Halloween Page #5

three new cheers to learn,

so I'm like, "Hey, why don't we just

rock it commando, flash some snatch?

And maybe nobody will notice

we're doing the same old tired cheers."

- Oh, you didn't.

- Oh, yeah, I did.

- Yeah, you did.

- Yeah.

You know what that

dried-up f***ing b*tch did?

- What?

- Calls my dad and tells him what I said.

- Yeah.

- Oh, my gosh.

That C-U-N-T, yeah,

needs to get laid.

What did your dad say?

Oh, who cares?

I'll just give him the little sweetie-pants

princess suck-up routine.

Daddy's little pookie would never

say something like that.

Gosh, ever since your parents split up,

you have your dad

wrapped around your little finger.

Totally wrapped.

- Hey, b*tches!

- Hey, Annie.

- Thanks for waiting for me.

- Whatever. Hurry your ass up.

God.

Hey, I heard about your

little cheerleading incident.

Yeah, I'm totally famous.

You're totally a slut.

Yeah.

[Laughs]

Anyway, today in class,

in French class,

Mr. Leclerc was totally

flirting with me.

- God, here we go!

- We were conjugating the verb "to want."

- Because he so wants you!

- Je veuxl Je veuxl

- Oh, my gosh.

- Bare Leclerc.

Bare Leclerc wants me.

I think that guy's watching us.

- What guy?

- That guy over there.

Yeah?

- Oh, please.

- I saw him outside school earlier.

Probably just some pervert

cruising school poontang.

Yeah, wait. Watch this.

Hey, freak!

Hey, freak, you want

some of the young stuff?

You like that?

Well, come and get it.

- Hey!

- Lynda, stop.

Hey, a**hole.

My daddy's the sheriff.

Huh? Why don't you go crawl back

under your f***ing rock?

- Yeah, whatever.

- See, I told you.

He's just some

stupid f***ing pervert.

- Total pervert.

- Gosh, you guys are crazy.

That guy could have been dangerous.

- Oh, God.

- Whatever.

- What is he going to do?

- I don't know.

Oh, my God.

You should date him!

- You should!

- You guys!

Come on, let's go get something--

[horn honks]

- Oh, no, 5-0.

- Hey.

Hi, Dad.

Hey, Mr. Brackett.

- Nice furry hat, Mr. Brackett.

- Thank you.

What's up, Dad?

I'm on my way home.

Anybody want a ride?

Yeah. Hell, yeah, I'll take a ride.

- No.

- You guys?

Bacon-mobiles make me nauseous.

- Nice.

- Bye, Annie.

- See you later.

- Bye, guys.

Hey, kiddo.

- Kind of a drag having a pig as a dad.

- Nah, I like him.

Yeah? Do you think

he was flirting with me?

- You are so demented.

- Totally.

- Yeah. See ya.

- Bye.

- I hate you!

- [Laughs]

Aw, how cute.

Would you please help me

with this stupid thing?

Okay, okay, okay.

Jeez. Mom, why do you

deal with this every year?

Because for some unbelievable reason,

your father likes it.

- The feet look like the hands--

- It's not working.

And the hands like the feet,

and I can't get the thing in the hole, and--

- Oh, I can't get it!

- Calm down, I'm helping--

Oh, I got it.

- You got it?

- Will you try and get those right?

Okay, I'll try.

Oh, jeez.

I've been out here

for two hours doing this.

There.

- Hey, do you want me to get--

- Just hang himself. No!

I'm still upset about the whole

bagel thing this morning,

if you want to know the truth.

Mom, that was a joke.

- Oh, yeah. Well, let me tell you.

- It was a joke.

There are some things

moms don't need to hear.

- Yeah, I'm 17.

- I know you're 17.

You're the best, Mom.

[Chuckles]

[Man]

Yeah, it's right over here.

[Loomis on phone]

Yeah. Hello?

Yes, uh, Sheriff Brackett, please.

Dr. Samuel Loomis.

Yeah. Hello? He--

Oh, sh-- ugh!

Can I borrow your cell phone?

This thing's about as useful

as a row of Christmas puddings.

[Chuckles]

Oh, no. I don't have one.

Causes brain cancer.

Oh, yeah. Right.

You know, I remember this mess

just like it happened yesterday?

It was tragic.

The poor woman,

I guess she couldn't stand the stress

of being labeled "Satan's mother."

I think she blew her f***ing head off.

I'm still amazed.

A young boy like that

butchering all those people.

And the doctor involved--

I think he wrote a book or something.

F***ing blood money.

Yeah, I read that book.

It was a masterpiece.

- Now, are we close?

- Yes, it's just here. I gu--

- Goddamn son of a b*tch!

- What?

Those f***ing kids!

Jesus Christ!

Don't they think I have anything better to do

with my time than clean up this sh*t?

F***ing little idiots! God damn it!

Where the hell are you going?

Who would do sick sh*t like this?

I think I know whose grave that is.

[Turns engine off]

Dude, it f***ing totally sucks

that they're selling this place.

It's reduced.

Maybe I can buy it.

Yeah, with like, your $10 you have

in your piggy bank?

It's a shithole anyway.

I'm going to miss it.

Don't worry, dude.

We'll find another house to party in.

Besides, I'm gonna

get the van all jacked up.

You're gonna want to spend

more time in there anyway.

[Passionate moaning]

Wait, wait!

Wait, just like that.

Oh, God.

Oh, wait. Wait.

Right there, right there.

- Hold on!

- Wait, my calf is cramping, man.

Why'd you stop?

Oh, God--

Oh, f***.

A f***ing little warning would be nice.

- F***.

- I'm sorry.

Jesus.

- Get me another beer.

- You get it.

I'm the one that just did all the heavy lifting.

All right, I'll go.

So, seriously, on a scale from 1 to 10,

should I have a 5?

How about... zero?

- More like--

- Zero.

More like zero plus 11.

[Radio playing]

[Changing radio dials]

["(Don't Fear) The Reaper"

playing on radio]

[Ringing]

- Hello?

- Yo, Mama.

What up, dude?

- Nothing much.

- Oh, what's wrong?

I was just thinking about

what Annie said earlier today,

concerning my so-called

"cheerleading incident."

I don't know.

It's kind of bumming me out.

F***, dude, who put

all the empties back in here?

You don't think that, do you?

Lynda, I don't think you're a slut.

Come on, that's ridiculous.

I don't give a sh*t what Annie thinks anyway.

But I care what you think.

Aww!

F***!

What-- What the f--

Jesus, Bob, could you move

your pokey ass a little slower?

Well, could you?

Well, that's cute.

See anything you like?

Okay, enough.

Joke's over.

Beer, please.

Hey, Casper the Friendly A**hole Ghost,

hand me my beer.

Well, f***ing hand it over, dip-sh*t.

Why do you have to become

such a f***ing jerk every time we do it?

You think you'd be grateful

that I let you touch me with that thing.

And anyway, you're not a zero.

You're a f***ing minus 5 or something.

Whatever.

What'd you do to this beer?

What about this big one here?

That looks perfect.

- You mean, like, this one here?

- Yeah, that one.

- Yes, yes, that's lovely.

- .22 Smith & Wesson.

- That's good.

- Yeah.

That's okay if you want to just piss it off.

If you want to blow its f***ing head off...

this is what you want.

.357 Magnum.

Wolff mainspring, polygonal rifling.

Beautiful, beautiful.

Poly what?

- Muzzle velocity of 1,450 feet per second.

- Great, just wrap it up.

- That's fine.

- Okay, okay.

- Take it easy.

- Thank you. Yes.

I'm in a bit of a hurry.

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