Express Pipe Laying Page #2

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I gotta go.

Well, Mitch, looks like

we've got ourselves a fight.

Great. It's fightin' time.

Can I be on their side?

Looks like there's gonna be a brawl.

You playin' something good?

Hell, yeah!

Rolling Stones' "Street Fighting Man."

G-7!

You just hit G-8.

Bring it on!

How come you get a pool cue?

Come on.

You fell right into my trap.

Sammy, bite 'em!

Bite 'em in the nose!

Note to self.

Learn to fight.

I wanna go over there and rip

their heads off, every one of them.

That would probably work, since they're

so tired from beating us mercilessly.

But since we rented the cop uniforms,

let's try it my way, all right?

- Hey, dude, what's up?

- Neil, is that you?

Yeah, it's me, Neil.

It's Jason. We just got back from

beating these guys. Messed 'em up good!

The whole time, this guy's lying there,

crying like a little girl.

- Wait, I'll get Terry.

- Don't get Terry. I mean...

The reason I'm calling is this.

There's these guys going around

to frat houses pretending to be cops.

But they're not real cops.

They're fake cops.

They just robbed a bunch of stuff

from the Delta Psi house.

So don't be fooled, okay?

Sure thing.

Thanks for calling.

Okay, no problem, dude.

Now you go back to doing something

latently homoerotic, all right?

Hello, real cops?

Yes, I'd like to register a complaint.

We got a complaint about the noise.

Whatever you say, Officer.

Officer down! We need backup!

- Okay, we'll take care of these two.

- You got it.

Hey, frat sisters, remember us?

I'll take this one.

- I'll take the next one.

- All right, man.

That felt great, man,

getting back at those guys tonight.

I've got to admit, that was brilliant,

what you did.

You are the king of revenge.

Pipe down! I'm trying to watch

these broads work out.

- You want another beer?

- Yeah.

Mitch, you wanna come over here?

I'm not falling for that one again.

- I think I'm having a heart attack.

- Not gonna work.

Pops! You all right?

I'm gonna let him sleep.

Could you stay with him

while I find the doctor?

- Yeah, sure.

- Thanks.

I'm glad you came.

Hey, Mr. McKenna.

I'll go get Sam.

No, hold on.

There's something I want to tell you.

I'm gonna find Sam.

Mitch, sit your ass down!

It's embarrassing being physically

afraid of a hundred-year-old man...

who just had a coronary...

so could we hurry this up?

I'm not doin' too well.

So knowing that, I think

I better tell you this now.

- Tell me what?

- I'm your father.

You must be delirious,

because you're not my father.

I don't know who my father is,

but it's not you.

Here, Mitch.

Look at the picture

in this locket.

Holy Lord!

That's a picture of you and my mom

having sex!

God! Why would you show me that?

I'm sorry, son.

I figured you'd never believe me

unless I showed you that picture.

I loved your mother as a friend, but it

wasn't true love. We both knew that.

Besides, back then they didn't have

these fancy birth control methods.

Like pullin' out.

God!

Stop sayin' dirty stuff for a second,

would you?

Does Sam know about this?

No. And I don't want you to tell him.

Why not?

I don't want him to feel

he's been lied to his entire life.

Down deep he's very sensitive.

Promise me you won't tell him.

I can't promise you.

Sam's got a right to know.

I'm gonna tell him.

Hello. I'm Dr. Farthing.

Are you Mr. McKenna's son?

I gotta talk to Sam.

Mitch, don't tell him!

Don't you tell him!

Now, let me ask you.

Are you a betting man?

I don't know. Sure.

If someone were taking bets on

your father's bout with death...

I'd bet everything I own on death.

It's a good bet.

The odds are he'll probably die.

Couldn't you have prepared him

for that?

Well...

kind of thought I did

with that betting analogy.

What is wrong with my dad?

Your dad?

In a nut shell,

your dad needs a heart transplant.

Because of his age,

he's low priority on the donor's list.

Was your father a famous athlete

or rock star?

No. He was a boxer,

but he wasn't famous.

Sorry, no heart there.

But, for $600...

I could sell you

a fully-adjustable hospital bed.

Are you crazy?

I don't need a bed.

Playing hardball, are you?

Okay, $550.

I don't have to sit here

and listen to this!

No, wait.

I can't believe this is happening.

Wait. Where're you goin'?

Your friend's leaving...

Come back here. I can help him.

Please, come back, sit down.

I'm sorry.

I'm a compulsive gambler.

Now, I know there's nobody to blame

for this but myself.

I don't know. Maybe the Buffalo Bills,

or the Boston Red Sox or Mr. "T"...

or the Jets.

Mr. "T"? Are you telling me

that you bet on the fight...

in Rocky III,

and you bet against Rocky?

Hindsight is 20/20, my friend.

The point is, I'm in trouble.

Deep trouble. Which could be good

for Mr. McKenna's father.

There is a way I can get his name bumped

to the top of the list to get his heart.

How?

If you pay me $50,000.

- Did you say $50,000?

- No.

I whispered $50,000.

I need it in two weeks.

This is awful, but I've given these

bookies practically everything I have.

When I was young, my mom used to tell me

that the lights we see in the sky...

are from stars that burned out

millions of years ago.

It's like life.

Something can be one way you think

all your life...

and in reality

it's completely different.

Yeah.

I'm gonna kill you, a**hole!

Sam, are you pissing

off the side of the building?

Sort of.

You know, I'm going crazy here

over Pops. He's gonna die!

He's not gonna die. You're gonna get

the money and get him a heart.

$50,000 in two weeks?

Come on!

My sister Carol said she'd send

two grand. Where will I get the rest?

- Are you gonna not try?

- Of course I'm gonna try!

What if I got a job?

Maybe I could pay this guy off

in installments.

Yes. Now you're talkin'.

I'll help you every step of the way.

Thanks, buddy.

You little bastards!

That was a hell of a piss.

Look at the "help wanted" section.

I'm looking at the "buy and sell" ads.

Maybe we can sell something.

- Just look for a job.

- All right, all right!

Movie line comin' up.

How's that lookin', baby?

He was supposed to keep drivin'.

To start with,

the bottom stair is a roundover.

It does a 180 into the newel post.

The bannister has a 90 degree easement

and dies into the newel post.

Ninety degrees.

- That's gonna be a problem.

- What's the problem?

We lied on our resumes.

We know nothing about construction.

When is lunch?

You're fired.

Ass-bite, you sure this is a good idea?

Hell, yeah.

It's 50 bucks for eatin' brownies.

They are safe, but there is a chance

of some side effects...

including mild itching, nausea, chills,

hallucinations and rashes.

These are good?

Aren't they good?

I think I feel a slight itch.

No, maybe not.

Could be my imagination.

We eat the pig and

then together we burn.

- What you talkin' about, Satan?

- Come with me.

You belong with me.

Burn!

The hell with that job.

Who wants to be itchy anyway?

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