Porky's Page #5

He does, but for some reason

he had his heart set on Princeton.

This chilli tastes like sh*t.

Oh, sh*t.

Pee Wee, would you get me some sugar

from the end of the counter?

That boy been drinkin'?

No, sir, Officer. Our friend is a diabetic.

Thank you for bringing Anthony some sugar.

How many cubes of sugar does your cousin

require when he's had too much insulin?

Two cubes of sugar

usually is enough to bring Anthony around.

Feel better now?

Gee, I've never seen anybody

drown in a bowl of chilli before.

Me neither. I wouldn't even know

how to fill out the forms on that.

Yeah, you're right.

It would be a lotta hassle.

I guess we'd better save him.

Yeah, I guess we'd better.

You know, I'm no doctor, but I could

swear this youngster's inebriated.

- No, sir. He's not inebriated.

- Not at all.

Well, now,

if you guys say he's a diabetic, OK.

But if we find out he's drunk,

we're gonna book you as accessories.

- He's bombed.

- The son of a b*tch does it all the time.

Officer. Excuse me, but I couldn't

help but notice what's been happening here.

- And who are you?

- Just a bystander. Brian Schwartz.

Now, I don't know if this is important,

but I overheard this poor fellow saying

the reason he'd gotten drunk...

that his girlfriend broke up with him.

Now, tell me, gentlemen,

wouldn't you be likely to toss down a few

if the woman you loved

turned her back on you?

If my wife left me, I'd get drunk forjoy.

All right.

Get him outta here, and get him home.

- Now.

- Thank you, Officer.

Will do.

- You're one smooth mother, Schwartz.

- Well, you do what you can.

- It's Mickey.

- Porky's.

Here we go again.

Holy sh*t.

- Did you whip him?

- Hell, yes.

I used my face

to break the son of a b*tch's hand.

Pee Wee, you better go call Ted.

- I don't feel so good...

- I hate to do this,

but I think we better

get him to a hospital.

- Hospital. Hospital.

- Mickey, where are you goin'?

I'm goin' home, you son of a b*tch.

Where d'you think?

Don't worry, old buddy.

I learned my lesson.

We're gonna have to baby-sit with him.

That won't stop him.

- Did you see Timmy's face?

- Yeah, we saw it.

Shorts, shirt...

You really worked him over,

didn't you, Schwartz?

Hey, I didn't do that. I hardly touched

his face. I couldn't have done that.

- No, you didn't do it.

- Well, what happened?

- His old man.

- His father? Why?

Cos he got into a fight with a Jew

and he lost.

Coach, can I talk to you about Cavanaugh?

- Come on, Lynn.

- Brackett, you know I don't go all the way.

Who said anythin' about goin' all the way?

We're just gonna have a cup of coffee.

- No. No, no, no, no.

- Come on, Lynn.

I'll tell you a little secret.

- How do you know that?

- Miss Honeywell, do you mind?

- Do I mind what?

- It's disgusting.

The two of you, squirming about

like a pair of eels in heat.

- You're a disgrace.

- Yeah?

Well, it beats waddlin' around

like a frigid hippopotamus, Beulah.

What did you call me?

Beulah... Beulah Ballbreaker.

- Who do you think you're talking to?

- Well, if I heard a hurdy-gurdy playin',

I'd think I was talkin'

to the fat lady in the circus.

But I guess I'm talkin' to a ton of bad

news named Beulah, Beulah, Beulah.

- Look, ladies, I don't think this...

- You butt out.

Moral turpitude.

- What?

- Moral turpitude.

Read your contract, Miss Honeywell.

I'll have you fired for moral turpitude.

You can take your moral turpitude and you

can stick it up the old gazoo, Beulah.

- Gee, Lynn, I don't know. "Moral turpitude".

- Oh, come on.

All right, Brian.

- I'll talk to Coach Goodenough.

- I appreciate that.

But don't expect too much.

Now, come on, we're late for practice.

Smell.

Smell that air.

Oh, boy.

Oh, boy.

The boys' locker room always turned me on.

- Really?

- Yeah.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I mean, it turns me on.

It always has. I... I don't know why.

That's really interesting, Lynn,

but why don't you give me a hand here?

It always turned me on,

and I really don't know why.

Who cares?

I gotta know... I believe in frankness...

Why do they call you Lassie?

I... I...

I... don't... don't...

What in the world...?

Come on, Lynn. Time out. Time out.

Lynn. Lynn.

Be quiet! Be quiet, be quiet, be...

Please be quiet.

- Yes.

- Why, yes.

- Yes.

- Yes.

- Yes.

- Yes.

- Yes. Yes.

- Yes. Yes.

- Yes. Yes.

- Yes.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

- No.

- Yes.

- No.

- Yes.

Oh, goddammit.

Now.

Gas.

Sorry I'm late, Coach,

but I had a case of the runs.

Boy, it hurt like hell.

You probably heard me all the way out here.

- Must be catching.

- How's that?

I hope you haven't grown too attached

to Angel Beach, Coach Brackett.

All right, boys.

- This is the best one yet.

- What now?

All you need is a watermelon

and two jelly doughnuts.

- I'm not takin' a shower with him.

- Religious fanatics.

Hey, Mickey, how's it goin'? Listen,

we're about to go on a beaver shoot.

- You wanna come?

- Nah, I got things to do.

You're not thinkin' of

goin' back out there?

Hell, no. They got some badasses out there.

Not to worry, gentlemen.

Tupperelo's on the job.

If he goes there again, I'll work him over.

When I get through,

he'll think Porky's his momma.

You'd be an idiot

to mess with those shitkickers.

Hey, you guys. They're goin' in.

Miss Walker's with 'em. Come on.

See you later, Mick.

Right.

Jesus Christ. It's the mother lode.

I've never seen so much wool.

You could knit a sweater.

This has gotta be the biggest beaver shoot

in the history of Florida.

Dammit. It's Blubber McNeil.

I can't see a thing, dammit.

Would ya be quiet?

They're startin' to leave. Sh*t.

- Hey, beat it, would ya?

- But I'm missin' it, man.

Would ya shut up?

And you stay on your side.

One, two, three, four, up, down.

And one, two, three, four, up, down.

Goddammit. Will you move it, you lard-ass?

- Sounds like a guy's voice.

- Yeah, but where's it comin' from?

- Is that Tommy Turner?

- Yeah, who is it? Who's back there?

Horny bastards. Get outta here.

Don't be alarmed, girls.

This is your health department.

We're checking out unlicensed pussies.

- Please step forward and spread your legs.

- What are you testin' for?

Originality, neatness and hygiene.

You'd better get outta here,

otherwise you could get in big trouble.

If Pee Wee's with you, you better

cover his eyes. He might get confused.

They're hot. These broads are hot.

They want us to look.

- They're hot, I'm tellin' ya.

- Well, they ain't leavin'.

Well, let's find out.

- What are they doin'?

- Sh*t. One's comin' for it.

Sh*t. B*tch. Funny?

All right, I'll give ya

somethin' to play with.

Tommy, what are you doin'?

Here, chickie chickie. Good chickie. Here, chickie.

Chickie chickie? Here, chickie.

- Here, chickie.

- Wait a minute. I know that guy.

- What's... what's goin' on?

- Tommy...

Hey, hold still, man. She's comin' for it.

Are you shittin' me?

She's droolin'.

Hi. I'm Paulie the Penis,

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