Sundown Page #8

Oh, no, mom!

I'm your son.

Put that...

Put that away, no.

What happened here?

Where...

Where is my watch?

What? What?

What the f*** is this?

F***! F***!

Sir, we're looking

for Gabriella.

- $50.

- There's been a mistake.

You are not the Gabriella

we're looking...

- Oh, yeah!

- Whoa!

Who takes photos here?

Run!

- Oh, sh*t!

- Bring me back some weed.

Across international borders?

Stick it up your butt

or something.

Trick or treat, b*tches!

How sick is this?

I'm a robot.

I'm a dance...

- stop!

Dude, are you kidding me?

- Logan:
Hurry up, Princess!

- I gotta do my hair, dude!

- I think you're ready!

- Oh, you piece of...

Blake:

Oh, dude!

What are you doing jerking off

in my parent's bedroom?

Why are you walking in

without knocking?

My mom's fitness videos?

Really?

Logan:
Dude, get your

dick away from me.

Dude, seriously, stop it!

Blake:

Just f***ing touch it!

Logan:

Did you just fart?

Are you kidding me, dude?

One, two..

- We're done?

- Yeah, we're done.

Okay.

P*ssy.

Douchebag.

Viva la Mexico?

Aah!

See you, b*tch.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes