Pitbullterje Page #4

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No, stop it.

Hello, Jim.

Playing with Playmo?

So what?

Stupid homo.

Where is that fat best buddy of yours?

Terje? He'll be here a little later.

So, you are friends?

We are best friends.

Sh*t.

Stop it.

What's wrong with you? Get a grip.

Sh*t!

Was there anything else you wanted?

You little sh*t.

Kurt, stop it.

Beat it. Come on, Roger.

Get the lighter. Hold.

I can feel the biggest blue flame fart

of all times building up.

It will fry up your nose hairs.

Are you ready?

Come on? Light it.

Get away, Jim.

What are you, a chicken?

I have to do everything my self.

What losers.

Sh*t. Oh, sh*t. Oh sh*t, it went in.

Oh, God damn it, it stings like crazy.

My fart backfired. Oh, Roger,

put some snow on it, please?

Hey, Roger, what are you doing?

Hanne, call an ambulance?

Sh*t, it stings.

Hanne, wait!

Hanne, wait.

Hanne, wait... seriously.

Merry Christmas.

And a Happy New Year.

Hey...

You chose dare, you know.

See you around, then. Bye.

Terje.

Dad.

Come here.

Stop.

Go get Jim's present.

Is there any room at the inn?

No, there is no room.

But we can squeeze inn one more.

Houston? The eagle has landed.

We are attempting to go out, need

assistance. Do you read me? Over.

Eagle read you loud and clear.

Ready for countdown? Over.

Ready.

Three, two, one.

Hi.

Yeah.

Jim? Weren't you supposed to

give up Playmo?

I was, but...

Then you don't need this.

Hey, Terje, that's Jim's present.

He got it from his mom.

You can have it.

Yes, Merry Christmas.

No, no, I won't take it.

Please? Ok.

Alright, if you insist.

I've got something for you, too.

Remember; it's the thought that

counts.

You can always use

a pit bull, you know.

Thanks.

So, I guess we can eat.

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