-fifty?
Nine-fifty?
Moose, I'm all out of ammo!
Last mag, homey.
Eleven hundred clams!
I never doubted you.
You know that, right?
Oh, you fucking doubted me
big-time.
Oh, shit. We got a tank down.
I'm on it.
Hey, shit pig.
Can you float me a Diet Coke?
Shit pig?
Uh, Moose. Diet Coke?
There you go.
Thanks.
Cute friend.
You fucking know
that chick?
Sixteen fifty
and thirty-five cents!
Holy fucking shit, dude.
Like I said,
I never doubted you, Moose.
What the fuck
are you doing?
It's Kojak in the waterfall,
right?
Kojak in the waterfall?
No, after the Aksarben order.
Coca-Cola. Chips.
Hot dogs. Buns. Ketchup. Ice.
This is you.
Thank you.
Drop it!
This is mine.
No. The money or the wing.
You cannot have both.
Fine.
It's all you.
Busted, creeper.
Get the hell out of here, chud!
God!
Nice wheels, douchebag!
Love the wagon,
shit pig.
I'll see you tonight.
You know it.
Hey.
Guess who just asked out
the new chick?
What? No.
Who? Brooke?
Is that her name?
Ah.
Night swim, baby!
Mm.
Better get the pussy fingers
limbered up, dude.
Fuck.
Here's the kicker, though,
so don't go getting
all worked up, okay?
I promised her
we'd double.
What?
Yeah, me and her, you and Leah.
I can't do it, A.J.
Just the thought of it
is making me dizzy.
It's okay.
I'll swim out and get you
if you freak.
I don't know.
It's so high up.
Hey, I bet you five bucks
I can swim over to the
high-dive board on one breath.
You're on, bitch.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Why you sad-sacking
in the five foot, shit pig?
I'm not.
Stop calling me that.
Shit pig.
Fuck yeah, girl!
That's a one and done!
I'm going for it, A.J.
Whoo!
- Ow.
- You okay?
What are you doing?
Jeez, my abdomen
still feels like it's on fire.
Hey, are you cold?
Do you want my shirt?
What? It's like 80 degrees out,
weirdo.
Okay. Stop!
Yo. Yo, guys. Get over.
What the fuck?
- Just back it up.
- Leah.
Come and jerk my nuts,
motherfucker!
- Fuck you, bitch!
- Fucking bitch!
Who the fuck?
Fucking pussies!
Oh, shit.
Fuck, dude,
they're doubling back.
Yeah, we'll fucking show them.
What?
Fuck.
Let's fuck 'em up.
What are you gonna do?
Don't worry about it.
Stay there one second.
All right.
Three, two, one.
Fuck you!
Shit, dude,
that's not the same car.
That's the car.
That's a fucking cop.
That's not a fucking cop.
Fuck, we gotta go.
We gotta go. We gotta go.
Guys, left.
Come on, this way.
This way. Leah, get down.
Come on.
5-7 Nebraska City. 10-59.
We have four...
A.J., this is scary.
I want to go home.
Okay.
Just stay here, okay?
A.J.
Moose?
Brooke!
Holy shit!
Look at all
these little fuckers, dude!
All right, back up.
Make some lines.
Make some fucking lines.
Goddamn.
Handle this shit, dude.
Give me a Butterfinger,
dickhead.
Give me a Chick-O-Stick
and suicide.
Can I get a Kit Kat?
Give me some Sugar Babies.
Got Fun Dip?
How many Freeze Pops for $1?
Yo, could I get a Twix,
a hot dog and a Sprite, please?
I'll take
a Butterfinger, a Kit Kat,
and a Diet Coke.
Can I have a hot dog?
Give me a hot dog, kid.
The fuck dogs,
they cost more?
Seventy-five cents more.
Cool.
Cool.
Heyo!
Hey! What do you want, kid?
Can I get a fuck dog?
Fuck dog?
Get the fuck out of here.
What's this goob
talking about?
Just write "fuck" on it
with ketchup.
Charge them 75 cents more.
That's fucking genius, dude.
Yes, I can get you a fuck dog.
Our markup's
already 80 percent, dude.
Fuck dogs!
Get your fuck dogs right here!
Fuck dogs!
Get your fuck dogs, fuckers!
Whoo!
You think you're on Carson?
Take it or leave it.
I'm not eating this shit.
Give me my money back.
No fucking way.
Fuck off, Moose.
Suck my dick, Carmichael.
We got a "no asshole" policy.
Check it.
Cute. Now give me back my buck.
Fuck you. Our Shack, our rules.
Last fucking chance, prep.
Or what?
You gonna pull me through
the window, Randy?
You fucking idiot.
Oh, fuck! Fuck! Moose!
Fucking fuck! Fuck!
Get the fuck off me,
you fucking--
Fuck! My face! You scratched
my fucking face, bitch!
All right, that's it.
That's it.
Ah! Fuck!
You and Hercules are Gandhi.
Rest of the fucking summer.
Fuck off! Just let go!
Hey, dick bag!
Oh!
Fucking nice one, Eagle.
Yo, Moose, grab me a rag.
All right, clean it,
Carmichael.
Suck my nuts!
Clean it.
There you go.
That was fucking epic, dude.
Shane was right, man.
Those guys are soft as fuck.
All right.
This'll cover supplies.
This is me.
This is you.
Fucking A.
Look at all this scratch.
Fifteen hundos right there.
But we better find a way
to hide some of this shit
if we want to fuck around
this fall.
The Judge and Jean don't have
any idea what we're pulling in.
Do they?
Hell no.
They think this whole thing's
a shit show.
Look, dude, I want
to pitch you an idea.
You can't pass, dude.
We're best friends.
We go 50/50 on every deal.
Moose, no.
It's a big-time pass,
I'm telling you.
I'm saving up for Alaska.
Alaska?
What the fuck
are you talking about?
Next summer.
It's a five-week trek.
Shane and I got the entire thing
mapped out.
You didn't clear that with me.
I don't need
to clear that with you.
Look, dude, all I'm asking for
is five minutes, okay?
Just hear what Willy has to say.
This thing's a sure shot.
We could triple
what we stick in...
Oh, shit--
That's what you get,
you fucking preps.
Why?
That's for the hot dog.
And this is for my Trans Am.
And here's a couple
for your fucking friend.
I still say they're soft
as fuck, dude.
What a couple of clits.
Moose, half your face
is nothing but blood.
Yeah, I know.
But we could take them
in a fair fight, dude.
I'm fucking serious.
They got lucky
with that ambush.
Tucson Electric. You coming?
It's your scene.
I'll stew on it.
All right, well, don't show
your parents the knot.
Yeah.
Hey, shit pig.
You paint?
What? Curbs?
Curbs?
No, bitch. Toes.
You're not very good at this.
That's because I'm used
to a Utilac spray.
Not this tiny little brush.
You okay?
You look a little wrecked.
Yeah, I'm all right.
So how come you've been flying
under the radar these days?
Guess I've just been busy
with work.
Busy, huh?
Mm-hmm.
Moose talk about me?
To me?
No. Not really.
I'm sure there are
a few embellishments.
Moose is fun.
Pretty good kisser.
But he's not really my type.
You know?
Sometimes it sucks
being a short-timer.
Soon as you make friends,
it's taillights.
I just want to have fun
this summer, you feel me?
Pass me that Minolta.
Now what?
Cotton balls, shit pig.
Who saved room
for banana cream pie?
I call the big piece.
Chrissy made
Dance Squad captain.
I have an announcement.
An announcement?
Mm-hmm.
That's 3,100.
That's the 16 that I owe,
plus another 15.
Give him the big piece.
Dad!
Zip it, Chrissy.
Also...
This is for you and Mom.
What is it?
Mannheim Steamroller
at the Orpheum.
Are you fricking kidding me?
Center aisle.
The third row.
Oh!
Goddamn it.
You're such a fucking puss.
I knew you were gonna
show your parents that knot.
What a waste. So, what are we
getting into tonight?
Huh?
It's Friday night.
Let's get sloppy.
Go walk Main.
No, I'm not really
feeling it, dude.
Not feeling it?
What are you, ragging?
No, I'm dog-assed tired, Moose.
I just want to sleep.
Oh, come on.
Don't be such a fucking pussy.
What?
Now you're hanging up?
- Hello? Carters.
- Hi, Mrs. C. It's Moose.
Jesus.
Ma'am? Yes, ma'am.
That there your husband
downstairs...?
Oh, Jesus!
Hey, shit pig. You awake?
What?
Nothing.
What are you doing?
What are you doing?
Yo, perverts! Get in.
Everyone's getting stupid
at the Pioneer.
Just get the fuck inside.
I thought you were staying in,
bitch.
Dog-assed tired, huh?
Cops! Fucking run!
- Oh, shit.
- Fuck!
Yo, Brooke, over here.
This way. Come here.
Moose, let's go.
Up here, come on, guys.
Come on.
Go, go, go, go, go!
Shit.
Guys, behind the screen.
Behind the screen. Come here.
Oh, fuck.
I don't do tight spaces.
Shut up.
We're about to get popped.
You don't understand.
I can't fucking breathe.
Both of you,
shut the fuck up.
Shh! Check it.
I can't fucking do this...
Moose, shut up.
I'm gonna freak.
- Stop fucking talking.
- Hey.
You don't think someone could
hide back behind that shit?
Oh... oh, fuck.
Shh!
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Here you go, kid.
What are you looking at?
Nothing.
What are you looking at?
Nothing.
This some kind of lover's spat?
What do you want, dude?
Top me off with DC.
Hey, go heavy on the ice, okay?
I'm fucking melting out here.
Here.
Give the deck a wet-down.
It's almost safety check.
No, hey.
You're not my fucking boss,
okay?
You do it.
Just get one of the goobs
to spray her down, you idiot.
I don't care.
You going to, uh,
the party tonight?
What party?
Brooke's party.
It's like 15 yards
from your front door, Eagle.
What is that shit?
Don't worry about it.
A jewelry box
from Martin's?
Really?
Look, dude, I know you think
you're tight with homegirl,
but she gave me a handjob
behind that screen last night.
- What?
- Yeah.
Dude, there's no fucking way.
Whatever, dude.
She totally jerked me off.
Fucking grade A too.
Honestly, I don't know how
you didn't hear it, man.
- You were right there.
- Yo, Moose.
Bring me a DP.
I got you.
One large Dr Pepper, please.
Yeah.
Lip thing.
Mister, you got a Nut Roll?
Fuck off, kid.
For you.
Oh, my God!
What do you think?
I love it.
Are you kidding with this shit?
My son is five.
Calm down, lady.
I'm not gonna calm down.
I demand to speak
with your manager.
I am the manager.
Bullshit.
You're bullshit.
Your fucking kid's bullshit too,
and you're both
making me nauseous.
Mommy, can I lick
the ketchup off the bun?
What the fuck?
Hey, hang tight, lady.
I'm gonna comp your boy's meal
a hundred percent.
Hey, shit pig. You okay?
- Yeah, I'm good.
- It's three o'clock.
Where the fuck are you going?
Just giving you space
for all your fucking handjobs!
Get in.
How's that runza?
All right, I guess.
Want some rings?
No, I want Moose to quit
rat-fucking me all the time.
When he's not busy shot calling,
he's swooping on my lady friend.
You want a little advice, homey?
What?
Make a move.
Any move.
Brooke isn't into Moose.
She's just waiting for you
to make a move, telling you.
You ever make a move?
Like on a lady friend?
Yeah.
Almost.
You gotta risk it
for the biscuit, Eagle.
For the record,
I didn't give Moose a handjob.
That was all in his head,
shit pig.
I grabbed both your dicks
because it was the only way
I could get you two pussies
to shut up.
I wasn't gonna get an MIP
for that shit.
Moose!
Moose!
Moose! Come on!
Come on, let's talk!
Moose! Come on, dude.
Come on.
Let's just fucking talk.
Get the fuck away from me.
I just got off the phone
with Parks & Rec.
No one's manning
the Snack Shack.
Are you going in?
I'm sick.
Well, what about Moose?
Hey.
Dude, what the fuck happened?
Take a wild guess.
Here.
You good with Tuesdays,
Wednesdays, and Saturdays?
What, like shifts?
Yeah.
We'll divvy up Sundays.
I'll get this one.
You get the next.
Moose!
Fuck.
Can I get a jumbo Push Pop?
Yeah.
Hey, shit pig.
How come you pulled
a Copperfield at the party?
I waited for you all night.
So you want to ditch
this pop stand
and go grab a twist
from Chompy Cone?
My treat.
No, thanks.
Come on, no one says no
to free ice cream.
Want to hear it again?
Wait, are you being serious
right now?
It's feeling like a negatory on
the biscuit front there, Eagle.
Where are you going?
Waubonsie.
Gonna polish off this case,
sleep under the stars.
I can't go to Iowa. I'm not
supposed to cross state lines.
Gonna call your mom
at the next truck stop,
tell her you're staying
with Moose.
What are you doing?
Not stopping till you say yes.
Come on, Shane.
Slow down, dude. Oh, shit!
Fuck! All right! I'm in, I'm in!
All right! There we go.
God!
You've been busting your ass
all summer.
It's time to fucking unwind.
Heads up, Eagle.
Yo, what happened
with you and Brooke?
You gonna spill or what?
She lied to me.
She lied to you?
Yeah.
I caught her red-handed.
Doesn't sound like homegirl.
She said that she waited for me
all night at the party.
And then I caught her hanging
on some fucking giant
out on the porch.
Flattop?
Yeah.
Green Duster?
Exactly.
What?
Oh, dude.
The jarhead's her brother.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Oh, fucking A, Eagle.
Just let me explain.
Come on.
No, thanks.
Brooke, come on.
Look, I didn't realize.
I know I fucked up.
Just please just listen--
No, thanks.
Want to hear it again?
Oh, can we get
some of this, Mom?
Sure. Just one.
What's up, A-Jams?
Hey, Shan.
Stop.
Isn't she a sophomore?
Junior.
So how did you
get to know her?
That's Donny's older sister.
Well, I would think
that you would--
Oh, my God, Jeanie!
You scared the heck out of me.
Sherry! How are you doing?
Oh, my God.
It's been forever, right?
It has.
I'm used to seeing
that big turkey.
Oh! Your hair.
I know.
It was time for a change.
Oh, it's so full.
Almost like a Kay Orr thing.
I love it.
Aw!
Thank you.
What's going on?
You guys get in a tiff at your
sleepover the other night?
What sleepover?
Really?
I don't know.
Happy early birthday, asshole.
Got you a little
something-something.
You want to lunch it
at Babe's?
How about a rain check?
I still gotta do
the whole backyard.
How's the weather over there?
Cloudy with a chance
of diaper shit.
Well, hang in there,
Eagle Scout.
I'll swing by later.
See if you want to get stupid.
Word. Thanks, homey.
Peace offering, shit pig.
For your box stall.
Wow.
I know.
It's probably
the only portrait of myself
I can actually stomach.
So...
Is anyone up
in this bitch?
Uh, no.
Sooey!
You ever make out
to Combat Shock?
Right at that moment,
I knew what had to be done.
It was all coming back to me.
A revelation
that hit me like a bullet.
Bullets.
This chick was armed.
I felt a tremendous power
surging through my veins.
Where's the gun?
I gotta tell you something.
So, no grass carping, okay?
Yeah. What?
My dad got his orders.
We're shipping out to Ramstein.
Ramstein?
Germany.
When?
Next week.
Next week? I...
You're grass carping.
I got a question.
Yeah?
Do you have a condom?
Oh, shit,
that's the Judge.
Awkward.
Maybe he's just
grabbing something.
Shh.
A.J.?
Hey, Dad, don't come in here!
Oh. Um...
We need to talk.
Downstairs.
See you, okay?
Yeah.
Nope, hold on. Come here.
Both of you.
What's going on?
Why are you being so weird?
Um...
I just got a call...
from Bill Workman
about a half hour ago.
There was an accident out on 75.
Shane got killed.
What?
I just saw him.
I'm sorry, son.
Get in.
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
Hey.
Hey.
Thought you said
that we were dry.
No, man, this is it.
Last two. I found a...
a sixer stashed
with the Christmas shit.
Mm. Nativity set?
Yeah.
I did pound
the other four, though.
That's fair.
Moose?
Are we cool?
Yeah, man.
We're cool.
Cool.
Fuck off, animals!
We're having a moment!
Fuck.
Oh, dude, I'm sorry
I punched you in the nose.
Oh, I... I didn't even feel it.
Yeah, okay.
Hmm.
All right, are you ready?
Yeah.
Yeah, let's make some dough.
Wait.
There's no glass on deck.
So look, man, I want
to pitch you a few ideas.
Yeah? What kind of ideas?
How we can double our return
on this bitch next summer.
Does it involve Real Beer?
Ooh!
Hundred percent.
Two fucking lines, goobs!
Give me two fucking lines!
Right now!
My turn! My turn!
- Hey.
- Hey.
Hey, what's going on?
Are you leaving right now?
Yeah. Sorry. I drove by the pool
but I couldn't find you.
What happened to Tuesday?
When the AF says jump,
he jumps.
In two minutes,
we're taillights.
Just gotta hit the head.
Roger, Wilco.
Two minutes?
Here.
Take it.
What is it?
Open it, dum-dum.
A hanky?
So you don't have
to borrow your dad's.
One more thing.
I, um... I printed it
last night.
We don't say "goodbye."
Just...
"see you later."
Let's move out.
Another keeper.
See ya, A.J.
See ya.
Here comes Lucky!
And they're off. Number 7,
Sandy's Rocket, out front.
Right behind him
by the three against the rail
as they head down
the front stretch...
Number 7, Sandy's Rocket,
in control now.
Down the backstretch...
Look at all this
fucking coin, dude.
A.J., where's the capper?
Shredded. Back in VIP.
Look who's Big Money in seven.
No fucking way, Moose.
Yes fucking way. We're red-hot.
Don't shit on our streak.
I'm not shitting on our streak.
You're shitting all over
our streak big time.
"Four runs and we bone out."
Those were your exact words.
Yeah, and Big Money in six
was a fucking game changer.
It's two o'clock.
It's five 'til.
Come on, we should bounce.
Pensacola's already halfway
through the post parade, pussy.
Dude, you're going rogue.
Because you're being a pussy.
Shut the f--
Y'all fixing to place a bet?
Just a sec, darling.
Come on, bitch. Look up there
and tell me who's Big Money.
Sweetchuck's our boy.
Sweetchuck? Fuck you.
Crowd's got wood
for Easy Does It.
The crowd goes home
in a body bag, okay?
Let's go straight bet.
No exotics. Let it ride.
Fuck you! We're up three bills.
I'm not letting it ride.
Now who's the pussy?
Get the fucking cab.
- All right.
- And they're off.
Gonna fuck it all up!
What the fuck, A.J.?
Sweetchuck hard-charging...
Pussy. Oh, fuck. Oh, my God.
He's breaking...
Run! Run! Run! Come on!
Now he's two lengths ahead.
Oh, shit! Here he comes!
Big money, money, money!
And it's Sweetchuck
at the wire!
Sweetchuck! Sweetchuck!
No, no, no, no!
Moose, our cab!
Some chud's ganking it.
Oh, fuck!
Now what are we supposed to do?
We're screwed.
Oh, what? You gonna run
across the river bridge?
A.J., it's the fucking
interstate!
Fuck!
Fuck!
Hey! Hey, buddy!
I got an easy 50!
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Stay in this lane!
You almost hit that car!
Fuck! Moose...
All right, I need you to punch
this shitbox, all right?
Moose, Moose...
Come on! Come on!
Where the heck
have you guys been?
We've been waiting
for 35 minutes.
We got stuck on the train
by the Bongo habitat.
Some kid had a grand mal seizure
and they shut it down.
What could we do?
Just get on the dang bus.
Hey, butt fuck!
You're both dead
if I'm late for practice.
What practice, Randy?
You do wrestling and football.
Yeah, it's fucking May, loser.
Fuck off.
All right, homeboy,
what are you feeling?
Benjys and Grants
or Jackies and Hams?
Why're you doing the lip thing?
I'm not doing a lip thing.
Makes you look like you're
prepping to suck an asshole.
No more wild-card shit.
You're breaking your own rules.
Fuck off,
don't be such a basket case.
Look at this epic
fucking split, dude!
Goddamn it, I want to epic split
your fucking mouth.
Yeah?
Why don't you try it, pussy?
Because every chaperone
on this bus
is fucking staring at us.
What?
Yo, question.
Yeah, dude?
Who'd you like in the 8th?
Hoo-hoo-hoo!
Ooh, what's the wort at?
Uh, it's at 69 degrees.
All right, let's pitch
the fucking yeast
and put her to bed.
Home sweet home.
Squeeze that airlock in.
Is that one leaking?
Brand-new tub.
How could it be leaking?
Let's check the pH
on the lagers.
Booyah. What are you feeling?
Let's go pilsner.
Cheers.
Cheers, dude.
Whoa.
Looks bright.
Spritzy.
Mm. Wow.
Yeah, I know, dude.
We fucking made that!
We made that!
This is, like, real beer.
Mm! Let's go with that.
What?
Real Beer. For the label.
I found a printer
in Tecumseh.
They can bang them out
for two cents a pop.
I dig it.
All right, so, look, man,
I want to pitch you an idea.
Okay, hit me.
It's time to expand
the operation.
All right, so look, dude,
we're sitting on a cash cow
with Real Beer.
Fifteen gallons a month
is baby stuff
compared to what we could do
if we scaled her up
to a buck twenty.
A hundred and twenty gallons?
A month, dude.
And we'll cash flow
our day-to-day ops
with our track winnings
until we get to a rhythm
where this thing
is running itself.
Moose, we haven't
even sold a single beer.
Yet. You gotta learn
to forecast, bitch.
Fuck!
We hit two matinees a week,
we're solid gold.
Two? We'd be lucky to scrounge
up a ride every two weeks.
Pause.
Don't worry about transpo.
Transpo's my turf.
And we'll circle back in a sec.
A huge part of this operation
is figuring out
the right foot soldiers
to bring in.
What do you think
of Jason Beaumont?
Dude, fucking kid's a narc.
He'd squeal for sure.
Yeah! I love your instincts!
That's why you're gonna run HR.
Handle all the recruiting.
Fuck!
That was a fucking neck shot!
Forecast.
You said no fucking necks.
So are we in agreement
that transpo's
our number one concern?
Hundred percent.
And until this operation's
got wheels,
if feels like it's dead
in the water.
Okay, hear me out.
Fuck, these are awesome.
Tom, we're good to go.
Kip Langer's older brother.
You know him?
Darian?
No, Darian's in Chrissy's class.
I'm talking about Gary.
With the lazy eye
and the gelled hair.
Oh, yeah. The DJ guy.
Yeah.
So he's got a limo thing
on the side, dude.
Like weddings and proms,
all that type of shit.
Thanks, Tom.
You know what?
Here's a little something
for you.
So obviously, his rates
are premium on the weekends,
because that's where
all the action is.
But Monday through Thursday
is a total fucking dead zone.
So I've got Gary locked in
at 25 bucks an hour,
plus we gotta float the gas.
But all he needs
is a three-hour heads-up.
So you want to take a limo back
and forth between Bluffs Run?
Yeah, twice a week.
It'd be like a C-note
per run, max.
That's it?
That's fucking it, dude.
It's actually
a really boss idea.
It's airtight, bitch.
I knew you'd be all over it.
This fucker's
double O-C too.
Huh?
Fucking limo, asshole.
It's got a 13-inch TV
with a built-in VHS.
Mini wet bar.
Motorola bag phone.
Why would we need
a bag phone?
In case we gotta move
on some shit
and we don't have time
to hit a payphone.
Look, stop fixating
on the bag phone.
Are you in or you out?
I'm in.
I'm in, yeah.
All right, I'll set it up.
Oh, buddy,
we're gonna be rolling
in so much fucking dough
this summer.
Yo, I'm home.
Mm, Mrs. C.,
these deer chops are banging.
What's going on?
How was the field trip, boys?
Oh, like the best ever.
Yeah, we got to hand-feed
the giraffes.
Yeah, the sucker was eating
right out of our palm.
Speaking of hands,
let me smell those hands.
Jesus, what?
No. Why?
Are you trying
to hide something from us?
Oh, he is. Big time.
No, no, I just don't want you
smelling my hands.
- It's weird.
- It's not weird.
It's just a set of hands, son.
Afraid we'll find out
about the cigarettes?
Cigarettes? We--
Mr. Rubenking said
he saw you and Moose
smoking cigarettes
in the VIP area
of I-80 OTB this afternoon.
I-80 OTB?
It's an off-track
betting parlor.
In Council Bluffs, Iowa.
Right across the river bridge
from the Henry Doorly Zoo.
Smoking cigarettes
and going berserk!
He emphasized "berserk."
And the damn neon shirts!
Awful quiet, Moose.
Did you get those fancy shoes
with your gambling winnings?
Guilty!
Moose...
Chrissy, go to your room.
No way.
In your room, young lady.
Ugh!
Witness stand.
No.
No, I'm not...
There's been
a pattern with you two.
An escalation.
A very dangerous escalation.
We're not escalating.
Illegally crossing state lines
to hang out at an off-track
betting parlor?
We're not hanging out.
We're working.
Working!
Oh, my God!
You're not a pro gambler!
Are you two doing dope?
Okay, no on the dope,
and no, I'm not gonna become
a professional gambler.
You two idiots are gonna end up
in a double funeral
or on the side
of a fricking milk carton.
Is it Moose? Is he the one that
talks you into this crazy stuff?
No, it's not Moose.
I came up with the system.
The system? What is the system?
A secret system
for big-money long shots.
You're 14 years old!
You don't have
a fricking system!
Dude, I am so fucking sorry.
The Judge started doing
the lip thing,
and I just fucking panicked.
Did you tell them
about the system?
They don't want to hear
about Big Money, Moose.
I'm grounded.
Banned from the track
and banned from Iowa.
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, dude.
This rat-fucks
our whole plan.
There is no plan.
We're done.
No more running free range.
They're shutting us down.
I've got one week
to find a legit job
before my mom goes
full-tilt DEFCON.
Full tilt? What do you mean?
Baseball.
Bible camp.
Weekends at her auction crew.
Fuck your mom's auction crew.
Shit pay.
Tell her we're not signing on
for three bucks an hour.
She made no mention
of hiring you.
We're a package deal, A.J.
You don't break up the band.
Look, just circle
the heavy hitters, okay?
Don't waste your time
with that entry-level slop.
I'm not.
Dude, don't worry.
Tomorrow after school,
we'll get some shit lined up.
Easy peasy.
All right?
See ya, pussy.
See ya.
What if we doubled
the batch?
And then had only
one foot soldier
instead of an entire roster
of guys to manage?
Fuck me, you really want
to hobby brew?
No--
Look, the company's fucked.
We're never gonna cash-flow
this thing with minimum wage
and suck-ass hours.
Excuse me.
Pass the sack.
I got dibs on that last one.
Fuck you.
The big boy's mine.
Give it to me.
It's my money,
it's my gizzard.
Fuck, dude. My neck!
Forecast.
Boom! Right in the breadbasket!
And you fuckstains
are no Mike Rozier.
Is it piss?
Straight from the tap,
sweet cheeks.
You two dip fucks better grow
eyes in the back of your head.
High school's gonna be
a fucking meat grinder!
It's open season, limp dicks.
You never know when,
you never know where.
Pussies!
Whoo!
You boys all right?
That's piss, ain't it?
Yeah, it's piss.
Holy shit!
Shane!
What the fuck?
So much for one
weekend a month, huh?
Shotgun.
No fucking way.
Get in the back, mutant.
What's up, Eagle?
Fucking A...
This is why you're in the back.
Hold on to your fucking tits.
Fuck the Carmichaels.
Don't let those pussies
run a psyop on you.
Rodney's a horror show, dude.
That Boz cut, those muscles.
I mean...
He's a fucking juicehead, Eagle.
He used to bitch out
when I wrestled him at 160.
Yo, Rambo?
Fucking waste anyone over there?
The whole thing was over
in a hundred hours, dipshit.
The only thing I wasted
was my freshman year.
The town's still covered
in yellow.
Maybe they'll give you
the keys to the city, dude.
Shit, I'd settle for the keys
to the Toddy Shop.
Old enough to die for Uncle Sam,
but still can't buy
a fucking sixer.
Yo, homey.
Do you want a beer?
Fuck!
Seriously?
You turds made this?
Yeah.
All right, so check it.
You gotta pour it like this.
And don't drink the stuff
on the bottom.
Copy that.
Moment of truth.
Well?
Goddamn, fellas.
It's not shit.
It's drinkable as fuck.
Drinkable as fuck!
Oh, yeah, dude!
That's going on
the fucking sticker for sure!
All, right, can we put you down
for a case?
Whoo!
Well, you know the rules.
No glass on deck.
Yes, sir.
The water's piss-warm, dude.
Yeah. Ron always cranks it
for the invitationals.
Hey, we need to bag
some summer jobs.
You think you can hook us up?
No.
It's not gonna fly.
You gotta be 16 to guard.
Ron might budge
on the Eagle Scout,
but definitely
not on you.
Well, fuck Ron. Fuck the pool.
Me and A.J. are a package deal.
Shit, you can ask the Bravo boys
if they need an extra hand.
With what?
They're planning on running
that thing this summer.
What thing?
That thing.
The Snack Shack.
So does their family,
like, own it or something?
No, Bravos don't own it.
City owns it.
Yo, toss me your keys.
I want to see
inside that fucker.
Don't have any.
Snack Shack's totally
separate from the pool.
Okay, so they rent it
from the city?
No, I think it gets bid out
through Parks & Rec.
Okay, how's that work?
I don't know, dude.
I think they bid it out
at the city council
meeting tomorrow.
How much the Bravos
throw down on that sucker?
Ask them. They're gonna be
at the sunken lot tonight.
Are you thinking
what I'm thinking?
That we hit the sunken lot,
dump some beer,
get intel on
the Bravo boys' bid,
then rat-fuck them at the city
council meeting tomorrow night.
Yo! Shit pig.
You all right?
Huh? Me?
Yeah. You, like,
having a fit or something?
Oh. It's just allergies.
It's like...
Allergies?
Grass, pollen, ragw--
Yeah, like the movie about
the kid in the plastic bubble?
No. No, it's not
like him at all.
I'm nothing like that.
Yeah, right.
Seriously.
Oh, God, you are
totally like him.
Sorry.
What is that?
My hanky?
Your hanky?
Oh, it's not mine.
It's actually my dad's.
Your dad loaned you
his fucking snot-rag?
Just temporarily.
Sorry, I'm not usually
like this.
I-I-I just took a Benadryl.
So...
Why are you doing that?
It's a free country, shit pig.
Close your mouth, you look like
a fucking grass carp.
God, I don't know why
Leah's so into you.
She made it out
like you were a real catch.
Oh. So you're, like,
Leah's cousin or something?
Doi.
And lucky me, she's only
35 miles south of Offutt,
so this shithole gets
to be my reality all summer.
Hmm.
Hey, what's the suicide rate
in this hick town?
Is that marijuana?
What? Are you allergic?
Oh, shit.
What is happening right now?
I just, uh...
It's dinner.
I should go.
I guess so.
See you around, shit pig.
Sooey!
So, how's the job hunt
coming along?
Mom, it's been like 48 hours.
Watch the sass back.
Mm, I got an auction
in two weeks.
Ordered you a medium
with the new logo, just in case.
It's polo style this year.
And salmon.
Mm! Chrissy's idea.
I designed them.
Have you thought
about mowing lawns?
Now that's an idea.
Are you kidding me?
This is me after one lawn.
Oh, come on, nothing a little
Benadryl couldn't level out.
God bless you.
Bless you.
This is Benadryl.
I'm the fricking poster boy.
No fricks.
No fricks.
Stuff it, Chrissy.
You stuff it.
Stuff it big time.
Zip it.
Hey, Mom, there's a study group
tonight for the Civics final.
Does it involve Moose?
No. It's over at Beaumont's.
There's a fella with a plan.
Such a go-getter.
Maybe you could tag-team
with his mowing business,
start some kind of lawn empire.
No. I don't want to start a lawn
empire with Jason Beaumont.
I just want to cram
for the Civics test.
Watch the sass back.
Ten p.m.
Ten?
Mom, come on, it doesn't
even start until eight--
Ten fifteen.
You're still grounded, buddy.
Eleven.
Here we go now.
Gonna let it go now.
We're gonna start now at 10,
10, we'll bring it up to 10:15.
We're taking the 10:15.
Hey!
All the way up to 11,
we're looking at 11.
- Eleven's too high. Grounded.
- Hey!
Bring it all the way back,
now 10:30, now 10:15.
10:15 it's gonna be,
and I'm giving you 10:15.
Sold now.
Sold!
Dude, I can't believe
we just dumped two cases.
Two cases is pussy.
Look at all these
college kids.
We gotta partner up
with some frats.
Get our foot soldiers
in UNL, UNO,
fucking Peru State.
Dude, we could be offloading 400
gallons of Real Beer a month.
Easy.
Hey, watch where you're going,
prep.
Sorry, dude.
What did you just fucking say?
We got a problem here?
There is so not a problem.
I didn't know
he was with you.
Sorry. It won't happen again.
Shane fucking Workman!
Oh, Bravos.
Right over there.
Okay, I've got this shit.
Hang back in the wings.
Hey, what's up, boys?
Who the fuck
are you assholes?
Moose Miller.
This is my associate, A.J.
We're the guys behind Real Beer.
Real Beer?
Yeah, that beer you're drinking.
Wh-- You made this?
Yeah, man.
We're still finalizing
the design on the logo,
but that next batch will look
as good as it tastes.
How old are you guys?
Fourteen.
Sixteen.
Almost fifteen.
Oh, yeah. I know this guy.
You're the judge's kid,
aren't you?
Yeah, he did our mom and dad's
divorce.
Huh?
I said your dad did
our mom and dad's divorce!
So, uh, we heard you guys
are renting the Snack Shack
out of the pool this summer.
Yeah. So what?
Well, Shane had mentioned
that you guys might need
some extra hands.
Nah, we're cool.
We can handle it ourselves.
It's probably a real
gravy train, huh?
We do all right.
Mm-hmm.
What's it cost to rent it out?
Three grand my ass.
They're bluffing, big time.
I don't know, dude.
A grand a month seems legit.
Chump change compared to what
the fucker could turn over.
Look, I say we go full tilt
on the Snack Shack.
What's the pH at?
It's a hair over 5.2.
All right.
I should go.
Jean'll kill me.
Fucker's definitely leaking.
It's not. Look, dude,
even if it took us all of June
to break even on the 3K,
it'd still tee us up right
in the sweet spot of the summer.
Fucking Fourth of July
to mid-August?
That's like six weeks
of straight Profit Town.
We can't cover three grand.
We're 1,600 bucks short.
Yeah? So, look,
I want to pitch you an idea.
The whole kit and caboodle?
Yeah. Yes... Yes, ma'am.
Take off those glasses.
Is there a problem here?
Goddamn.
I can't believe I let you
talk me into
this diaper shit, Moose.
Like I had to twist your arm at
18 percent, you fucking shyster.
Plus, you're the one
without a joint account, dude.
Why are we wearing suits?
We look like power players
that come in and cash out 2K
in a New York minute.
Oh, my God.
She's talking to the manager.
Dude, don't get your tits
in a ringer.
I bet it's just protocol
for any withdrawal over a grand.
No, that's Neil Bruning.
He's in bridge club
with my parents and his wife.
Bruning can't say shit, bitch.
It's not a joint account.
A.J.
Pretty chunky withdrawal for
a school day, don't you think?
We're entrepreneurs.
All right, last on the agenda:
the concession stand
out at Steinhart Pool.
Scooter, I understand
the bids are in?
Uh, just a single, Mike.
From Chris and Jeff Bravo.
To the tune of--
Hold on!
Hey, wait! Stop.
That is three thousand
and one...
USD.
Our bid for the concession stand
at the Steinhart Pool.
In singles?
Oh, it's a bit unorthodox,
but the council
will consider all bids,
proposed or otherwise.
Correct, Mr. Mayor?
Aye.
And the Bravos?
It looks like a check for...
$300.
Well, boys,
you've got yourself
a Snack Shack.
What the hell
were you two idiots thinking?
We have spent the last two hours
trying to track you down!
Where is that money?
Here, that's 400 right there.
- 400?
- Where's the rest?
I've got Bruning telling me you
drained your savings account.
This is tied
with the gambling, isn't it?
No, Mrs. C--
Shut the frick up!
We went down
to the city council meeting
and we bid on the Snack Shack
at Steinhart Pool, and we won.
You bid $2,000 on the Snack
Shack at the swimming pool?
Actually, we bid three.
And that money there
is for supplies and stuff.
Supplies and stuff?
Jean! Hand me that damn phone!
Hello? Carters.
Les?
I just found
a still in my basement.
The boys are making alcohol.
I thought his waterbed
had popped, but it was hooch.
Leaked out all the way
to the basement steps.
It's a science project.
Oh, bullshit!
Five bucks says they were gonna
peddle this shit to kids.
No.
No. No!
What is wrong with you?
Hey, Dad? Can I say something?
And our lucky 16th caller
will receive not one,
but two tickets to see
Mannheim Steamroller live
this September
at the Orpheum.
Again, that's 187-3348
for the studio line.
Coming up at the top
of the hour,
we've got the Ag Report,
followed by Party Line.
How could you?
That money was for college.
Or a car.
Mom...
Oh, man.
This place is wrecked.
It's a... It's a total shithole.
Yeah.
But it's our shithole.
Fuck.
Where's the fridge?
How the fuck should I know?
There's no fridge.
There's no microwave.
That's a double punch
to the dick.
Why is the floor
so fucking sticky? God!
And I'm pretty sure
that's rat shit.
All right, bitch.
Let's get to work.
We need this fucker
spick-and-span
in case some inspector comes
sniffing around. I'm serious.
Wait, wait, what the fuck
are you gonna do, Moose?
Are you for real?
Yeah.
I gotta handle
all the upper management shit.
Upper management?
Fucko, we're ten days out.
We don't have a candy
distributor locked.
No chips. No pop. No fridge.
No nuker. No fucking money.
What do you think I'm doing?
We're absolutely fucked.
No, we're not fucked.
My parents are gonna send me
to military school.
Calm the fuck down. No one's
going to military school.
All right, look, have a smoke.
Okay.
New deal. We gotta resurrect
one of the old schemes.
Make some quick cash
to float the first week.
You still holding any Utilac?
I think I've got ten cans.
Then we run Curbs-n-Candy.
With what candy, Moose?
Those Boy Scout chocolates.
Those Turtles.
No, that shit's pre-Webelos.
Who gives a shit?
It's not like some old bird's
gonna check the expiration date.
God.
You're subhuman.
You know that, right?
Oh, shit, dude.
I bet that's the Aksarben rep.
I left the payphone number
with some chick at corporate.
Just scrub the vermin shit,
okay?
I'll be back in a flash.
Again, Mrs. Havercamp,
we're talking a top-of-the-line,
aerosol-based Utilac 490.
Aesthetically, it is
a stunning, high-gloss finish.
Who are you with again?
SprayTech Industries, ma'am.
We specialize in aerosol-based
paint solution.
Wait, what is all this?
Oh, we'll paint your address
on your street curb.
No. I don't think so.
Well, then might we offer you
a delicious four-pack
of milk chocolate Turtles?
Yo, here's the sitch.
Homeboy's wanting to know
if we'd do two-fifty
and all this for the paint job.
Is that a bucket of golf balls?
Uh-huh.
Come on, have some dignity,
Moose.
No, dude, there are some
heavy hitters in here.
Pings, Callaways.
Fucking this dude's
clean as a whistle.
Okay.
I mean, I guess we could
go down to the golf course,
gank a couple empty three-packs
from the dumpster
behind the clubhouse,
dress them up like new.
Dude, we can flip those bitches
for five bucks a pop.
Yeah, okay, I'm in.
Alrighty, Willy.
Sold.
That's insane.
Yeah, true story.
Come on in.
Go on, take a seat.
Yo, dude.
Change okay?
Oh, yeah.
Count it, dude.
Uh, okay, I noticed
all these Wall Street Journals.
Jesus Christ.
Ah! You want to play the market,
huh?
Yes, yes. Big time.
Well...
I've got two words for you.
Tucson Electric.
Tucson Electric?
Come on, that geezer's brain
was totally pickled.
I don't think so, dude.
Willy's got the skinny.
You see all those WSJs?
Yeah, I saw them.
Half of them were yellow.
1985 yellow.
Fucking porch smelled like
a men's shelter.
He's throwing us a bone
'cause he digs our vibe, dude.
I'm telling you, we should think
about dumping like half our ROI
into Tucson Electric.
Moose!
We're running a bunch of schemes
to pay for the fuck-ups
on a job we haven't
even started yet.
Just keep an open mind, bitch.
Damn.
Hey.
Shit pig.
You're looking low.
Maybe this'll jazz things up.
What do you think?
It's hideous.
Oh, come on. It's solid gold.
Hold that sucker up.
Wait...
That's another keeper.
It tells a story.
Like an evolution.
An evolution?
Yeah.
Cool.
So, what's your name?
Whoa, shit pig.
Are you flirting with me?
Brooke?
Yo.
Gimme a ride to Chompy Cone?
Oh, yeah, sure. Hop in the Jeep,
girl. Buckle up.
Hi, A.J.
Hey.
Summer jobs in Hicksville.
Any ideas?
I don't do polo shirts
or visors.
I don't do polo shirts either,
so...
Hmm, you are flirting with me.
Oh, uh, can you swim?
Yeah.
Smell that?
On par with pussy.
Hey, you ever, uh, had a couple
boxes fall off the truck?
I don't know
what you're talking about.
Look, is your mom or dad around?
I need a Hancock
to square up on this invoice.
Nah, man, me and homeboy here
are 50/50 on this bitch.
I'm the one that set
everything up with Donna at HQ.
No shit.
Mm-hmm.
So check it,
so that's $350 right there,
but don't sweat the change.
Are you gonna be
our regular driver, Dean?
Yup. Thursdays around 11
if you got an order in.
All right, here's a little
something for you.
Seriously?
Yeah. Let me see that blade.
Hold on to this.
Bring it back if some peanut
M&M's ever fall off the truck.
You feel me?
What the fuck are you doing?
What do you mean?
We're still short,
and you're bleeding out Grants
to Dean the delivery guy?
Yeah, but watch how it
boomerangs back, bitch. Tenfold.
I don't want to watch it
boomerang back, Moose.
I want to get out
of the fucking hole.
Lip thing.
Look, there's a poker game
tonight at Duff Warfield's.
Fifty-dollar buy-ins.
We sweep that shit,
we're in like Flynn.
First week's covered.
And if we lose?
A.J., these guys are farm team.
We're talking sure shot.
Like taking candy from a baby.
You haven't even said shit
about the fridge yet.
You're welcome.
Yeah, it fucking reeks.
Where'd you get it?
Fusselman's.
Sucker's only five years old.
Can you believe
they'd dump this baby?
You got our fridge
from the funeral home?
Yeah. Nuker too.
Shit was a steal on Party Line.
Plus, they fucking delivered,
dude...
for a small fee.
Wait, what did you say?
Look, just get her stocked.
Okay? Anything chocolate
goes in the freezer.
I gotta move on some hot dogs
back at the IGA.
They practically give them away
when they're down to the wire.
Okay, I'll see you.
Wait...
Hey.
What's up, shit pig?
Those dance moves
are straight cringe.
Hmm.
So is this your little hovel?
Come on, give me a hand.
So...
Talk to your boy yet?
My... my boy?
Yeah, about getting me a job?
All right.
Show me an armpit tow.
On that skanky thing?
Relax, shit pig.
This doesn't mean
we're going steady.
Can you stop
calling me that?
Never.
This doesn't feel like
your first rodeo.
My daddy's an ex-PJ.
So I spent the last two summers
fishing airmen out of the pool
at Wright-Patterson,
just for shits and giggles.
Holy shit.
Well, I don't think I'm gonna
have to convince Ron.
See you tomorrow.
Roger, Wilco.
For my scrapbook.
All right.
Walk me home, shit pig?
I gotta get back to it.
Still a lot of inventory
to sort, so...
Got it.
All right. See ya.
Inventory to sort?
That was just sad.
I fucked up, didn't I?
Yeah. Big time.
Oh!
Shane! Oh, it's so good
to see you!
Mm!
Huh. What is going on here, huh?
Oh, where did
your little boy go?
I'm so glad that you're home
safe and sound.
Must've been awful over there.
Oh, it was a cakewalk, Mrs. C.
Kuwait wasn't a cakewalk.
He's being modest.
Two hundred and fifteen days
of rear echelon,
non-potable water distro.
Cakewalk City, BFE.
BFE?
Hey, Shane. Watch this.
Pretty good.
Hey, another beer, Judge?
Well, all right.
Wow.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
I don't think so.
Absolutely not.
Oh, come on.
No one ever got worked up
when I was 15.
He's 14.
You know that him and Moose
have been making their own.
I might've heard something
about that.
I'm glad you're gonna be keeping
an eye on him at the pool,
because he is one step away
from Nemaha Valley.
Oh, come on.
That place is a torture chamber.
He'd come out a robot.
He could use a little bit
of that straight and narrow.
You know, his father and I
are waiting to see
if there's an open slot
this fall.
Have you seen him
at the pool yet?
At the Snack Shack?
He is busting his butt.
He's totally dialed,
I'm telling you.
Hey there.
Hey.
Future BMOC.
What's all that business?
Sigma Chi handshake.
A little birdie said
someone's pledging.
Yeah, I guess that's the plan.
Ooh! That's a solid plan.
But the little birdie
did not mention a major.
I'm thinking maybe Poly Sci,
Econ. Who knows?
Well, just don't bury your nose
too deep in those books.
There's a lot of
extracurriculars at the house,
you feel me?
Yeah.
Law school?
Oh, still on my mind, Judge.
Still on my mind.
Good answer.
He's got an eye
on Northwestern.
Now, if you need a letter
of recommendation, anything,
you let me know.
Taking notes?
On what?
Everything.
Don't let 'em get you down,
Eagle.
You and Moose are OG as fuck.
They just don't know it yet.
Hey, at least your life
isn't mapped out to a for the next six years.
You really pledging
Sigma Chi?
Fuck no.
What's all this?
Oh. Asymmetric warfare.
Alaska. Next summer.
You want in?
I was planning on flying solo,
but I'd make an exception
in your case.
No, Jean'll never let me
go to Alaska.
Oh, don't worry about Jean.
I'll guilt her into it.
You got totally hosed
on Philmont last summer,
and she knows it.
Hit that fucker.
Mm.
Kenai. Kodiak.
Denali.
That's grizzly bear country.
You chickenshit?
Hardly.
So, what's something
like this cost?
You scrape together a grand
and you're in.
That'll cover park passes,
chow, gear...
bear spray.
I'll float gas,
everything else.
Are you serious?
As cancer.
Fourth of July
to August 9th, 1992.
What do you say?
You in or out, Eagle Scout?
In. Yeah. Big time.
All right.
What's that?
Am I doing this right?
Not really feeling anything.
Just give it a sec.
This is good KB from Iowa City.
Moose.
You feeling anything?
Hold this.
Thanks.
Yo, I think your boy's
a scratch on the poker game.
I think I am starting
to feel something.
Are you all in?
Eagle?
Are you all in?
Hey, Eagle.
All you all in?
Hey.
Buddy. Are you all in?
In or out, zombie.
I don't have all fucking night.
I still want to diddle your mom
before curfew.
Fucking smoke this chump.
He's bluffing.
Mm, we're totally fucked,
aren't we?
- Hey, shut the fuck up, Moose.
- Come on!
Shit or get off the pot!
All in.
My boy's all in.
A.J., this is literally
everything.
Full boat. Kings over eights.
Read it and weep, bitch.
Fuck!
Oh!
Holy fuck!
How the fuck
do you lose?
Hey, Randy,
I got something for you!
That's my fucking boy
right there!
Wait! Hold on! Here it is!
Fuck you!
Go fuck yourself, Moose.
How about that?
Pleasure doing business
with you boys. Thank you.
Go fuck yourself, Shane.
Fuck you! Fuck you!
Fuck you!
You're fucking walking home.
Whoo-hoo-hoo!
Yeah! Trying to punk on us!
Yeah!
Goddamn Eagle!
Suck my dick, bitch!
All right, hold on, bitches!
Gimme some fries.
Get out of here,
you fucking puke.
Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!
Chug! Chug! Chug!
Chug! Chug! Chug!
Hello?
Why the fuck
are you still at home, dude?
It's 9:30.
This fucker's packed.
The pool?
No shit, Sherlock!
Get your ass down here!
The Coke guy's dropping
the syrup tanks in five.
Okay, okay. I'm out the door.
Whoa! Do you have ice? Forgot.
What?
You gotta bring me ice, dude.
How am I supposed to bring--?
Fucking...
Get off the cooler, dipshit.
These bags are half water.
Slam this fucker.
Slam it.
Why is the slider down?
A.J., we're in.
Buck fifty in 20 minutes.
You fucking kidding?
No!
Calling it now.
Thousand-dollar day.
All right, animals.
Make some fucking lines.
Let's do this shit.
Who wanted the M&Ms?
Coke, please.
Four hunds, baby!
Yeah!
Nine-fifty, baby!
Nine-fifty?
Nine-fucking-fifty?
Nine-fifty?
Moose, I'm all out of ammo!
Last mag, homey.
Eleven hundred clams!
I never doubted you.
You know that, right?
Oh, you fucking doubted me
big-time.
Oh, shit. We got a tank down.
I'm on it.
Hey, shit pig.
Can you float me a Diet Coke?
Shit pig?
Uh, Moose. Diet Coke?
There you go.
Thanks.
Cute friend.
You fucking know
that chick?
Sixteen fifty
and thirty-five cents!
Holy fucking shit, dude.
Like I said,
I never doubted you, Moose.
What the fuck
are you doing?
It's Kojak in the waterfall,
right?
Kojak in the waterfall?
No, after the Aksarben order.
Coca-Cola. Chips.
Hot dogs. Buns. Ketchup. Ice.
This is you.
Thank you.
Drop it!
This is mine.
No. The money or the wing.
You cannot have both.
Fine.
It's all you.
Busted, creeper.
Get the hell out of here, chud!
God!
Nice wheels, douchebag!
Love the wagon,
shit pig.
I'll see you tonight.
You know it.
Hey.
Guess who just asked out
the new chick?
What? No.
Who? Brooke?
Is that her name?
Ah.
Night swim, baby!
Mm.
Better get the pussy fingers
limbered up, dude.
Fuck.
Here's the kicker, though,
so don't go getting
all worked up, okay?
I promised her
we'd double.
What?
Yeah, me and her, you and Leah.
I can't do it, A.J.
Just the thought of it
is making me dizzy.
It's okay.
I'll swim out and get you
if you freak.
I don't know.
It's so high up.
Hey, I bet you five bucks
I can swim over to the
high-dive board on one breath.
You're on, bitch.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Why you sad-sacking
in the five foot, shit pig?
I'm not.
Stop calling me that.
Shit pig.
Fuck yeah, girl!
That's a one and done!
I'm going for it, A.J.
Whoo!
- Ow.
- You okay?
What are you doing?
Jeez, my abdomen
still feels like it's on fire.
Hey, are you cold?
Do you want my shirt?
What? It's like 80 degrees out,
weirdo.
Okay. Stop!
Yo. Yo, guys. Get over.
What the fuck?
- Just back it up.
- Leah.
Come and jerk my nuts,
motherfucker!
- Fuck you, bitch!
- Fucking bitch!
Who the fuck?
Fucking pussies!
Oh, shit.
Fuck, dude,
they're doubling back.
Yeah, we'll fucking show them.
What?
Fuck.
Let's fuck 'em up.
What are you gonna do?
Don't worry about it.
Stay there one second.
All right.
Three, two, one.
Fuck you!
Shit, dude,
that's not the same car.
That's the car.
That's a fucking cop.
That's not a fucking cop.
Fuck, we gotta go.
We gotta go. We gotta go.
Guys, left.
Come on, this way.
This way. Leah, get down.
Come on.
5-7 Nebraska City. 10-59.
We have four...
A.J., this is scary.
I want to go home.
Okay.
Just stay here, okay?
A.J.
Moose?
Brooke!
Holy shit!
Look at all
these little fuckers, dude!
All right, back up.
Make some lines.
Make some fucking lines.
Goddamn.
Handle this shit, dude.
Give me a Butterfinger,
dickhead.
Give me a Chick-O-Stick
and suicide.
Can I get a Kit Kat?
Give me some Sugar Babies.
Got Fun Dip?
How many Freeze Pops for $1?
Yo, could I get a Twix,
a hot dog and a Sprite, please?
I'll take
a Butterfinger, a Kit Kat,
and a Diet Coke.
Can I have a hot dog?
Give me a hot dog, kid.
The fuck dogs,
they cost more?
Seventy-five cents more.
Cool.
Cool.
Heyo!
Hey! What do you want, kid?
Can I get a fuck dog?
Fuck dog?
Get the fuck out of here.
What's this goob
talking about?
Just write "fuck" on it
with ketchup.
Charge them 75 cents more.
That's fucking genius, dude.
Yes, I can get you a fuck dog.
Our markup's
already 80 percent, dude.
Fuck dogs!
Get your fuck dogs right here!
Fuck dogs!
Get your fuck dogs, fuckers!
Whoo!
You think you're on Carson?
Take it or leave it.
I'm not eating this shit.
Give me my money back.
No fucking way.
Fuck off, Moose.
Suck my dick, Carmichael.
We got a "no asshole" policy.
Check it.
Cute. Now give me back my buck.
Fuck you. Our Shack, our rules.
Last fucking chance, prep.
Or what?
You gonna pull me through
the window, Randy?
You fucking idiot.
Oh, fuck! Fuck! Moose!
Fucking fuck! Fuck!
Get the fuck off me,
you fucking--
Fuck! My face! You scratched
my fucking face, bitch!
All right, that's it.
That's it.
Ah! Fuck!
You and Hercules are Gandhi.
Rest of the fucking summer.
Fuck off! Just let go!
Hey, dick bag!
Oh!
Fucking nice one, Eagle.
Yo, Moose, grab me a rag.
All right, clean it,
Carmichael.
Suck my nuts!
Clean it.
There you go.
That was fucking epic, dude.
Shane was right, man.
Those guys are soft as fuck.
All right.
This'll cover supplies.
This is me.
This is you.
Fucking A.
Look at all this scratch.
Fifteen hundos right there.
But we better find a way
to hide some of this shit
if we want to fuck around
this fall.
The Judge and Jean don't have
any idea what we're pulling in.
Do they?
Hell no.
They think this whole thing's
a shit show.
Look, dude, I want
to pitch you an idea.
You can't pass, dude.
We're best friends.
We go 50/50 on every deal.
Moose, no.
It's a big-time pass,
I'm telling you.
I'm saving up for Alaska.
Alaska?
What the fuck
are you talking about?
Next summer.
It's a five-week trek.
Shane and I got the entire thing
mapped out.
You didn't clear that with me.
I don't need
to clear that with you.
Look, dude, all I'm asking for
is five minutes, okay?
Just hear what Willy has to say.
This thing's a sure shot.
We could triple
what we stick in...
Oh, shit--
That's what you get,
you fucking preps.
Why?
That's for the hot dog.
And this is for my Trans Am.
And here's a couple
for your fucking friend.
I still say they're soft
as fuck, dude.
What a couple of clits.
Moose, half your face
is nothing but blood.
Yeah, I know.
But we could take them
in a fair fight, dude.
I'm fucking serious.
They got lucky
with that ambush.
Tucson Electric. You coming?
It's your scene.
I'll stew on it.
All right, well, don't show
your parents the knot.
Yeah.
Hey, shit pig.
You paint?
What? Curbs?
Curbs?
No, bitch. Toes.
You're not very good at this.
That's because I'm used
to a Utilac spray.
Not this tiny little brush.
You okay?
You look a little wrecked.
Yeah, I'm all right.
So how come you've been flying
under the radar these days?
Guess I've just been busy
with work.
Busy, huh?
Mm-hmm.
Moose talk about me?
To me?
No. Not really.
I'm sure there are
a few embellishments.
Moose is fun.
Pretty good kisser.
But he's not really my type.
You know?
Sometimes it sucks
being a short-timer.
Soon as you make friends,
it's taillights.
I just want to have fun
this summer, you feel me?
Pass me that Minolta.
Now what?
Cotton balls, shit pig.
Who saved room
for banana cream pie?
I call the big piece.
Chrissy made
Dance Squad captain.
I have an announcement.
An announcement?
Mm-hmm.
That's 3,100.
That's the 16 that I owe,
plus another 15.
Give him the big piece.
Dad!
Zip it, Chrissy.
Also...
This is for you and Mom.
What is it?
Mannheim Steamroller
at the Orpheum.
Are you fricking kidding me?
Center aisle.
The third row.
Oh!
Goddamn it.
You're such a fucking puss.
I knew you were gonna
show your parents that knot.
What a waste. So, what are we
getting into tonight?
Huh?
It's Friday night.
Let's get sloppy.
Go walk Main.
No, I'm not really
feeling it, dude.
Not feeling it?
What are you, ragging?
No, I'm dog-assed tired, Moose.
I just want to sleep.
Oh, come on.
Don't be such a fucking pussy.
What?
Now you're hanging up?
- Hello? Carters.
- Hi, Mrs. C. It's Moose.
Jesus.
Ma'am? Yes, ma'am.
That there your husband
downstairs...?
Oh, Jesus!
Hey, shit pig. You awake?
What?
Nothing.
What are you doing?
What are you doing?
Yo, perverts! Get in.
Everyone's getting stupid
at the Pioneer.
Just get the fuck inside.
I thought you were staying in,
bitch.
Dog-assed tired, huh?
Cops! Fucking run!
- Oh, shit.
- Fuck!
Yo, Brooke, over here.
This way. Come here.
Moose, let's go.
Up here, come on, guys.
Come on.
Go, go, go, go, go!
Shit.
Guys, behind the screen.
Behind the screen. Come here.
Oh, fuck.
I don't do tight spaces.
Shut up.
We're about to get popped.
You don't understand.
I can't fucking breathe.
Both of you,
shut the fuck up.
Shh! Check it.
I can't fucking do this...
Moose, shut up.
I'm gonna freak.
- Stop fucking talking.
- Hey.
You don't think someone could
hide back behind that shit?
Oh... oh, fuck.
Shh!
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Here you go, kid.
What are you looking at?
Nothing.
What are you looking at?
Nothing.
This some kind of lover's spat?
What do you want, dude?
Top me off with DC.
Hey, go heavy on the ice, okay?
I'm fucking melting out here.
Here.
Give the deck a wet-down.
It's almost safety check.
No, hey.
You're not my fucking boss,
okay?
You do it.
Just get one of the goobs
to spray her down, you idiot.
I don't care.
You going to, uh,
the party tonight?
What party?
Brooke's party.
It's like 15 yards
from your front door, Eagle.
What is that shit?
Don't worry about it.
A jewelry box
from Martin's?
Really?
Look, dude, I know you think
you're tight with homegirl,
but she gave me a handjob
behind that screen last night.
- What?
- Yeah.
Dude, there's no fucking way.
Whatever, dude.
She totally jerked me off.
Fucking grade A too.
Honestly, I don't know how
you didn't hear it, man.
- You were right there.
- Yo, Moose.
Bring me a DP.
I got you.
One large Dr Pepper, please.
Yeah.
Lip thing.
Mister, you got a Nut Roll?
Fuck off, kid.
For you.
Oh, my God!
What do you think?
I love it.
Are you kidding with this shit?
My son is five.
Calm down, lady.
I'm not gonna calm down.
I demand to speak
with your manager.
I am the manager.
Bullshit.
You're bullshit.
Your fucking kid's bullshit too,
and you're both
making me nauseous.
Mommy, can I lick
the ketchup off the bun?
What the fuck?
Hey, hang tight, lady.
I'm gonna comp your boy's meal
a hundred percent.
Hey, shit pig. You okay?
- Yeah, I'm good.
- It's three o'clock.
Where the fuck are you going?
Just giving you space
for all your fucking handjobs!
Get in.
How's that runza?
All right, I guess.
Want some rings?
No, I want Moose to quit
rat-fucking me all the time.
When he's not busy shot calling,
he's swooping on my lady friend.
You want a little advice, homey?
What?
Make a move.
Any move.
Brooke isn't into Moose.
She's just waiting for you
to make a move, telling you.
You ever make a move?
Like on a lady friend?
Yeah.
Almost.
You gotta risk it
for the biscuit, Eagle.
For the record,
I didn't give Moose a handjob.
That was all in his head,
shit pig.
I grabbed both your dicks
because it was the only way
I could get you two pussies
to shut up.
I wasn't gonna get an MIP
for that shit.
Moose!
Moose!
Moose! Come on!
Come on, let's talk!
Moose! Come on, dude.
Come on.
Let's just fucking talk.
Get the fuck away from me.
I just got off the phone
with Parks & Rec.
No one's manning
the Snack Shack.
Are you going in?
I'm sick.
Well, what about Moose?
Hey.
Dude, what the fuck happened?
Take a wild guess.
Here.
You good with Tuesdays,
Wednesdays, and Saturdays?
What, like shifts?
Yeah.
We'll divvy up Sundays.
I'll get this one.
You get the next.
Moose!
Fuck.
Can I get a jumbo Push Pop?
Yeah.
Hey, shit pig.
How come you pulled
a Copperfield at the party?
I waited for you all night.
So you want to ditch
this pop stand
and go grab a twist
from Chompy Cone?
My treat.
No, thanks.
Come on, no one says no
to free ice cream.
Want to hear it again?
Wait, are you being serious
right now?
It's feeling like a negatory on
the biscuit front there, Eagle.
Where are you going?
Waubonsie.
Gonna polish off this case,
sleep under the stars.
I can't go to Iowa. I'm not
supposed to cross state lines.
Gonna call your mom
at the next truck stop,
tell her you're staying
with Moose.
What are you doing?
Not stopping till you say yes.
Come on, Shane.
Slow down, dude. Oh, shit!
Fuck! All right! I'm in, I'm in!
All right! There we go.
God!
You've been busting your ass
all summer.
It's time to fucking unwind.
Heads up, Eagle.
Yo, what happened
with you and Brooke?
You gonna spill or what?
She lied to me.
She lied to you?
Yeah.
I caught her red-handed.
Doesn't sound like homegirl.
She said that she waited for me
all night at the party.
And then I caught her hanging
on some fucking giant
out on the porch.
Flattop?
Yeah.
Green Duster?
Exactly.
What?
Oh, dude.
The jarhead's her brother.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Oh, fucking A, Eagle.
Just let me explain.
Come on.
No, thanks.
Brooke, come on.
Look, I didn't realize.
I know I fucked up.
Just please just listen--
No, thanks.
Want to hear it again?
Oh, can we get
some of this, Mom?
Sure. Just one.
What's up, A-Jams?
Hey, Shan.
Stop.
Isn't she a sophomore?
Junior.
So how did you
get to know her?
That's Donny's older sister.
Well, I would think
that you would--
Oh, my God, Jeanie!
You scared the heck out of me.
Sherry! How are you doing?
Oh, my God.
It's been forever, right?
It has.
I'm used to seeing
that big turkey.
Oh! Your hair.
I know.
It was time for a change.
Oh, it's so full.
Almost like a Kay Orr thing.
I love it.
Aw!
Thank you.
What's going on?
You guys get in a tiff at your
sleepover the other night?
What sleepover?
Really?
I don't know.
Happy early birthday, asshole.
Got you a little
something-something.
You want to lunch it
at Babe's?
How about a rain check?
I still gotta do
the whole backyard.
How's the weather over there?
Cloudy with a chance
of diaper shit.
Well, hang in there,
Eagle Scout.
I'll swing by later.
See if you want to get stupid.
Word. Thanks, homey.
Peace offering, shit pig.
For your box stall.
Wow.
I know.
It's probably
the only portrait of myself
I can actually stomach.
So...
Is anyone up
in this bitch?
Uh, no.
Sooey!
You ever make out
to Combat Shock?
Right at that moment,
I knew what had to be done.
It was all coming back to me.
A revelation
that hit me like a bullet.
Bullets.
This chick was armed.
I felt a tremendous power
surging through my veins.
Where's the gun?
I gotta tell you something.
So, no grass carping, okay?
Yeah. What?
My dad got his orders.
We're shipping out to Ramstein.
Ramstein?
Germany.
When?
Next week.
Next week? I...
You're grass carping.
I got a question.
Yeah?
Do you have a condom?
Oh, shit,
that's the Judge.
Awkward.
Maybe he's just
grabbing something.
Shh.
A.J.?
Hey, Dad, don't come in here!
Oh. Um...
We need to talk.
Downstairs.
See you, okay?
Yeah.
Nope, hold on. Come here.
Both of you.
What's going on?
Why are you being so weird?
Um...
I just got a call...
from Bill Workman
about a half hour ago.
There was an accident out on 75.
Shane got killed.
What?
I just saw him.
I'm sorry, son.
Get in.
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
Hey.
Hey.
Thought you said
that we were dry.
No, man, this is it.
Last two. I found a...
a sixer stashed
with the Christmas shit.
Mm. Nativity set?
Yeah.
I did pound
the other four, though.
That's fair.
Moose?
Are we cool?
Yeah, man.
We're cool.
Cool.
Fuck off, animals!
We're having a moment!
Fuck.
Oh, dude, I'm sorry
I punched you in the nose.
Oh, I... I didn't even feel it.
Yeah, okay.
Hmm.
All right, are you ready?
Yeah.
Yeah, let's make some dough.
Wait.
There's no glass on deck.
So look, man, I want
to pitch you a few ideas.
Yeah? What kind of ideas?
How we can double our return
on this bitch next summer.
Does it involve Real Beer?
Ooh!
Hundred percent.
Two fucking lines, goobs!
Give me two fucking lines!
Right now!
My turn! My turn!
- Hey.
- Hey.
Hey, what's going on?
Are you leaving right now?
Yeah. Sorry. I drove by the pool
but I couldn't find you.
What happened to Tuesday?
When the AF says jump,
he jumps.
In two minutes,
we're taillights.
Just gotta hit the head.
Roger, Wilco.
Two minutes?
Here.
Take it.
What is it?
Open it, dum-dum.
A hanky?
So you don't have
to borrow your dad's.
One more thing.
I, um... I printed it
last night.
We don't say "goodbye."
Just...
"see you later."
Let's move out.
Another keeper.
See ya, A.J.
See ya.