Detention Page #3

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...I'm a total loser making preemptive,

mid-'90s pop references.

Yeah, it's all coming

to an end anyways.

-Translation?

-Our lives.

This summer everyone in

Grizzly Lake is going to college...

...to incubate their degrees,

get knocked up at a kegger...

...and come back here to populate

one of these homes...

...with tiny little versions of themselves.

These are our final days.

Turn.

What about your whole

music-criticism thing?

You'll beat the odds.

You always do, Clapton Davis.

Billy wants to eBay pieces of my face

and Verge is gonna fail me...

...unless I get an A

or save the universe.

Both equally improbable scenarios.

Duck.

You know, the whole cynic act

doesn't really fit on you.

Can't change anything.

Now is all we got. It's not cynicism.

I think now is pretty rad.

Except one girl's dead and the other's

waiting for the noose to tighten.

No.

I'm talking about now, me and you.

Look around. What don't you see?

Cinderhella?

Ione.

Get over yourself. Seriously.

My cast comes off tomorrow.

-Wanna take me dancing?

-Clapton don't dance.

Right, unless lone's playing Oasis.

More Grizzly Lake kids

were conceived to Oasis...

...than any other Beatles cover band.

Definitely Maybe is British Rohypnol.

Eyes glazing.

I made plans to see a movie

with lone tomorrow night.

Make room for a third wheel.

Cinderhella, please. No.

Why are you crying?

This is the happiest night of your life.

You're prom queen.

It didn't mean anything, okay?

I swear. It was just sex.

Oh, no, Wendy.

It was the worst kind of sex.

Premarital.

I won't tell anyone, I swear.

Just let me go.

I'll let you go,

but only if the glass slipper fits.

It's deep inside

your lower abdomen.

-Oh, no.

-Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.

If you take longer than two minutes,

it'll be a whole new crown of thorns.

Start digging.

Clock's ticking.

Oh, God!

Say cheese.

If you wanted to take pictures,

you should have stayed at home.

-Eat my shorts, jerk.

-I'll murder you, b*tch.

"Eat my shorts"?

There's always some dickweed

trying to spoil people's fun.

-This film is gnarly.

-Gnarly.

It's not fair. I've been doing

Pilates all senior year.

My stomach muscles

are too tight to dig through.

Oh, Wendy,

why didn't you think about that...

...before you offered Scott

your after-school special?

Cinderhella is a moralist.

This is probably the best movie

since Volcano.

And the award for most vapid

film review of the century goes to....

-Can you try being nice?

-Clapton's with me.

-Quit being a space cadet.

-I don't like Clapton.

-I don't care.

-White people, shut it!

But you know he's my own

Michael Keaton, right?

Will you give it up

with your '90s obsession?

Speaking of which, nice plagiarism

on your debate with the Canadian.

"Meat is murder"?

Everyone knows Morrissey's

Kill Uncle was better.

-ls it?

-You're such a nimrod.

Will you stop talking?

We have rules of conduct.

Your ticket's a contract.

-Shut up, lumberjack!

-What is the contract?

There's to be no illegal photography

inside of Galaxy Cinemas.

That is not the way

a capitalist society functions.

When you take photography

inside of cinemas...

...you take money from carpenters

trying to feed their families.

Closing statement?

Silence is compliance.

Do the math, baby. Taylor was hot.

I was watching Smurfs.

Neve Campbell was hot.

Jamie Lee Curtis?

-I just BitTorrented Avatar.

-I'd get jiggy with it.

Rephrase this for me, lone.

Your glamazon logic is too advanced.

-They look nothing like Smurfs.

-Riley. As if.

You're not banging enough

to be murdered.

-They're blue.

-Plus, you live in a bungalow.

Slasher-film heroines

live in McMansions.

They don't look alike.

Wow, that was 70 percent appalling

and 30 percent really perceptive.

-BT-dubs, Cinderhella is my stalker.

-Definition, "stalker":

Stalker, noun. Someone who is not

hot enough to be seen with you.

Ione makes a compelling case.

If someone were to be

slashed and killed, I'd vote for her.

You're all that and a bag of chips,

Clapton.

It's not like Taylor Fisher

won a popularity contest.

She was murdered. You guys are

watching bimbos-get-tortured porn...

...to feed some music-video director's

coke habit.

Taylor died because she had it all.

She was the most popular girl.

Nobody hated her.

I'd hide in a sporting-goods store

if zombies attacked.

Correction:
She was the most

popular girl. Everybody hated her.

-Costco.

-FYl, lone, you can't be the hero.

-No zombie memberships.

-Scream queens are virgins.

Riley does have superhero

impenetrability on her side.

Donald Waters.

He said "an anaconda"

and "ice cube."

I thought he was asking me to...

...watch a movie.

-Waters? That's gross.

-Cuts virginity out of the equation.

Cinderhella wants to kill me more.

I'm hot. Your house sucks. You lose.

Do you think Clapton would say yes

if I asked him out?

Riley, you have to do it.

You two have been

best friends forever.

-Hey, Clapton.

-Hey, Clapton.

He can ride me like that unicycle.

You!

Fartknocker!

Taylor Fisher was a paradigm

of human excellence.

Terrible shame this has to happen.

-Yeah.

-Yeah.

Problem with kids today, they don't

know how to channel aggression.

Football! That's the way.

Otherwise,

they're dreaming of girls...

...and end up in prison

on rape charges.

Yeah.

They close the school to let us grieve,

and everyone shows up at the mall.

These people make me sick.

Remember, there's a costume party

later at my place.

Ready for the big game tonight,

coach?

Always ready for football!

You're dead, Clapton.

Gotta fled.

I gotta pick up prom tickets.

But what about Taylor?

Run, blond gal, run!

Hotel for Dogs is on cable soon.

I guess the rumors

that you don't trim are true.

Taking nude photographs

with little kids is sick.

Here we go! Let's play some football!

Bust some heads!

Let's break some hands!

Break a claw!

Take it in!

Watch 32. Set. Hut!

Nolan, I'm open. What the f***?

Let go of the goddamn ball!

What the--?

What the hell do you think--?

-What are you doing?

-I'm sorry.

-Booger! Get off!

-Come on, Nolan.

-Get in the game!

-I'm trying!

-What is that?

-Get off the bear!

You saw nothing.

Nothing! Shut up!

Nolan, you all right?

What the hell do you think--?

What is that? Goddamn it!

Get out of here!

Billy, hold on a sec.

You resolve all your boy troubles

in the men's room?

Why are you gonna fight Clapton?

So junior high.

All that juicing is freaking you out.

Juicing?

Does this look like steroids to you?

Yeah, nice biceps. You're a freak!

You wanna know the story

of the real Billy Nolan?

Your eyes are bloodshot,

you vomit acid...

...and your brain is scrambled

from all the football hits.

Sure, lay it on me.

I have fly blood in my veins.

I'm a freak.

Robot dog.

Billy, I told you 1 00 damn times.

Get that dog out of here

when I'm watching the set.

He's blocking the game.

Why does he hate me?

All I have in the world is my TV set.

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