God Bless America Page #4

If you want the car, just take it.

My parents got me the wrong one anyway.

Yeah, that's a f***ing tragedy.

- What are you doing?!

- Nothing.

Help!

# School's out for summer #

# School's out forever #

Sh*t! Sh*t! F***! God!

F***! God damn it!

Help!

- F***!

- Chloe?

- Ow! Ow!

- Help!

Hel...

# School's out forever #

Did you just kill Chloe?

Awesome.

# No more pencils #

# No more books #

# No more teacher's... #

Hello?!

Weird drifter guy?

Look, I know you're in there!

Hi.

What are you doing?

Nothing.

Great! Me too.

I'm Roxy.

What's your name?

Frank.

Great! It's really excellent

to meet you, Frank.

Tell me all about it.

About what?

Did the b*tch cry?

Yeah.

That is... fantastic!

Oh, God, I wish I could have

seen it up close!

Whoo!

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.

Somebody just made that.

Jumping Jesus Christ, Frank!

Live it up!

This is the best day ever!

Who are you killing next?

Do you take requests?

'Cause I was thinking

maybe some Kardashians.

My gym coach.

People who give high fives.

Really any jock.

Twihards.

People who talk about "punk rock."

- Who else really rips my cock off?

- Get off the bed.

Oh, Mormons

and other religious a**holes

who won't let gay people be married.

And adult women

who call their tits "the girls."

- Ew, like...

- Stop it!

Just, please, be quiet.

Get off the bed, huh?

I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.

I... I'm kind of busy right now.

Awesome.

Uh, be careful with that.

- Wait.

- No, don't do that.

That's kind of personal.

"Dear Ava,

your life will be better without me.

I'm sorry.

Love, Dad."

A suicide note?

Are you f***ing kidding me?

God, the greatest thing

that ever happened around here,

and you're just some sad-sack p*ssy?

Goddamn it.

Well, do it, then.

I want to watch.

Let's go!

How do you know I won't kill you?

I don't.

And, frankly, Frank,

I don't f***ing care.

Frank?

What?

I got an idea.

Okay, go ahead.

You sure you're ready now?

Yup. All systems go.

Wait again!

Sorry.

Can I say something first?

Go ahead.

You know, it's just that...

you really had the chance

to do something awesome here.

But you're blowing it, Frank.

Now you're just gonna be remembered

as some creepy, old stalker dude

who was in love

with some young twat

on a television show.

Just a pervy old dude

that killed that girl

and then himself

when he couldn't have her.

Wah.

I didn't kill her

because I couldn't have her.

I killed her...

because she wasn't nice.

And that was a fantastic start, Frank!

Your instincts were right on.

She was a class-A c*nt.

But with so many horrible people

in the world

who should be taking the big dirt nap...

why quit now?

You kill yourself, Frank,

and you're killing

the wrong person, which...

would be a shame when there are

so many other Chloes out there

who need to die.

Like who?

NASCAR fans.

Country fans.

People who dress their babies

in band T-shirts.

No, no, no, no.

People who deserve to die.

All those people do deserve to die.

No.

Chloe's parents.

If anybody comes, you honk the horn.

But no matter what you don't get out

of the car, you got it?

Aye-aye, captain.

I'm not kidding around.

- Frank...

- What?

This is more fun

than killing yourself, right?

I don't know.

Yeah, I guess.

Frank...

Yeah.

Yeah?

- Get in the house and shut the f*** up.

- Jesus.

Get over here.

Get over here.

- Go! Go!

- Honey?

Get over there by the couch.

Get over there.

Do what he says.

What do you want?

We could give you money.

Listen, I'm a very rich man.

Don't you know who we are?

W-We're Chloe's parents!

We were all on TV!

Yeah, I know exactly who you are.

I'm the man that killed your daughter.

Goddamn it!

Oh, God!

- Yes, we did it!

- Hey, hey, hey, get off me!

I told you to stay in the car!

Frank, she was getting away.

You mean "thanks"?

Yeah. Let's go.

That was f***ing crazy, right?

Yeah.

I feel...

Good?

Yeah.

I feel good. It's weird.

Thanks. Perfect.

You guys need some extra napkins?

Look, I'm sorry.

I really thought this would work.

All right, my turn.

Try me again.

We're definitely gonna need

some new clothes.

So, where are we going next?

What do you mean "we"?

There's no we.

Frank, you have to take me with you.

No way.

Come on, please?

No. What about your family?

My family?

Well, my mother is what you

would call a crack whore.

I live in a trailer

with her and her boyfriend,

and every night after she passes out

he comes into my room and rapes me.

I don't know what to say.

Well, let's kill them.

Yes!

Wait, no.

No, no, we can't keep killing

people we know.

That's how people get caught.

We have to keep it random.

That's a good idea.

See? I'm already helping.

So, please, Frank?

Can I please come with you?

What about your friends?

I mean, don't you got

any friends you can stay with?

Frank...

I have no friends.

All right.

Really? Oh, thank you!

Hey, listen, you know,

when I say something, it goes.

No more of this sh*t.

No more acting on your own.

All right. Thank you.

The washing machine's broken.

What?

What are you doing?

Seeing if there's anything

in the news about us or the murders.

- Is there?

- Yeah.

On the murders.

Nothing about us.

"Murdered family

of reality star found"...

Hey, let me see that.

See ya!

Oh, my God!

I had this shirt.

It's still ugly.

What do you think?

I think that might be

a little small on the belly.

So, do you have a girlfriend?

I'm not gonna answer that question.

Why not?

'Cause you're a kid.

I don't want to have

an inappropriately mature

conversation with you, all right?

I was only asking

because I thought you were gay.

Well, I'm not gay.

You seem gay.

- Really?

- Yes.

Wow.

So, do you?

Have a girlfriend?

- No.

- A wife?

I did. Not anymore.

Oh.

Are you attracted to me?

Don't be weird.

You don't like me

because you think I'm ugly?

I'm not attracted to you

because you're a child.

And you think I'm ugly.

I'm not gonna answer that question.

Well, what if we were the same age?

I'm not gonna answer

that question, either.

Oh, so you can kill a teenager,

just not f*** one?

Yeah.

But you do think I'm mature for my age.

Not particularly.

You're seriously not interested

in me at all as a girlfriend?

What the hell are you talking about?

I'm not a pedophile.

What, so we're platonic spree killers?

Yeah, and that's all.

Because you think I'm ugly.

It's unethical for me

to answer that question,

because I refuse to objectify a child.

I mean, that's part

of what's wrong with everything.

I'm not American Apparel.

I'm not the creep that came up

with those Bratz dolls.

All men like young girls.

Oh, that's what society's

trying to sell ya,

but, you know,

maybe it's time for adult males

to aim a little bit higher

than raping kids.

I mean, f*** R. Kelly,

f*** Vladimir Nabokov,

and f*** Mary Kay Letourneau,

while we're at it.

F*** Woody Allen

and his whole "the heart wants

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