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Heathers

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-Damn. It's your turn Heather.
-No Heather, it's Heather's turn.
Heather.
-Sorry Heather.
-Dear Diary.
Heather told me she teaches people real life.| She said, "Real life sucks losers dry.
If you want to fuck with the eagles,| you have to learn to fly."
I said, "So you teach people| how to spread their wings and fly?"
She said, "Yes". I said, "You're beautiful!".
-God, come on Veronica.
-What is your damage, Heather?
-Don't blame me, blame Heather.| She told me to haul your ass into the caf, pronto.
Back me up, Heather.
-Yeah, she really wants to talk to you.
-Okay, I'm going. Jesus Christ.
-Hello Heather.
-Veronica, finally.
I've got a note of Kurt Kelly's.
I need you to forge a hot and horny,| yet realistically low-key note in Kurt's handwriting
and slip it onto Martha Dumptruck's lunch tray.
-Shit Heather, I don't have anything against Martha Dunstock.
-You don't have anything for her either.| Come on, it'll be very.
The note'll give her shower nozzle| masturbation material for weeks.
-I'll think about it.
-Don't think.
-Veronica needs something to write on| - Heather, bend over.
Dear Martha, you're so sweet...
-I'm telling you man, it would be so righteous| to be in a Veronica Sawyer/Heather Chandler sandwich.
-Oh, hell yes.
-I wanna get a Heather, and put her on my johnson,| and just start spinnin her around like a goddamn pinwheel...
-Punch it in!
-Westerburg feeds the world.
Come on people, let's give that left-over lunch money| to people who don't have lunches.
Those tater-tots you throw away...
-God, aren't they fed yet?
-Come on, let's go.
-Do they even have Thanksgiving in Africa?
-Oh sure, pilgrims, Indians, tater-tots -| it's a real party continent.
-Sawyer, guess what today is.
-Ouch. Lunchtime poll?
-So what's the question?| -Yeah, so what's the question, Heather?
-Goddamn Heather. You were with me| in study hall when I thought of it.
-I forgot.
-Such a pillowcase.
-This wouldn't be that bizarro thing you were babbling| about over the phone last night, would it?
-Of course it is.
I told Dennis if he gives me another political topic, | I'd spew burrito chunks.
-Oh Veronica, I'm sorry.
-Betty Finn, gosh.
-Hey, I'm really sorry I couldn't make it| to your birthday party last month.
-It's okay. Your mom said you had a big date.
Think I'd probably miss my own birthday for a date.
-Don't say that.
-I was looking around the other day and I dug up...| these old photographs.
-Ohh, they're great.
-Come on, Veronica.| -I was talking to somebody.
-Great, it's Heather.
-Oh, shit.
-Hi, Courtney. Love your cardigan.
-Thanks. I just got it last night at Limited.
Like totally blew my allowance.
-Check this out.
You win five million dollars from the Publisher's Sweepstakes,| and the same day that that big Ed guy gives you the cheque,
aliens land on the earth and say| they're going to blow up the world in two days.
What do you do?
-That's easy.
I'd just slide that wad over to my father,| cos he is like one of the top brokers in the State.
-If I got that money,| I'd give it all to the homeless.
Every cent.
-You're beautiful.
-If you're going to openly be a bitch -
-It's just, Heather,| why can't we talk to different kinds of people?
-Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.| Do I look like Mother Theresa?
If I did, I probably wouldn't mind talking to the geek squad.
-Did you see that? Heather #1 just looked right at me!
-Does it not bother you that everybody| in this school thinks that you're a piranha?
-Like I give a shit.
They all want me as a friend or a fuck.
I'm worshiped at Westerburg, and I'm only a junior.
-I can't believe this.
We're going to a party at Remington University tonight,| and we're brushing up on our conversational skills|with the scum of the school.
-Hi| -Hi
-So this is what's called a lunchtime poll.
You win five million dollars in the Publisher's Sweepstakes...
-...and the same day that what's-his-face gives you the cheque...
-...aliens land on earth, and...| ...say they're gonna blow up the world in two days.
-What are you gonna do with the money?
-I'd go to Egypt. With a girl.
-I'd use the money for an end-of-the-world get-together.
-I'd pay Madonna a million bucks to sit on my face| and have her ride like the Kentucky derby...
-That's gotta be the most spooky-assed question I ever heard.
-Alright, this is important. Tax is only the beginning...
-...she should pay me, though.
-You go to the zoo and get a lion,| then you put a remote-control bomb up its butt...
-...social security, legal fees...
-...you push the button on the bomb,| and you and the lion die like one.
-Whaaat?
-Oh my God. Here we go.
-Hi, Veronica.
Five keeps the neighbourhood alive.
-You wanted to be a member| of the most powerful clique in school.
If I wasn't already the head of it,| I'd want the same thing.
Come on Veronica, you used to have a sense of humour.
-Veronica, can you come back here a minute?
-True friend's work is never done.
-Gross. Grow up, Heather.| Bulimia is so '87.
-You know, maybe you should see a doctor.
-Yeah, maybe.
-Come on, Heather,| let's take another look at today's lunch.
-God, Veronica, drool much?
-His name's Jason Dean.| He's in my American History.
-Hello Jason Dean.
-Greetings and salutations.| You're a Heather?
-No, I'm a Veronica... Sawyer.
-This may seem like a really stupid question.
-There are no stupid questions.
-You inherit five million dollars.
The same day aliens land on the earth| and say they're gonna blow it up in two days.
What do you do?
-That's the stupidest question I've ever heard.
-Who does that guy in the coat think he is,| anyways, Bo Diddley?
-Veronica's into his act, no doubt.
-Ahh, I don't know.| Probably row out to the middle of a lake somewhere,
bring along a bottle of Tequila,| my sax and... some bac'.
-How very.
-Come on, Veronica.
-Later.| -Definitely.
-Let's kick his ass!| -Shit Ram. We're seniors man.
We're too old for that kinda crap.| Let's give him a good scare, though.
-You gonna eat this?
-What did your boyfriend say| when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?
-Answer him, dick.
-Hey Ram, doesn't this cafeteria| have a "no fags allowed" rule?
-Well they... seem to have an open-door policy| for assholes, though, don't they?
-What did you say, dickhead?
-Ahh... I'll repeat myself.
-God, they won't expel him.| They'll just suspend him for a week or something.
-He used a real gun.| They should throw his ass in jail.
-No way, he used blanks.| All JD really did was ruin two pairs of pants.
Maybe not even that.| Can you bleach out urine stains?
-You seem pretty amused.
-I thought you had given up on high school guys.
-Never say never.
-So what're you going to do, Heather,| take the two shots or send me out?
-Did you have a brain tumour for breakfast?
First you ask if you can be red,| knowing that I'm always red.
-Oh, shit.
-It's your turn Heather.
-Easy shot Heather.
-No way, no day.
-Give it up, girl.
-Holy shit!| -God, that was incredible.
-Wooh!
-So, tonight's the night. Are you two excited?
-I'm giving Veronica her shot,| her first Remington party.
-You blow it tonight girl,| and it's "keggers with kids" all next year.
-Why?
-Why not?
-Heather, your mother's here.
-Come on, whoever wants a ride.
-Hey, take a break Veronica. Sit down.
So, what was the first week of... | spring vacation withdrawal like?
-I d'know. It was okay I guess.
-Hey kid, isn't the prom coming up?
-I guess.
-Any contestants worth mentioning?
-Maybe... there's kind of a dark horse in the running.
-Goddamn will somebody tell me| why I read these spy novels?
-Cos you're an idiot.| -Oh yeah, that's it.
-You two.
-Great pate, but I gotta motor| if I want to be ready for that party tonight.
-Corn nuts!
-BQ or plain?
-BQ!
-Are you gonna pull a super-chug with that?
-No, but if you're nice,| I'll let you buy me a slushie.
I see you know your convenience-speak pretty well.
-Yeah, well... I've been moved around all my life.
Dallas, Baton, Rouge, Vegas... Sherwood, Ohio.
There's always been a Snappy Snack Shack.
Any town, any time... pop a ham-and-cheese| in the microwave and feast on a turbo dog.
Keeps me sane.
-Really? That thing you pulled in the caf today was pretty severe.
-Yeah well, the extreme always seems to make an impression.
Did you say a cherry or coke slushie?
-I didn't... cherry.
-Great bike.
-Yeah, just a humble perk from my Dad's construction company.
You've seen the commercial, right?| "Bringing every State to a higher state".
-Wait a minute. Jason Dean. Your pop's Big Bud Dean Construction?
Must be rough moving place to place.
-Well everybody's life has got static.| Is your life perfect?
-I'm on my way to a party at Remington University.
No, my life's not perfect. I don't really like my friends.
-I... I don't really like your friends either.
-Well, it's just like they're people I work with,| and our job is being popular and shit.
-Maybe it's time to take a vacation.
-Hello, ladies, throw your coats on the floor.
Ah, Veronica, this is Brad.
-Excellent!
-Did you girls bring your partying slippers, huh?
-Let's party.
-She loves to party.
-Dear Diary.
I want to kill, and you have to believe it's for more than| just selfish reasons, more than just a spoke in my menstrual cycle.
You have to believe me.
-Hey it's so great to be able to talk to a girl| and not have to ask "What's your major?".
I hate that.
So, when you go to college,| what subjects do you think you'll study?
-Come on, David. Shouldn't we get back to the party?
-We will. It's just you're so hot tonight.| I can't control myself.
Oh Christ, I can't explain it, but I'm allowed an understanding| that my parents and these Remington University assholes|have chosen to ignore.
I understand that I must stop Heather.
-How's my little cheerleader, huh?
Oh, I know everyone at your high school isn't so uptight.| Come on...
-Come on, now look, I don't feel so good, okay?| -Hey, *let's do on the coats'll* be excellent, huh?
-You know, I have a little prepared speech I tell my suitor| when he wants more than I'd like to give him.
Gee, Blank, I had a really nice -
-Save the speeches for Malcolm X.
I just wanna get laid!
-You don't deserve my fucking speech.
Betty Finn was a true friend, and I sold her out| for a bunch of Swatch-dogs and Diet Coke-heads.
Killing Heather would be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West...| wait... East... West... God, I sound like a fucking psycho!
-What's your damage?| Brad says you're being a real *kuse*.
-Heather, I feel really sick, like I'm gonna throw up,| so can we please jam now?
-No! Hell No!
Tomorrow, I'll be kissing her aerobicised ass, but tonight,| let me dream of a world without Heather, a world where I am free.
-You stupid fuck!
-You goddamn bitch!
-You were nothing before you met me.| You were playing Barbies with Betty Finn.
You were a bluebird. You were a Brownie.| You were a Girl-Scout cookie.
I got you into a Remington party.| What's my thanks? It's on the hallway carpet.
I got paid in puke.
-Lick it up baby, Lick... it... up!
-Monday morning, you're history.| I'll tell everyone about tonight.
Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson.
No-one at Westerburg's gonna let you| play their reindeer games.
-Dreadful etiquette, I apologise.
-It's okay.
-I saw the croquet setup in the back. You up for a match?
-Mmm... Thank you, that was my... first game of strip croquet.
-Well, you're welcome.
It's a lot more interesting than just flinging off your clothes and| boning away on a neighbour's swing set.
-Mmm... there's a lot to be said for throwing off your - oww!
-What a night... What a life...
They wanted to move me into high school out of the sixth grade| because I was supposed to be this big genius...
-Mmm...| -...then we decided to chuck the idea,|because I'd have trouble making friends,
blah blah blah... Now blah blah blah is all I do.
I use my grand IQ to decide what colour gloss to wear,| and how to hit three keggers before curfew.
-Mmm... Heather Chandler is one bitch that deserves to die.
-Killing her won't solve anything.
I say we just grow up, be adults and die.
But before that,| I'd like to see Heather Chandler puke her guts out.
-Trust me, she skips the Saturday morning trip to Grandma's,| even when she's not hungover.
-We'll just concoct ourselves a little hangover cure| that'll induce her to spew red, white and blue, then.
-What about like milk and orange juice.| What's the up-chuck factor on that?
-I'm a no-rust-build-up man, myself.
-Don't be a dick. That stuff'll kill her.
-Yeah...
-I know, we can cook up some soup, and put it in a coke.
It's... it's pretty sick, eh?
Now should it be chicken noodle or bean with bacon?
-Put a lid on that stuff.| I say we go with big blue here.
-What are you talking about?| She would never drink anything that looked like that, anyway.
-So we'll... put it in this.
She won't be able to see what she's drinking.
-It's only in a cup, jerk.
-Okay, milk and orange juice.
Mmm... well maybe we could cough up| a phlegm *globber or something*.
-Mmm...
-No?
Oh well, milk and orange juice will do it quite nicely.
-Mmm... you chicken?
-You're not funny.
-I'm sorry. Ahh...
-Veronica...| -What?
-Ahh... never mind. I'll... I'll carry the cup.
-Morning Heather.
-Veronica... Jesse James. Quelle surprise.
Hear about Veronica's affection for regurgitation?
-Heather, I think last night we both said| a lot of stuff we didn't mean.
-Did we? How the hell didcha get in here?
-Umm... Veronica knew you'd have a hangover,| so I whipped this up for you. It's a family recipe.
-What did you do, put a phlegm globber in it or something?| I'm not gonna drink that piss.
-I knew this stuff'd be too intense for her.
-Intense. Grow up!| You think I'll drink it just because you call me chicken?
Just give me the cup, jerk.
-Corn nuts!
-Oh my God. I can't believe it.
I just killed my best friend.
-And your worst enemy.| -Same difference.
-What're we gonna tell the cops?
Fuck it, if she can't take a joke, Searge?
-Oh the cops. I can't believe this is my life.
Oh my God.
I'm gonna have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin instead of Stanford.
-Ohh... alright...
I'm just a little freaked, here.| At least you got whatcha wanted, y'know?
-Got what I wanted?
It is one thing to want somebody out of your life,| it is another thing to serve them a wake-up cup full of liquid drainer.
-We did a murder and that's a crime,| but...
this were like a suicide thing, y'know?
-Like a suicide thing?
-Yeah. I mean, you can do Heather's handwriting| as well as your own, right?
...Right?
-You might think what I've done is shocking -
-Umm... to me, though, suicide is the natural answer| to the myriad of problems life has given me.
-That's good, but Heather would never use the word "myriad".
-This is the last thing she'll ever write| - she'll want to cash in on as many fifty cent words as possible.
-Yeah, but she missed "myriad" on the vocab test two weeks ago.
-It proves my point more.| The word is a badge for her failures at school.
-Oh. Okay, you're probably right.
People think that just because you're beautiful and popular,
life is easy and fun.
No-one understood, I had feelings too.
-I die knowing no-one knew the real me.
-That's good.
Have you done this before?
-Any other principal'd take the same position.
Keep things business as usual.
-Heather Chandler's not your every-day suicide.
She was very popular.
-Come on, Paul.
If I let these kids out before lunch,| the switchboard'd light up like a Christmas tree.
-I must say I was impressed to see| that she made proper use of the word "myriad" in her suicide note.
-I find it profoundly disturbing| that we're told of the tragic destruction of youth,
and all we can think to talk about is adequate mourning times| and misused vocabulary words.
-Christ.
-We must revel in this revealing moment.
Look, I suggest that we get everybody together,
both students and teachers, in the cafeteria,
and just... talk, and... feel, together.
-Thank you, Miss Fleming,| you call me when the shuttle lands.
-Now, is this Heather the cheerleader?
-That would be Heather McNamara.
-Damn. I'd be willing to go half a day for a cheerleader.
-God, it's unfair. It's just so unfair.
We should get off a whole week, not just an hour.
-Write the school board.
-Watch it Heather, you might be digesting food there.
-Yeah, where's your urge to purge?| -Fuck it.
-Look...
-Heather left behind one of her Swatches.
She'd want you to have it, Veronica.
She always said you couldn't accessorise for shit.
-Sorry to hear about your friend.| Thought she was your usual airhead bitch.
Guess I was wrong. We all were.
-What a waste.
-Oh, the humanity.
-Veronica...
-Veronica, what are you doing?
-I'm just so... thrilled...
...to finally have an example of the profound sensitivity| of which a human animal is capable.
That example is Heather Chandler.
I have her note.
Now, I'm going to pass this note around the class,| so you can all feel its pathetic beauty for yourself.
And while we do this,| I think its a good opportunity to share the...
...feelings that this suicide has spurred in all of us.
Now, who would like to begin?
-I heard it was really gnarly.
She sucked down a bowl of multi-purpose| deodorizing disinfectant, and then smash!
-Uh, now, Tracey, let's not rehash the coroner's report.| Let's talk emotions.
-Um. Heather and I used to go out,| and she said I was boring,
but now I realize I really wasn't boring,
it's just that she was dissatisfied with her life.
-That's very good, Peter.
-Are we going to be tested on this?
"You know, we were the same size,| so sometimes we could borrow each other's clothes,|and mix it up. It was fun".
"I remember I won her a rhino at the 4H Club, for -"| -Oh you're an asshole. Mute him.
"You know, we liked the same kind of clothes -"| -Heather, how many networks did you run to?
"we liked a lot of the same things."| "It's not going to be the same here without her -"
-What're you talking about?| You hated her, she hated you.
"every English class, I looked forward to seeing her -"
-Heather Chandler's more popular than ever, now.
-Scary stuff.
-Hey, son, I didn't hear you come in.
-Hey, dad, how was work today?
It was miserable.
Some damn tribe of withered old bitches| doesn't want us to terminate that fleabag hotel.
Huh. All because Glenn Miller and his band| once took a shit there.
Just like Kansas. Remember fucking Kansas?
-Yeah, that was the one with the wheat, right?
-'eah... "Save The Memorial Oak Tree" Society.| Showed those fucks.
-Thirty of those 4th of July fireworks attached to the trunk.
Arraigned, but acquitted.
-Gosh, pop, I almost forgot to introduce my girlfriend.
-Veronica, this is my Dad. Dad - Veronica.
-Hi
-Son, why don't you ask your little friend to stay for dinner?
I can't, my Mom's making my favourite meal tonight,| spaghetti... lots of oregano.
-How nice.
Last time I saw my Mom, she was waving from a library window in Texas.
Right Dad?
-Right... son.
-Right.
-Hey, take a break Veronica. Sit down.
-So, what was the first day after Heather's suicide like?
-I d'know. It was okay, I guess.
-Terrible thing.
-So... we get to meet this dark horse prom contender?
-Maybe.
-Goddamn will somebody tell me| why I smoke these damn things?
-Cos you're an idiot.
-Oh yeah, that's it.
-You two.
-Great pate, but I gotta motor| if I want to be ready for that funeral.
-I blame not Heather, but rather a society
that tells its youth that| the answers can be found in the MTV video games.
We must pray that the other teenagers of Sherwood, Ohio
know the name of that righteous dude| who can solve their problems.
It's Jesus Christ, and he's in the book.
-Amen.
-Oh God, this is a tragic thing and| sometimes I have a hard time dealing with it and stuff.
Please send Heather to Heaven and all that.
-Dear God, please make sure this never happens to me,| cos I don't think I can handle suicide.
Plus, early acceptance into an Ivy League school| and please let it be Harvard. Amen.
Jesus, God in Heaven, why didcha kill such hot snatch?
Hey, it's a joke, man.| Jeez, people are so serious.
Hail Mary who aren't in Heaven,| pray for all the sinners, so we don't get caught.
Another joke man.
-I prayed for the death of Heather Chandler many times,
and I felt bad every time I did it,| but I kept doing it anyway.
Now I know you understood everything.
Praise Jesus, Hallelujah.
-Hi, I'm sorry.
Technically I did not kill Heather Chandler, but hey,
who am I trying to kid, right?
I just want my high school to be a nice place.
Amen.
Did that sound bitchy?
-Veronica, what're you doing tonight?
-I don't know, mourning, maybe watch some TV. Why?
-Well, Ram asked me out tonight,| but he wants to double with Kurt,
and Kurt doesn't have a date.
-Heather, I have something going with JD.
-Please Veronica, put Billy the Kid on hold for tonight.
I'm your best friend.
-So, we on tonight, man, or what?
-I don't know.
Still got to talk to Heather, dude.
Great funeral, huh?
-That pudwacker just stepped on my foot.
-Let's kick his ass!| -Cool off. We're seniors.
-You goddamn geek.
-Uh, well...
Sit and spin.
-Little prick.
-You piece of shit bag, you like to suck big dicks?
-Oww...
-Say I like to suck big dicks.
-Leave him a-lone, Ram.
-Oww...
-Say it...
Say it.
-Okay, okay.
-You like to suck big dicks.
-Oh, oh,
I like to suck big dicks.
Mmmm... Mmmmmm...
I can't get enough of 'em. Are you satisfied?
-Don't worry, Ram's been so sweet lately,| consoling me and stuff.
It'll be really very.
Promise.
-Okay, just as long as it's not one of those nights when| they get shit-faced and take us to a pasture to tip cows.
-Is he sleeping, dude?
-I think so, man.
-Come here...
-Shit...
-Cow-tipping's the fuckin' greatest.
-Punch it in!
-Owww... okay on the count of three, guy.
-One, two, three.
-When I get that feeling,| I need sexual healing.
-Yeah, right, asshole.
-What is this shit?
-Doing a favour for Heather.
Double date.
I tried to tell you at the funeral,| but you rode off.
-Another fuckin' Heather.
Sorry, I'm feeling a little superior tonight.
Seven schools in seven states,| and the only thing different is my locker combination.
Our love is God.
Let's go get a slushie.
-I'm not belittling the foodless fund, Peter,| it's just that we're talking teenage suicide here.
Ask Alison: The number one song on America today is| "Teenage suicide, don't do it" by Big Fun.
Jesus man, Westerburg finally got one of these things,| and I'm not gonna blow it!
-Great. So Heather gets the front page,| and I get crammed in by the Taco Bell coupons.
-Hi guys.
Came to check up on this weeks lunch time poll topic.
-Don't worry about it Veronica. Sit down.
The funeral yesterday must really have been rough, eh?
-Oh, yeah...
-We were wondering if you had any poems...
artwork that Heather did that we can put| in the Heather Chandler Yearbook Spring.
-The what?
-Come here, take a look.
A two page layout, with her suicude note| right up here in the corner.
It's more tasteful than it sounds.
-I don't know Dennis,| this stuff leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
-Like last night, Veronica?
-Excuse me? I don't get it.
-What you did last night.
Kurt told us of your little date.
-Yeah, and? I left him drunk and flailing in cow shit.
-Well, I don't know,| he was really detailed...
-Shut up, Courtney.
-No, don't shut up, I'd like to know exactly what I did.
-Come on, Veronica.| I'll show you the lunch time poll topic.
-What the fuck?
-OK, I rarely listen to neanderthals like Kurt Kelly,| but he said that he and Ram had a nice little sword fight|in your mouth last night.
-You know what I mean?
-No!
That son-of-a-bitch!
-Hi Kurt. Hi, this is Veronica Sawyer.
Yeah, I didn't expect to be calling either,| I guess my emotions took over...
I was wondering if you wanted all those things| you've been saying to really happen?
It's always been a fantasy of mine| to have two guys at once.
Sure, you can write to Penthouse Forum.
Yeah, in the woods behind the school.
At dawn. Don't forget Ram!
-I don't get the point of me writing a suicide note| when we'll just going to be shooting them with blanks.
-We're not going to be using blanks, this time.
-You can't be serious.
-I am.
-Listen, my Bonnie and Clyde days are over.
-Wait a second, wait a second. Do you take german?
-French.
-Alright, these are Ich Luge bullets.
-My grandfather snared a shitload of them back in WWII.
They're like tranquillizers, only they break the surface of the skin,| enough to cause a little blood, but no real damage.
-So it looks like the person has been shot and killed,| and really they're just laying there unconsious and bleeding?
-Right.
We shoot Kurt and Ram,| make it look like they shot each other.
By the time they regain consiousness| they will be the laughing stock of the whole school.
The note's the punchline, how did that turn out?
-First tell me the similarity is not increadible.
-Incredible similarity...
-OK.
Ram and I died the day we realized
we could never reveal our forbidden love| to an uncaring and ununderstanding world.
The joy we shared in each others arms was greater| than any touch down,
yet we were forced to live the lives of sexist,| beer guzzling jock assholes.
-It's perfect.
Let's take a look at some the homosexual artifacts| I dug up to plant at the scene.
Alright.
An issue of Stud Puppie.
-Great.
-Candy dish.
Joan Crawford postcard.
Let's see...
Some mascara.
Alright. Here's the one perfecto thing I picked up.
Mineral water.
-Oh, come on, a lot of people drink mineral water.
It's come a long way.
-Yes, but this is Ohio.
I mean, if you don't have a brewski in your hand| you might as well be wearing a dress.
-Oh, you're so smart.
-Hi Veronica!
-Hi guys!
I'm glad you could make it.
-So, should I just whoop it out, or?
-Well, I made a circle on each side of the clearing...
Ram you come over here.
Kurt...
When you get to the circle, strip!
-What about you?
I was kind of hoping| you could rip my clothes off me, sport?
-Good idea.
-OK, count of three guys?
One...
Two...
-Three!
-Wow!
-Did you miss him completely?
Yes, but don't worry.| It was worth it, just to see the look on him!
-Don't move, I'll get him back.
-Now!
-Hey, I heard it that time!| -What?
-Another gun shot, from the woods.| -Shit! Let's roll!
-Kurt doesn't look to good.
-Just remember he's left handed.
-Mother of shit!| -Call in.
-Hey, I heard something out there,| I'm checking it out.
-Yeah, this is officer McCord.| I've got two dead bodies in the woods behind Westerburg High.
-Can you hear me?| What's going down?
-Yeah, yeah.
I think what I heard bak there was a bunny rabbit.
All I got here is two kids making out in a station wagon.
Should I pry them apart?
-No, no, no. Forget it,| I've got all the answers here.
Are they naked?
-So, what's the deal?
-Suicide. Double suicide.| They shot each other.
-Hey, that's Kurt Kelly!
-Yeah, and the line backer Ram Sweeney.
-My god, suicide. Why?
-Does this answer your question?
-Oh man, they were fags!
-Listen up.
-"We realized we could never reveal our forbidden love| to an uncaring and ununderstanding world."
-Jesus H Christ!
-The quarter back, buggering the line backer.
-What a waste!
-Oh, the humanity!
-So we killed them, didn't we?
-Of course!
-Ich Luge bullets! I'm such an idiot!
-Look. You believed it, because you wanted to believe it.
Your true feelings were to gross and icky for you to face.
-I did NOT want them dead!
-You did too!
-I did not!| -Did too!
-Shut up! I did not want them to...| -Come on! You did. You're just not...
-Young love...
-Did you hear? School's cancelled today,| because Kurt and Ram killed themselves|in a repressed homosexual suicide pact.
-No way!
-God!
-Football season is over, Veronica.
-Kurt and Ram had nothing to offer this school| but date rapes and AIDS jokes.
-Sure...
Could we make an ice run before the funeral?
-If there's any way you can hear me, Kurt buddy...
I don't care that you really were some pansy...
You're my own flesh and blood| and you made me proud.
My son's a homosexual and I love him!
I love my dead gay son!
-How do you think he'd react| to a son that had a limp wrist with a pulse?
-Dear diary.| My teen angst bullshit has a body count.
The most popular people in school are dead.
Everybody is sad, but it's a wierd kind of sad.
Suicide gave Heather depth,| Kurt a soul, Ram a brain.
I don't know what it's getting me,| but I've got no control over myself when I'm with JD.
Are we going to prom or to hell?
-Now. It seems we were in a similar position on Monday,
when I thoughtfully suggested we'd get everybody together| for an unadultarated emotional outpour.
But no. You took this as an opportunity to play| yet another round of Lets Laugh At The Hippie.
-Pauline...
-Shut up, Paul!
I've seen a lot of bullshit.
Angel Dust, switchblades, sexually perversed| photography exhibits involving tennis rackets...
but this suicide thing...| I guess that's more on Paulines wavelength.
We're just gonna write off today,
and on friday Pauline can hold| her little "love-in", or whatever.
-Attention!
May I have your attention, please?
This school has been torn apart by tragedies.
I'm here today to fuse it back again, in togetherness.
I want everybody to clap hands.
We need to connect this cafeteria| into one mighty circuit!
Look! Here's the TV crew!| Clap your hands!
-Look's like Ms Phlegm's on another one of her crusades.
Usual success, of course.
-Hi, what's your name?
-Hi, I'm Heather Duke.
-Is this as good for you as it is for me?
-Greetings and salutations!
-I need a copy of all this by Monday| for my Princeton application.
-That thing this afternoon!
I'm so angry! It was chaos, fucking chaos.
-What are you talking about?
-I mean, today was great! Chaos is great!
Chaos is what killed the dinosaures, darling.
Face it, our way is the way.| I mean, we scare people into not being assholes!
Our way is not 'our' way!
-Tell that to the judge, alright.| Tell it to Kurt Kelly!
-'Oh, God, Veronica!'| -I'm telling it to you!
God, you can be SO immature!
-Oh, you kids are making too much damn noise!
-We beat the bitches.
-Beautiful. The Beaver is home.
-The judge told them to slurp shit and die.
I put a Norwegian in the boiler room.
Masterful!
And then, when that blew...
it set off a pack of thermals I stuck upstairs.
Some days it's great to be alive.
-Do you like your father?
-I've never given the matter much thought.
I liked my mother.
They said her death was an accident,| but she knew what she was doing.
She walked into the building two minutes| before my dad blew the place up.
She waved at me, and then...
Boom.
-Dudes, if I'm getting one more request for that Big Fun song,| _I_ am gonna commit suicide!
-Hey, they're playing our song!
-Here it is: "Teenage Suicide, don't do it".
-That's it! We're breaking up!
-What?
-You you can't bring them back, you must know that.
-I am not trying to bring anybody back| except maybe myself.
-And to think there was a time| when I actually thought you were cool!
Man, if you can't deal with me now,| then just stay home and shoot your TV.
Blow up a couple of toasters or something.
Just don't come to school, and don't mess with me!
-You'll be back!
-Me and Martha Dumptruck?
Where did you get this?
-Ah, I just had the nicest little chat with Ms Dumptruck.
We got along famously.
Kind of scary though that| everybody has got a little story to tell.
Do you wanna see the canoeing shots?
-What is this? Blackmail?
I'll give you a weeks lunch money.
-I don't want your money.
I want your strength.
Westerburg doesn't need mushy togetherness,| it needs a strong leader.
Heather Chandler was that leader, but...
-But she couldn't handle it.
-I think you can.
Moby Dick is dunked.
The white whale drank some bad plankton| and splashed through a coffee table.
Now it's your turn to take the helm.
-What about the photographs?
-Don't worry.
I'll ask you to do me a favour,| it'll be one you'll enjoy.
And you'll get the negatives and everything back then.
But in the mean time... strength.
Here's a little gift.
Have a good day, Heather.
-Guess who?| -Heather?
-Hello?| -Hello Betty?
This is Veronica.
-I don't believe it, I'm winning!
-Don't you start getting cocky on me now, girl.
-I've really missed you.
I know I'm not as exciting as your other friends.
-That is bullshit. Shoot.
-Do you know I'm still a virgin?
Ok, I french kissed Al Springler once.
Total disaster!
-Shoot the ball!
-You know Betty, your day dreams are| much better than my reality, believe me...
But know, prepare to die.
-Ronnie!
-You're not gonna go for just those two shots?
Go ahead, knock me out.
It's the only way to win.
It's not my style.
-Nice guys finish last. I should know.
-Bravo.
-Brav-o!
-I gotta go home, OK?
-OK.
-Thanks.
-Bye, Betty.
-Betty, leaving so soon?
-I'm red.
"The Westerburg suicides were tough on all of us.
But we shared the pain of losing| three very popular students.
I came into the cafeteria| and asked them to hold hands, ..."
-Isn't that the flake we met at the Open House?
"... in a burst of cleansing syncronicity,| TV cameras happened upon the scene"
-Cleansing syncronicity?
-Outpouring of emotion?
-Look! There's Heather!
-And there's Heather!| Where are you, Veronica?
"Before a teenager decides to kill himself,| there are certain facts that he should know.
After all, this is a decision that effects all of us.
And there's only one chance to get it right."
-Turn that back on!
-Can't you see these programs| are eating suicide with a spoon?
They make it sound like it's a cool thing to do!
-Are you telling me this is not a time for troubled youth?
Stand up straight.
-All we want is to be treated like human beings.
Not experimented on like guinea pigs,| or patronized like bunny rabbits.
-I don't patronize bunny rabbits!
-Treated like human beings?
Is that what you said,| little Ms. Voice-of-a-Generation?
Just, how do you think adults act with other adults?
Do you think it's just like a game of doubles tennis?
When teenagers complain that| they wants to be treated like human beings,
it's usually because| they ARE being treated like human beings.
-I guess I picked the wrong time to be a human being.
-You'll live...
Want some pate?
-Hi everybody, the door was open.
Veronica, have you heard?
We were doing chinese at the food fair| when it comes over the phone that|Martha Dumptruck tried to buy the farm.
She belly flopped in front of a car,| wearing a suicide note.
-Is she dead?
-No, that's the punchline.
She's alive, and in stabile condition.
Just another example of a geek trying to imitate| the popular people at school, failing miserably.
Is that pate?
-I said I was sorry!
-You were out of control!
I mean, Heather and Kurt were a shock,| but Martha Dumptruck?
Get crucial. She has dialed| the suicide hotline since she was in diapers.
-You're not funny.
-Look.
Martha couldn't take the heat,| so she got out of the kitchen.
Just think what a better place this world would be| if every moron followed her cue.
-Shut up. Hot Probs is on.
-Oh, shit, yeah.
-It's like Skip is Ok, but still,| sometimes I feel like I'm on that island...
And Gilligan can just be so stupid sometimes.
-Well, dude, just remember:| if it wasn't for the fearless crew,
the minnow would be lost, and you are too.
-Next call!
-That sounded like a big one.| -You've got the dog catcher!
-My name is Heather.
No, it's not Heather.
No
It's Madonna.
Jeez, no, not that.
-Hey babe, I need a name.
-My name is Tweety.
-Tweety? Oh, tweet!
-God has cursed me, I think.
The last guy I had sex with, killed himself the next day.
I'm failing math, my whole life is a mess.
I was supposed to be captain of the cheerleading team...
-She knows we listen to this show...
-Holy shit! We'll crucify her!
-My parents are divorced and stuff...
-Heather told everyone about Heather.
Yes, dear diary.
I cut off Heather Chandlers head,| and Heather Dukes head has sprung right back in its place,
like some mythological thing| my eigth grade boyfriend would have known about.
Heather's even doing the old note trick.
I've seen JD's way.
I've seen Ms Pauline Flemings way| and nothing has changed.
I guess that's Heathers way.
And Jesus, what about JD?
I can't get him out of my head!
Wait. Where's Heather going?
-Where's Heather going?
-She's going to cry!
-Fucking child protected caps!
-Where's she going?
-Heather!
-What are you trying to do? Kill me?
-What are you trying to do? Sleep?
-Suicide is a private thing.
-Heather, you're throwing your life away| to become a statistics in the US fucking A Today.
That's about the least private thing I can think of.
-What about Heather and Kurt and Ram?
-If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?
-Probably.
-If you're happy every day of your life,| you wouldn't be a human being,
you'd be a game show host.
-What do you say we knock off early and| buy some shoes or something lame like that?
-OK.
-So it has come to this...
Heather Chandler did polls,| I want you to do a petition.
As a favour. As THE favour.
You've heard of the group Big Fun, right?
-That's right. "Teenage suicide, don't do it".
-Right. Some teeny-bopper rag say| they want to play a prom.
Could be Westerburg's if we get everybody's John Hancock.
-I'll get right on, coach.
A little gift for you, I won't be needing it.
-Heather?
-Veronica. Color me stoked, girl.
I've gotten everybody to sign this petition.
Even those who think Big Fun are tuneless Euro fags.
People love me! You know, you haven't signed yet.
-People love you, but I know you.
Jennifer Forbes said the petition| she signed was to put a hot tub in the cafeteria,
and Doug Hilton said...| -Some people need different kinds of convincing than others.
Just sign the petition, OK?
-Don't talk to me like that, OK?
-Look, it was JD's idea.
He made out the signature sheets and everything,| so why don't you just sign it!
-No.
-Jealous much?
-Heather, why can't you just be a friend?
Why are you such a mega bitch?
-Because I can be.
Veronica, why are you pulling my dick?
Do you think...
I mean, do you really think| if Betty Finns fairy godmother made her cool,
she'd still hang out with her dweebette friends?
No way, Veronica.
-Want to go out tonight?
Catch a movie, you know, some miniature golf?
-I was thinking more along the lines| of slitting Heather Dukes wrists open,
making it look like a suicide.
-Now you're talking!
I could be up for that.
I've already started underlining meaningful| passages in her copy of "Moby Dick",
if you know what I mean.
I knew you'd be back...
I knew it. I was positive, I was sure.
-It's over JD, over. Grow up!
-I don't get it! You were wrong, and I was right!
Strength, damn it!
Come on, come back!
-Yes?
-Your friend Jason Dean stopped by,| he seemed very concered about you.
He said that he thought| you might try to kill yourself.
-You've been depressed lately.
Oh, he left this for you.
-Oh my God.
-He said we should keep you away from sharp objects,
closed garage doors, chemicals, prescription drugs...
-"...and even for hate, thou cans't but kill,| and all are killed".
I like it.
It's got that "what a cruel world,| so lets toss ourselves in the abyss" type of ambience.
-Come on! It's Heathers copy of Moby Dick.
Why don't you give it a try.| Underline something.
-Get off of my bed, you fucking psycho!
You're a rebel?| Do you actually think you're a rebel?
You're not a rebel, you're a fucking psychotic!
-You say tomato, I say tomato...
Hold it! "Eskimo"!
It's one word...
I love it!
I usually go for the whole sentence myself,| but this is perfecto!
Eskimo, you know...
It's so... mysterious.
Es-ki-mo.
-Come on!
-JD, you're not listening to me!
-Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag!
-The knife is filthy!
-What do you think I'm gonna do with it?| Take out her tonsils?
-Excuse me, I think I know Heather| a little bit better than you do.
If she was going to slip her wrists,| the knife would be spotless.
-Here! Now can you see your fucking reflection in the thing?
-Tomorrow someone else is just going to move into her place.
That person could be me...
Ha! There's only one of us| who knows how to do Heathers handwriting!
And if you think I'm gonna write| another suicide note you're wrong!
-You don't get it, do you?
Society nodds its head on any horror the american| teenager can think of, to bring upon herself.
Nobody's gonna care about exact handwriting! Look!
Life sucks!
It's perfecto.
I've got a meaningful marked-up Moby Dick,| what else does a suicide need?
Now, if you'll excuse me...
-No!
Open the door!
-Eskimo!
Heather Duke underlined a lot of things| in this copy of Moby Dick,
but I believe the word "Eskimo" underlined all by itself,
is the key to understanding Heather's pain.
On the surface, Heather Duke was| the vivacious young lady we all knew her to be,
but her soul was in Antartica!
Freezing with the knowledge of the way| fellow teenagers can be cruel,
the way that parents can be unresponsive.
And as she writes so elequently in her suicide note,
the way that life can suck!
We'll all miss Sherwoods little eskimo.
Lets just hope she's rubbing noses with Jesus!
-Is this turning out weak, or what?
It was at least 70 more people at my funeral.
-Heather?
-God, Veronica.
My afterlife is SO boring.
If I have to sing Kumbaya one more time...
-What are you doing here?
-I made your favorite. Spaghetti.
Lots of oregano.
Dinner!
-Veronica! Dinner!
-Dear Diary, last entry.
No one can stop JD.
Not the FBI, the CIA, or the PTA.
He once told me the extreme always makes an impression.
Well, now it's my turn.
Lets see how this son of a bitch reacts| to a suicide he didn't perform himself!
-Can't believe you did it!
I was teasing.
I loved you!
Sure, I was coming up here to kill you...
First I was gonna try and get you back| with my amazing petition.
It's a shame you can't see| what our fellow students really signed.
Listen.
"We, students at Westerburg High, will die.
Today our burning bodies will be| the ultimate protest to a society that degrades us.
Fuck you all!"
It's not very subtle, but neither is| blowing up a whole school, now is it?
Talk about your suicide pacts, eh?
When our school blows up tomorrow,
it's gonna be the kind of thing to affect a whole generation!
It'll be the Woodstock of the eighties!
Damn it, Veronica!
We could have toasted some marshmallows together!
-What does she want, a written invitation?
Veronica! Dinner!
-Shit.
-Veronica!
I... Oh...
I should have let you take that job at the mall.
It was just that... I was afraid| you coming home late at night,
and I...
-Hey mom! Why so tensed?
-Hey pap, I need some help with my homework!
-Not right now tiger, I'm a little busy.
-Veronica!
JD told me you comitted suicide last night!
-Where is he? Where is JD?
-We have to talk.
Whether to kill himself or not is| the most important desisions a teenager can make.
-Get a job!
-Rodney, where's everybody going?
-It's friday.
-Shit, another pep rally.
-These things can get pretty artifical,| but at least you get out of class.
-Rodney, what's underneath the gym?
-The boiler room...
-May I see your hall pass?
-I knew that loose was too noose.
I mean, noose too loose.
Damn you!
-Like father, like son.
A serious-as-fuck bomb in the boiler room| to set off a pack of thermals upstairs.
OK. Lets start by putting the bomb down on the ground.
I knew that! I knew that...
OK, put your hands on your head.
-You didn't say "Simon says".
-Do you think that just because| you started this thing you can end it?
-I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you,| I swear to God!
How do I turn off the goddamn bomb, asshole?
-Fuck you!
-Shit!
-It's all over JD, help me stop it!
You want a clean slate as much as I do.
Alright, so maybe I am killing everyone in the school,| because nobody loves me!
Lets face it, alright!
The only place where different social types can genuinly| get along with each other is in heaven.
-Which button do I press to turn it off?
-Try the red one, alright?
Seriously, people are gonna look| at the ashes of Westerburg, and say:
There is a school the self destructed| not because society didn't care,
but because the school WAS society.
Pretty deep, eh?
-WHICH red button?
-Press the one in the middle to turn it off...
if that's what you really want.
-Do you know what I'd want, babe?
-What?
-Cool guys like you out of my life.
-I'm impressed.
You... You really fucked me up| pretty bad, Veronica.
You...
You've got power...
Power I didn't think you had.
The slate is clean.
Pretend I did blow up the school.
All the schools.
Now that you're dead,| what are you gonna do with your life?
-Veronica? You look like hell!
-Yeah? I just got back.
-Veronica, what are you doing?
-Heather my love,| there's a new sheriff in town.
-Hey, Martha! My date for the prom kind of flaked out on me...
I was wondering, if you aren't doing anything that night,| maybe we could rent some new releases?
Pop some popcorn?
-I'd like that.
-Yeah, so would I.
Synchronized by nick_tymczasowy
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Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy The - Episode 6
Hitlerjunge Salomon - Europa Europa
Hitman
Hitokiri Tenchu 1969 CD1
Hitokiri Tenchu 1969 CD2
Hobbit The
Hocus Pocus
Hole The
Hole in the Head A
Holes CD1
Holes CD2
Hollow Man
Hollow The (2004)
Hollywood Ending CD1
Hollywood Ending CD2
Hollywood Homicide 2003 CD1
Hollywood Homicide 2003 CD2
Holy Man
Holy Matrimony (1994)
Holy Smoke CD1
Holy Smoke CD2
Hombre
Home Alone 1990
Home Alone 2 - Lost in New York
Home Alone 3
Home Alone 4
Home At The End Of The World A
Home On The Range
Home from the Sea
Homem Que Copiava O 2003 CD1
Homem Que Copiava O 2003 CD2
Homerun CD1
Homerun CD2
Homme-orchestre L (Serge Korber 1970)
Homolka a Tobolka
Honest 2000
Honey
Honeymoon Killers The
Honkytonk Man
Hororr hotline (2001)
Horse Whisperer The CD1
Horse Whisperer The CD2
Horseman on the Roof The
Horses Mouth The
Hostile Waters 1997
Hot Chick The
Hot Wheels World Race CD1
Hot Wheels World Race CD2
Hound of Baskervilles The
Hour of the Wolf
Hours The
House By The Cemetary The
House Of The Spirits CD1
House Of The Spirits CD2
House With The Windows That Laugh
House of 1000 Corpses
House of Frankenstein
House of Games (1987)
House of Mirth The
House of Sand and Fog 2003 CD1
House of Sand and Fog 2003 CD2
House of flying daggers
House of the Dead
House of the Flying Daggers
Houseboat
How Green Was My Valley
How High
How The West Was Won 1962 CD1
How The West Was Won 1962 CD2
How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days
How to Beat the High Cost of Living
How to Keep My Love 2004
How to Murder Your Wife 1965
How to Steal a Million CD1
How to Steal a Million CD2
How to deal
Howards End
Hratky s certem
Hudsucker Proxy The
Hulk The - Special Edition
Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam
Hum Kaun Hai
Hum Tum
Hum Tumhare Hain Sanam
Human Beast The CD1
Human Beast The CD2
Human lanterns
Hunchback of Notre Dame II The
Hunchback of Notre Dame The
Hundstage
Hundtricker the movie
Hungama
Hunger The 1983
Hunt For Red October CD1
Hunt For Red October CD2
Hunted The
Hunter The
Huozhe (Lifetimes) CD1
Huozhe (Lifetimes) CD2
Huozhe CD1
Huozhe CD2
Hurricane 1937
Hurricane The CD1
Hurricane The CD2
Hyojadongibalsa 2004
Hypnosis (Saimin 1999)
Hypnotic Doctor Sleep
Hypnotist The 1999
Hypnotized The
Hypo-Chondri-Cat The (1950)