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Class Page #6
- R
- Year:
- 1983
- 98 min
- 663 Views
Jesus Christ.
You'd better go, Jonathon.
Um, room service. It's room 101 7. I'd like
a bottle of vodka sent up right away.
- Oh, that'll really help, won't it?
- Yes, it will, Jonathon.
A damn sight more than you will. 101 7.
I asked you to go.
You can't call me any more.
I know.
I won't.
I'm sorry.
Hold me.
- Are you sure it'll be all right?
- Trust me.
He is in serious trouble. He's forgotten
the meaning of the word ''debauchery''.
This is gonna be great.
Bet you've never been
with guys as crazy as us.
- Sure he's in here?
- Yeah, man, I told you, I followed him.
Shh!
Shh. Shh. Are you ready? Shh.
(Skip mouths)
Room service!
(knocking)
Room service!
- Oh, I'm sorry.
- Sh*t.
- Skip.
Skipper.
Jonathon, aren't you going to
introduce your friend?
She got any sisters, Jonathon?
- (girl #1 ) Well, that was a short party!
- (girl #2) Yeah!
Would you please... excuse me?
Skip! Skip!
(man) Lights out!
Look, Skip...
Skip, come on. Look, Skip,
I didn't know who she was.
I'm really sorry.
I'm sorry.
Come on... Do you think
Hey, there's nothin' to talk about.
I told you, a f*** is just a f***.
OK.
Urgh!
What's your problem, Skip?
Argh! Damn you!
- Get outta my way!
- Cheap play, Burroughs! I'm warnin' you!
- What the hell is goin' on there?
- I don't know.
Son of a b*tch!
I'll fix your ass for you!
(whistle blows)
Burroughs, you bastard.
Watch the language! Burroughs,
I've had it with you. Get outta here!
- Yeah, let's go!
- (squawking laughter)
- Hey, man.
- (boy squawks) Bye-bye!
Take a cold shower!
- Mr Burroughs.
- Hello, Jonathon.
- How are you?
- Fine. You know when Skip'll be back?
Uh, he should be back soon.
How've you been?
Good.
Pretty busy?
How's your social life?
Girlfriends?
No?
OK, sir. Come on, let's get it over with.
I can't take this.
What are you talkin' about?
What am I talkin' about?
What are you doing here?
- Sure.
What's wrong?
Your mother's in the hospital, son.
She checked herself in three days ago.
She felt she needed psychiatric help.
She's getting it.
You don't seem surprised.
- What do you want me to say?
- What kind of attitude is that?
It's not an attitude. If she thinks that
she needs help, then she should get it.
Face it, Dad,
we're just a f***ed-up family.
That's the guy. That's the narc.
Gentlemen, I am going to need your help.
This is Mr Balaban. He is from
the state attorney general's office,
and he is presently conducting an
investigation of the schools in our area.
Apparently, there has been some
widespread cheating on the SAT tests.
I hope that Mr Balaban is wrong about
Vernon Academy, but nonetheless,
we are going to give him
our full cooperation.
- You're dead, Roger!
- A**hole!
- You stupid sh*t!
- A narc, huh?
- You a**hole!
- I flushed $300 down the goddamn toilet!
So, this is a real
pain-in-the-ass way to meet, isn't it?
- I hear you're already headed to Harvard.
- Yes.
You got a near-perfect score
on your SAT test.
Very impressive. Normally
I would've suspected you right away.
Right away.
But you've been a straight-A student
all your life, so...
the only conclusion I can draw is,
either you're innocent,
or you've been stealing tests
since you were in nursery school.
I guess we better get down to business.
I'm gonna have to
ask you some questions.
Do you have any knowledge
No, sir.
No, sir.
Thank you.
They kept Ostroff for an hour and a half.
- Powers! What a jerk-off!
He didn't cheat, but he's so scared he
confessed to smokin', goin' off campus,
- and spyin' on Kennedy's wife in the can.
- Oh, man!
Well, I tell you somethin',
it'll take more than some fag from the
attorney general's office to open my lips.
Yeah! Two fags!
F*** you, Roscoe! Wait till you
get in there, you'll be Jell-O guts.
How you doin'?
You heard from Harvard.
Hey.
Congratulations.
(narrator) Seldom seen by civilised man,
captured by our camera...
(shouting)
- Shut the projector off, please.
- (booing)
More bodies for the inquisition,
Mr Maybaum?
Yes, ma'am.
Mr Simons and Mr Burroughs,
you are today's lucky winners.
- Thank you, ma'am.
- Sh*t.
I know we're supposed
to give our full cooperation
to this stupid and pointless investigation,
but when they interrupt
one of my classes,
it pisses me off.
(boy) This is now my favourite class.
Come in. Sit down.
Squire.
So, this is a real
pain-in-the-ass way to meet, isn't it?
I see you, uh... applied to Harvard.
I'm an NYU man myself.
I... worked my way through.
Got a very high score on your SAT.
''Burroughs''.
You're not by any chance related to the
Burroughs who's on the board of AT&T?
Daddy.
Really?
Ha-ha. I would imagine that the pressure
to get into Harvard must be very intense.
Your grades weren't bad.
Your grades were all right.
But it was the SAT score that got you in.
I don't wanna put you through this.
But we've all done things
that we're ashamed of.
Things that we have to live with.
Sometimes painfully.
Because only occasionally...
does the opportunity present itself
to rectify our mistakes.
And with that said, I guess
we should get down to business.
Do you have any knowledge
Mr Burroughs,
where do you think you're going?
F*** you.
- He really said ''F*** you''?
- He looked him straight in the eye,
- said it, and walked out.
- All right!
I couldn't believe it!
- He told Balaban to go f*** himself.
- No sh*t?
- He told Balaban to go f*** himself!
- Burroughs told Balaban to f*** himself!
Hey! Skip!
Good job!
Skip!
Come on.
Why didn't you turn me in? Huh?
You don't talk to me. You save my ass,
but you don't talk to me.
Well, thanks, buddy. Maybe I'll do
the same for you sometime, huh?
for Mr Perfect, though?
Hey, I got it. I'll drop dead.
Wouldn't that be nice, huh?
I could shoot myself. No, you shoot me
and mount my head next to the moose.
You could stretch the panties between
my ears. Come on, you'd love that!
How the hell was I supposed to know
who she was? You sent me to the bar.
You send her there to get laid, too?
You son of a b*tch. You went back there
even after you knew who she was.
Goddammit, you're gonna talk to me!
Oh, get away from me!
Get away from me, you...
OK, you wanna talk? You wanna
f***ing talk, you lying son of a b*tch?
You bastard! Come on! Come on!
- I'm sorry, man.
- Come on, let's go!
Come on.
- Cut it out!
- I'm gonna kick your f***in' ass!
Come on. Cut it out.
Argh! Sh*t!
Stay away from me!
Argh! F***!
Skip?
Skip?
F***!
You son of a b*tch!
Come on!
- God damn you!
- Oh, just back off!
- Truce!
- Truce, sh*t!
I never would've seen her again.
She kept callin' me.
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"Class" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/class_5632>.
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