Joe Dirt Page #3

...you might not know

where to find me.

You are gonna make some guy so happy.

I just hope whoever he is,

he deserves a girl like you.

God, that Brandy has a nice ass.

I got this loser talking about

the moon and walking his dog.

All the time, I'm thinking about

Brandy's well-manicured backyard...

...and those cut-off shorts.

Yeah, she's cool.

So there I was on my own again

looking for my parents.

- But I don't know their last names.

- It's Dirt.

Isn't that the name

on the family crest? Dirt.

No, my last name's Dirt.

My dad made it Dirt, for some reason.

I just put an "e" on it,

pronounce it "Dirt. "

It's no big deal.

It actually sounds pretty cool.

But I don't know their last name...

...and I remember my sister yelling

at my face when I was growing up...

That's why Dad named you Joe Dirt!

That's why Dad named you Joe Dirt!

That's why Dad named you

Joe Dirt instead of...

I couldn't remember my real last name.

- I knew they'd be hard to find.

- So what'd you do?

I needed some money.

I hopped a train out of Silvertown

and headed east for the big city.

Then I got lucky.

I got myself a real important job

in advertising.

Molar World. Walk-ins welcome.

There you go.

Molar World. One for the kid? Sure.

What's up?

Oh, my God!

Competition, orange '67.

This thing's a Hemi!

Ma'am, are you selling this car?

Literally just went onto the market.

Well, how much for it?

What do you got?

Practically nothing.

I'm looking for my parents.

They lost me at the Grand Canyon

more than ten years ago.

All my money goes towards that.

I don't have pictures of them.

You don't even have a picture?

Well, you know, my ex-husband,

before he died...

Oh. I'm sorry.

No. I killed him.

He used to beat me.

So one night I just pushed him

into the wood chipper.

Told the cops he fell.

Good for you.

But he used to be a police

sketch artist. He was damn good too.

Victims gave him the worst descriptions

and he'd draw them like photographs.

He could do anything.

You know? Like age progression and-

That's what I'll do for my parents.

How much that cost?

About 360 bucks.

Then that's what I need to make.

Thank you.

Sorry I can't buy your beautiful Hemi.

Oh, no. You can.

Give me what's in your pocket

and she's yours.

For real?!

You hear that, Charlie?

We got us a Hemi, brother.

That lady gave me a great idea.

Dirt! Storm's coming in!

Get up on that roof

and put some bricks in the tooth!

My tooth!

My tooth!

Back! Go back!

I can see down your shirt!

What an ass!

Hey, boss, I'm going on a break!

Airplane! Help me!

Oh, that's not professional.

I'd floated all the way

to North Dakota.

There I was, scared to death as I

dropped like a stone from the sky.

Go back! Go back!

Then an amazing thing happened.

I landed by an oil rig,

and they was hiring people.

The wage was like a sign from above...

...that I was meant

to find my parents.

Hey, Joe, come on down!

Get the drill!

Yeah, baby. Come on now. Get loose.

Whoops, that's me! I got it!

It's pumping. I'll pay for this!

I'm new!

I'm new! I don't know what to do!

You done with that apple core?

I'm done with that fart. Want that?

Maybe if it came out of Charlene

Tilton's ass, I'd take a bite.

You probably like J.R., you queer.

I saw your bumper sticker:

"Cowboys' butts drive me nuts. "

Is that right? You think

that's queer? Is this queer?

They're larging and charging,

looking for chickies.

You want to back that up?

Want to fight? Why don't you stick

your head up my butt and fight for air?

That's it. You and me. Let's go.

I'd love to beat your ass

up and down this place.

I got to go back to work.

Joe Dirt. You're fired.

Here's your week's pay.

Dang.

What's up here? What's down there?

What's going on, man? Here I come.

Luckily, my neck broke my fall.

I guess you won the battle.

But I won the war.

If you're covered in oil,

don't stand next to a fire.

Now that's day-one stuff.

Keep that Skoal, baby.

That's what I'm talking about.

So I had my 360 bucks. The next day

I would try the police sketch thing.

But something happened to my head.

I spent the night in what I thought

was an abandoned circus tent.

But I guess it was no circus.

I was totally bombed

on insecticide, I think.

So needless to say, I was in no shape

to do any good with my recollections.

The police sketcher

thought I was messing with him...

...because my dad came out

looking like Father Time...

...and my mom came out too butch...

...looking like Richard Ramirez,

the Night Stalker. Remember him?

As my head cleared, I realized

I needed a different approach.

Then I got a brainstorm:

Hire an Indian tracker to help me.

Great idea.

They could find anything.

It's like in the movies.

So I headed for a reservation.

You want me to put my ear to the

ground, listen for hoof beats...

...check for footprints...

...look for broken twigs?

But this is the modern age.

That stuff doesn't work anymore.

Which is why I had to open

this fireworks stand.

I wasn't getting by

on my tracking wages.

Come on. You're supposed to be

good at tracking stuff, man.

I gotta find my parents.

I need a way to sell more fireworks.

I'm going broke with this venture also.

I see you got snakes and sparklers,

but where's the good stuff, man?

Good stuff. This is the

good stuff. Snakes and sparklers.

Are you nuts, dude? You need

stuff that explodes, go boom.

- Why is that good?

- Well...

Well, you might as well

ask why is the tree good?

Why is the sunset good?

Why are b*obs good?

Firecrackers. You stick them

in mailboxes, drop them in toilets...

...shove them up a bullfrog's ass.

I'd never do that because

I'm going to be a veterinarian.

There you go.

Someone shoves an M-80 up a bullfrog's

butt, blows him to pieces...

...he comes back to you to fix it.

You win twice, brother. It's good biz.

You're saying you have no black cats,

Roman candles or screaming meemies?

Come on. You don't got no ladyfingers,

buzz bottles, snicker bombs...

...church burners, finger blasters, gut

busters, zippedy-doodas, crap flappers?

No, I don't.

You're gonna stand there,

owning a fireworks stand...

...and say you have

no whistling bungholes...

...spleen splitters, whisker biscuits,

honkey lighters, Hsker Ds and don'ts.

Cherry bombs, nipsy dazers, with

or without the scooter stick...

...or one single

whistling kitty-chaser?

No.

Because snakes and sparklers

are the only ones I like.

That might be your problem.

It's not what you like.

It's the consumer.

Look there. That's happening.

We should get bleachers over here.

People come from miles around

to see this.

Feast your eyes on a feast of smoke.

Oh, dang. It's out.

CNN will turn around and go home now.

I saw a snail over there. He said:

"That thing's slow, it ain't moving

fast, it's boring, dull, I'm yawning. "

- That's a snail watching that.

- There's a snail in the desert?

A spaceship dropped him off. Focus on

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