Goon

All right, boys, here we go.

Huntsy, how long does it take

you to get your hair like that?

- About four hours.

- It's nice.

Smitty thinks you look like

Stevie Wonder on steroids.

- F*** you!

- Ooh! Look at that face, p*ssy!

- I'll f***ing kill you!

- Come on!

I think I nailed him.

# Last Sunday morning

The sunshine felt like rain #

# The week before it all

seemed the same #

# With the help of God and

true friends, I come to realize #

- Come on...

- Oh...

- Doug! Get to work.

- Ross Rhea...

It says here

that you have brown eyes.

Come on! You actually have

blue eyes in real life.

I'm not paying!

- I'm really sorry, man.

- F*** off.

- What's the problem, Gerry?

- I didn't win anything.

It's a jukebox, Gerry.

# Go on downtown, baby #

# Find somebody to love #

# Meanwhile

I ain't wastin' time no more #

# Cos time goes by like pouring

rain and much faster things #

# Running after subway trains... #

- You look nice in that.

- Thank you.

Mr. and Mrs. Goldsmith,

you guys look too young.

You have to bring IDs next time.

Huh? What the hell

are you talking about?

- Barbara, this is Dr. and Mrs. Glatt.

- Hi.

- How do you do?

- Nice to meet you.

- And their doctor son, Ira.

- A pleasure.

Great to meet you.

- This is my youngest son, Doug.

- Hello.

- Ow!

- I'm sorry.

Ira, have you got a main squeeze?

I bet you're batting them off.

- My squeeze is late, actually.

- Your dad thought you were single.

What do I know?

So what Ivy League school

are you hiding at, Doug?

Doug did not follow

in the family vocation.

- He's a...

- I bounce.

Like, er, basketball?

Richard!

- Hi!

- They're very close friends.

That's quite the couple, Glatt.

Is he Jewish?

Oh! Come on, stop!

Stop blowing my hat, wind.

For the record,

they're both adopted.

# By and by

way after many years have gone

# All the war freaks die off

Leavin' us alone... #

Yes, there he is!

You handsome bastard. Come in.

Thanks.

- Tell me you saw what Rhea did?

- It was a brutal chop.

I've f***in' never seen Rhea

lose his sh*t like that before.

He got suspended for 20 games.

Boston sent him to St. John's.

He's 40 years old.

He's f***ing done, son.

welcome to Hot Ice.

Tonight,

we have Ross Rhea's apology.

To Darryl and his family, I'm deeply

sorry for what happened out there,

- for what I did.

- Look at him. He's pathetic.

I have no excuse. I don't...

Jesus, I can't stomach

this sh*t any more.

It f***ing kills me

to see him like this.

I'll feature it

on next week's Hot Ice,

unless that motherf***er Sully

from Worcester calls in again.

Last week, he called in pretending

he was from some sweepstakes

and told me that I'd won the grand prize

of 50 c*cks in my mouth.

I have the option of sucking 50 at

once or one a month for 50 months.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean

to bring you down, pal.

Oh, no, no. I...

I don't have a thing, you know,

like... like you have your show

and my dad and my brother,

they have their doctor thing.

I haven't got a thing.

Everybody's got something but me.

Would it help

that I want you inside me?

That I want you to make lemonade

in my chocolate factory? Hey?

F*** this f***ing sad sh*t.

Let's go watch the Assassins.

I'll fill your big ass full of corndogs.

Come on!

F*** you, Oshawa!

Ladies and gentlemen,

this is only the first period.

I predict that this game

becomes an ass raping

that only the likes

of f***ing Ned Beatty

or potentially the cast of OZ

can comprehend!

- Dougie, any thoughts?

- This is fun. These are tasty treats.

Whoa! What the f*** is that sh*t?

- F*** you!

- Get in!

- Go f*** yourself!

- Bye-bye, b*tch.

F*** you!

Welcome to Orangetown,

motherf***er.

What the f***? You want a piece

of me, you little f***ing f*ggot?

- Hey, my brother's gay.

- That's it.

- What the f***...?

- You filming me, f***ing f*ggot?

Hey, my brother's GAY!

Motherf***er!

Ow!

Oh!

Oh, attaboy, Doug.

Kick his f***ing head in.

- Sh*t!

- Holy f***ing sh*t.

Look at that face period!

Do you wanna take

that word back, please?

F*** you, f*ggot.

Yes! Yes!

Yes! Oh, my God!

Doug! Doug!

Doug! Doug!

Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug!

Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug!

Doug! Doug!

Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug!

Prrrr! Rap-pap pop-pop prop!

That's my f***ing

boy boner genocide.

I am pretty sure my f***ing

eyeballs just ejaculated.

Pat, that's it.

We have a very special f***ing

guest - Doug The Thug Glatt.

I'm a big fan. It's a good show.

Speaking of fans, the phones.

Caller, you're blowing Hot Ice.

Hi, there. I was wondering

if you like hot dogs?

- That's a...

- I like hot dogs, but I prefer corndogs

because you don't need a bun for it

Because the bun is all around it

and you can eat it from a stick.

You like hotdogs cos you

like c*cks in your mouth.

- You motherf***er...

- It's Sully from Worcester!

F*** you, Gus and Brian,

you're supposed to screen this sh*t.

F*** this. I'm done.

I've had enough of you

and your police-state censorship.

Okay?

You are the final caller ever

on Hot Ice.

This is Rollie Hortense,

coach of the Orangetown Assassins.

- Yeah? Go f*** yourself.

- Pattie, do me a favour.

Let me talk to your buddy, Doug.

You impressed the hell out of me

last night and a lot of other people, too.

Thank you. You impress me

a hell of a lot, too.

I'll be direct. I want you to come

to the rink tomorrow for a try-out.

You think about it, okay?

Tomorrow at 2.30.

Okay. Yeah, I hope I'll see you there

tomorrow at 2.30.

Where?

You guys really shine

in the f***ing Morris.

Dougie! Dougie!

Doug! Come out here, son.

Who the f*** is this guy?

Stop being mean to my friend!

They're his gay brother's.

What, you've never seen

figure skates before?

- Hey.

- Howdy.

F***.

I don't know what you sweethearts

are all laughing at.

One in nine last time I checked,

so shut the f*** up

and let this guy have his shot.

Coach, you're not going to

let this guy join the team?

You know, you're not joining

the Mousecapades, huh, buddy?

You're not trying out for the...

- The... What... The Capades.

- Spit it out.

You're a big boy.

Use your big boy words.

- Uhhhh.

- F*** it.

- Sh*t! Sh*t!

- Motherf***er!

Cocksucker!

Jesus Christ. Holy lick, boy.

It's just too bad those are your

team mates that you f***ed up.

- I'm sorry, sir.

- But on the bright side,

those are your team mates

that you f***ed up.

What do you say, son?

You want to be an Assassin?

- Yes. Yes.

- What number do you want to wear?

69!

Take the number 69, it's hilarious.

Is that number taken?

Dig it in, now! Dig it in!

You'll get better.

Push, push, push!

There you go, you got it.

Glatt! Glatt!

Excuse me.

Let's go!

Okay, pretty good, pretty good.

Way, way, way better.

Whoa!

Ross "The Boss" Rhea.

He is the master at f***ing guys up

one on one.

You see what Rhea's doing?

Grabbing on the meat right there?

Nothing is coming through

and you're tiring out.

Pow! Bam!

He lures you in by beating

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