And now, the last finalist,
three-time champion
Charlyne Phuc.
Excuse me.
Ah!
First word: Logorrhea.
Logorrhea, um...
L- o-g-o-r-r...
w- wait...
Logorrhea...
like diarrhea, but different.
I mean, they're both
kind of like a spray,
but logorrhea,
that's a spray of words
from the mouth, you know?
And, like, diarrhea,
which is also a spray,
but it comes
from a different orifice.
What in the world?
Ugh.
Fuck, am I, like, way off?
There is breaking news tonight
from the State Spelling Bee
Championship
as Morgan High's own
Charlyne Phuc has been arrested
for drug possession.
Phuc has admitted
using marijuana
during her three-time
championship run
in order to assist her mortal mind
in accessing
the dictionary inscribed
in the fabric of the cosmos...
And that no one would have noticed
if she hadrt been so buttstonked.
Shh.
Shut up, Dave.
Sh... shut up, Dave.
# The wind blows cool
across my face... #
Dave, take my weed.
# I can smell the taste,
a trace of lace #
# There's something
sinister in place... #
- Hold his feet.
- I am, Dave.
- Dave, roll that shit.
- I am, Dave.
- Holy...
- Fuck.
Hey, Mom? I got some
MIT scholarship stuff that I filled out.
If you could drop it in the mail,
I'd appreciate it.
Honey,
I clogged the toilet again.
The plunger should be
under the sink.
- Where?
- The back.
- Oh, I... I got it.
- All right, thanks.
- I love you.
- # My mind slips further #
# From what's real #
# Take my hands away
from the steering wheel... #
# I'm crashing,
coming down in waves #
# And wipe the sweat
from upon my face #
# And it's a perfect day
to leave this place... #
- Ooh.
- # It's a perfect day #
# To hide down
in my own home... #
What the fuck?!
Watch where
the fuck you step, Henry!
Watch where the fuck you step!
# It's a perfect day #
# To waste away... #
# Your perfect part to play... #
# Just another perfect day,
but before you know, it's gone... #
# It's a perfect day to waste away #
- # Your perfect part to play... #
- Shit.
# Just another perfect day,
but before you know, it's gone. #
Oh!
Bravo, fuckers.
"I swallow."
Shut up.
D- Dad. No...
- It won't happen again. I promise.
- I expect you to pay
every last penny
of my deductible.
In the meantime, you can spend
this afternoon in detention.
Yes, sir.
- Come along, Martin.
- Yes, Daddy.
Hey.
Hey, Breaux.
I hit Dr. Gordon because of you.
I shouldn't have to pay
for his car, man.
All right, well, tough shit.
I mean, you're the one who crashed
- into that butthole Gordon.
- To avoid hitting you!
News flash: Wearing headphones
while driving is against the law.
You know, I don't think I should take
behavior advice from a burner flunky.
- Ouch, dude!
- Yeah, well, why don't you take
your science-fair,
national-scholar status
and cram it up your asshole?
You know, Breaux...
Yeah, thank you.
Way to be a hambro.
It wasrt like I made him crash into
that man-whore's piece-of-shit car.
That's what that scrotum
skin tag Gordon gets
for teaching his fat little clone
how to give a hand job.
Rollir on 12s, son.
Aw, come on.
He's behind you!
What?
What?
You know what
the problem is here, Brandon?
Why our average GPA has dropped
three times in as many years?
Uh, the Internet?
The sticky green.
The cannabis sativa.
The sinsemilla.
Marijuana?
Which is serious stuff.
Dangerous stuff, so I hear.
It's a gateway drug.
Hop-heads like Travis Breaux
have been a thorn on my side
ever since they came here.
That little prick has caused me
more pain than you know.
- My cat...
- Yeah?
...developed an abscess on her face.
I rushed her to the vet
emergency room,
but their nitrous oxide tank
had been stolen.
They later tracked the culprits down
to the home of one Travis Breaux.
Without anesthesia,
I had to pin Dolly down.
She scratched my face, my hand.
I developed a terrible infection.
It's called "cat scratch fever."
My stool became
incredibly painful to pass.
I lost weight, but gained body fat.
I was a mess.
Then I heard my wife telling
her friends that I looked lousy.
My attorney advised me against
taking any sort of action.
No evidence to press charges
against Travis Breaux,
but I knew... I knew
he was responsible,
breathing in that laughing gas filth.
They call it "space surfing."
Where do they come up
with all these clever names
for recreational drug use?
Roasting a bone,
candy flipping,
banging down a stiff loosey.
A stiff loosey...
I haven't heard that one.
When a woman from
a sordid underworld social circle
inales powdered cocaine
off of some loser's erect penis
and then doses acid
off of his testicles...
I think it has something
to do with the Beatles.
Now, they ruined our nation...
drugs, fornicating,
a grown man singing
about his feelings.
It's time we win this war,
expunge this school
of all dope fiends.
Henry: So I've created
a hybrid compound
with a resistance two times that
of regular silicon.
Used as the basis material
for electronics,
it would provide
increased protection
against power surges,
magnetic waves.
This is an electromagnetic
pulse generator.
Actually, could everyone
take a step back?
It's a localized pulse, but it will fry
your laptops, your hard drives.
It'll kill your cell phones
if you're too close.
Tick, tick, tick.
So as you can see,
the motherboard
manufactured by my compound
is the undamaged one.
Shit.
Bitter aftertaste of reality?
You come to see
how the other half lives?
- Boy: Mr. Thompson here?
- He went lookir for you.
Hey, fool, that's my shirt
you got on.
I gave it to Goodwill last year.
Fuckir hobo.
Don't trip, Rubin.
I'm sure he washed
your dad's cum off of it.
What the fuck you just say to me?
I said I'm sure he washed
your dad's cum off of it.
Or did some dry up in your ears?
You should clean them fuckers out.
Try an ear candle, yo.
Rubin?
Why aren't you in your seat?
You know, we could have
a little Abu Ghraib action here,
or we could watch our video.
It's your call.
I'm just gonna go ahead
and sit down.
Good choice.
It's all ready. Just hit play.
Everybody, pay attention.
And no talking.
Narrator on TV: With his parents
out of town for the weekend,
Bob bends to the pressure
of his peers to be somebody
and smokes a joint.
That's street talk
for a marijuana cigarette.
Bob lights up and takes a drag.
What he doesn't realize is that
this seemingly harmless act
will bring the walls
of his reality crashing down.
Narrator: Is this your idea
of getting jiggy with it?
Narrator:
Applesauce 10 times a day.
Man on TV:
How are you feeling?
- Boy: This video eats my balls.
- Boy #2: Word.
Woman on TV: Dr. Gibson,
you're wanted in lobotomy room 7.
Dr. Gibson to lobotomy room 7.
Narrator:
It will also help fund terrorism.
I only really want to blow things up
when I'm high.
Think about it.
Man over radio:
Engage. Smoke 'em.
Henry.
Henry, hey, hey.
Look, I'm sorry.
I drive like shit when I'm high.
You were high at 8:00
in the morning?
Yeah, of course.
I'll help you pay for it, all right?
I'll float you some casheesh.
Well, thanks, man.
I'm sorry about
the whole burner, flunky thing.
Oh, no.
It's all good, you know.
- I get worse from my dad, so...
- Right.
- Yeah.
- How's he doir?
Who's he doir?
He's probably balls deep
in some Jell-O mold as we speak.
Right.
So, um, this is me.
Obviously.
Hey, you remember
how I caught you jerking off
with BENGAY
when you were, like, 12?
- Yeah.
- Aw, yo, that shit must have burned!
- Yeah, that's funny.
- I told everybody, and you ran off
in the woods like some
fuckir cracked-out Hobbit.
- Yeah, no, no. I remember.
- Yo, there were helicopters
- looking for you and shit.
- I remember the helicopters.
I was always wondering what the fuck
they were saying to each other.
- Think about it.
- Really?
"Uh, looking for the kid
who just jerked off. Over."
"Did he just come? Over."
"Negativo, Ghost Rider.
Looking for a case of blue balls. Over."
It was like a scene from "The Fugitive,"
but with a naked kid.
Yeah, that's not really proper
pilot speak, but I guess...
I'm just saying we had
some good times.
- Yeah. Yeah, sure.
- Yeah.
The hell happened, do you think?
High school.
Yeah, no doubt.
Hey, look, you know, I was driving
by the old 'hood yesterday.
You remember that tree house,
that lockbox we built?
Yeah, sure. Still there?
Wanna go find out?
- Awesome.
- Oh, my God.
What?
Oh, man, all this shit was
so important back in the day, man.
- Henry: Look at these.
- What?
- You look like a fat Billy Ray Cyrus.
- Yo, wait, man.
We should be fuckir high for this.
This is pharmaceutical-grade
Hindu Kush.
What? Do you have
a prescription for weed?
- You don't?
- What? What does that...
You haven't gotten
high before, have you?
You're afraid you're gonna end up
ripping down big loads
in a cave
with the Shoe Bomber?
Getting high, it's... it's like freedom.
Smells, tastes, feelings...
they all become, like,
four-dimensional.
When everyting irie,
everyting go twing twing.
Yeah, let me...
- Fuck it.
- Be somebody.
So it begins.
Can't wait to have an ex-wife, man.
Can't wait for that shit.
Whers the good part kick in?
Like the... like
the fourth-dimensional stuff.
I want the freedom.
Whers the freedom kick in, Breaux?
L... I want the freedom.
Should we even be here right now?
I mean, won't people
get suspicious?
I mean, they'll call the cops,
send helicopters.
I hate fucking helicopters.
No, nobody's gonna
do anything, man.
We're trespassing.
I mean, do you feel this?
'Cause, holy shit, I mean,
I don't even think this is...
Oh, God.
- You okay?
- The freedom hasn't
kicked in yet, asshole!
Hey, what we need to do
right now is just relax.
Fuck, God damn it!
Where are you?!
Where the fuck are you?!
Helicopters everywhere!
Everywhere!
Breaux over radio: Uh, looking
for the kid who just jerked off. Over.
Did he just come? Over.
Negativo, Ghost Rider.
Looking for a case of blue balls. Over.
There were helicopters.
They were hunting me down.
- It's your phone.
- Shit.
What time is it?
Party time.
- Hey.
- Girl: Henry, where are you?
- I'm so sorry.
- We're all here waiting for you.
- Yeah, I'll be there in 20. Fuck!
- What's going on?
I'm borrowing this. I gotta go
to the annual bake sale prep.
- Can you drive?
- You wanna go now?
Yeah. Yeah, I wanna go now.
All right, man.
Well, I want some road-head, then.
I hope you're good
at swallowing, bro.
It's how I like it.
- Ahh.
- We need some more green.
- Boy: She's got ass for days.
- Boner.
Hey, Sharky. What's crackir?
What's crack-a-lackir?
Girl:
Good job. Good, good.
Hey, Sharky. What's crackir?
- What's crack-a-lackir?
- What up, tough guy?
- Hey, Sharky...
- Oh!
I got it.
Fuck!
Oh, I just got my eyebrow
pierced yesterday!
- About freakir time.
- Hey, guys. Sorry.
- You're such a fucking asshole.
- What?
Sharky Ovante
just gave you an opening!
Microscopic, but still.
You blew it.
Yeah.
We grew up next door
to each other.
We used to play together
till she grew breasts.
And that was that.
I ran the numbers.
Assuming we both ace our finals,
it seems to me
you have valedictorian
by 3/100ths of a percentage.
Salutatorian is a pretty big deal,
too, Sebastian, so...
- Still second place, though.
- Well, I suppose
the hinge upon which fate swings
is a capricious one.
- Why are your eyes all red?
- Excuse me, everyone.
Can I please have your attention?
Very impressive, spirit team.
Can you please put her down?
Uh, hey, listen.
We're doing a live
television interview outside,
so if you could all just, you know,
stop throwing each other up in the air
and keep the volume level down,
that'd be great.
- Okay? Thank you.
- Sorry.
And now we'll go live
to Julia Louise Hugo
- at Morgan High School. Julia?
- In five, four, three, two...
I understand that you have
a statement regarding
your student, Charlyne Phuc,
who was recently arrested...
Miss Phuc is no longer
a student of this institution,
and I have requested
that her standing
as three-time
State Spelling Bee Champion
be officially revoked.
Morgan is one of the finest
high schools in this state.
We demand excellence,
not inebriation.
And to reassure our students,
parents, faculty,
and board of regents
of this high standard,
we are conducting
a controlled-substance screening
on campus tomorrow.
All students are required
to participate,
and any student who does not
pass the screening
will be immediately expelled.
Cheese and crackers.
No, no, no, no.
I was trying for genial
and it came off wimpy.
I'd like to be stronger.
Could we try this again?
We're live.
What?
No, no, no, it's great.
Keep shooting. Looks great.
We gotta be clear
by tomorrow morning.
- What drug?
- Shrooms.
- Yeah, we split an eighth.
- How long ago did you take them?
- Hmm. About an hour ago?
- What strain?
Hold on. Hey.
You know what strain we ate?
Dinosaur bones.
- Are your parents home?
- I think.
- Have you been drinking?
- Look at your face.
Did you smoke marijuana
with these mushrooms?
It's all stroked out.
- Sorry.
- What?
So it might be that shit
we ate on prom night.
- I'm looking for Breaux.
- Gordors been pulling
- this Nazi shit forever.
- Did you call the police?
My dad's gonna cancel
the Spice Channel if I get expelled,
beat me up
with my own severed cock.
Let... yo, let me call you right back.
- What?
- You did this to me.
Do you have any idea
how screwed I am right now?
Look, chill, man.
You're causing a scene.
I'm causing a scene?
Causing a scene? What?!
What?
Look, there are other people
trippir balls
pretty hard core right now.
Dude, I'm not like other people.
Okay? I don't trip on balls.
Okay? If I'm busted, I can kiss
my MIT scholarship good-bye.
My entire life
is on the line right now.
Yeah, all right. Hey, you guys,
the pumpkins are trying to kill us.
You gotta go talk to 'em.
Come on, seriously, go.
- What's with them?
- Come on.
This is my cleansing box.
It's for emergency situations.
We've got goldenseal,
but I think they test for that now.
Tea regimen, but it takes
something like two to three days.
There's always urine masks,
but sometimes your piss
can come out a little too clean.
Like it's not even urine anymore.
It's Aquafina.
Okay, so what else
do we have, man? Is that it?
There's the piss pump.
It's classic, but if they frisk you,
they're gonna find it.
- Right.
- The bottom line is anything you use
will buy you a 40% chance
of passing.
That's an F.
That's an F, Breaux.
You know, this is what
they warn you about in that video.
It starts out fun until you start
clawing your eyes out
in a padded cell with al-Qaeda.
One hit could really ruin your life.
I mean, you could always
go around to high schools.
You know, like,
"Don't be like me. I blew it.
Threw my life down
the garbage disposal...
for weed."
Come on!
- Hey, I'm playing, man.
- This is a big deal, Breaux.
I need your... this is a big deal!
Yeah, I know, man.
# Have you ever
watched the sun go down #
# And you're thinking
'bout the world spinnir round? #
# Have you ever
been high as fuck? #
# You're in the bathroom mirror
talking to yourself #
# And your dog's lookir at you
like you need help #
# Have you ever been
high as fuck? #
Oh.
Have you been throwing
cold cuts at my window?
Yo, have you been crying?
Yo, meet me
at the tree house, gangster.
Yo, who the fuck touched my whip?
Got you!
"Sodium aluminum sul..."
There's aluminum in this?
What the fuck?
Look, uh, what if we
walked in tomorrow,
failed the drug test,
and no one even noticed?
What if you could fail and still be
valedictorian and still go to MIT?
- Jesus Christ, you're high again.
- Yeah, I'm always high...
Dude, that's a stoner fantasy, man.
How could I fail the drug test
and no one care?
- If everyone fails.
- Of course.
If we can't pass the test, fine.
Fuck it.
Let's get the whole school high.
Oh, my God.
Please tell me you're kidding.
Tomorrow is the bake sale, right?
We swap in bud brownies,
everyone gets blazed, everyone fails.
They'll have to throw
the test results away.
We won't even use a lot.
All right?
Just enough to muddy the waters.
They'll barely test positive.
Most people won't even notice.
They'll just be a little slow.
- A little slow.
- At times like this,
you need to think like a stoner.
Where are we gonna get
that much weed?
- What?
- What?
What? What?
You're right.
I harvested the crop
a few hours too early.
Ah! I'm so stupid.
Fuckir... so fuckir stupid!
Stupid!
- What?
- What?
What? What?
I'm sorry.
I hate for you to see me this way.
What?
There's this guy... Psycho Ed.
He was like a child prodigy.
Graduated from high school at 15.
Passed the bar exam
before he was old enough to drink.
But then he went
to a foam party in Baja,
smoked a dust blunt
supposedly laced with PCP,
burned something out
in his fuckir brain.
Dropped out the legit world
and became...
Let me guess... a drug dealer.
Yeah, but he's got this shit...
it's better than weed.
It's called kief,
and it's really hard to make
because you need a massive crop
of some crypto-dank herb
on a 32-part-per-million
flowering solution cycle.
Psycho Ed:
Calculated to harvest each bud
when its psychoactive component
is at its absolute apex.
Then I process the buds
to extract the excess THC,
the fruit of an entire harvest.
One misstep
and the crystals are history.
This is kief.
This will seriously
fuck you up.
Hold on, m-man.
You... you want to steal
a psycho drug dealer's
personal kief?
Precisely.
Look, the Daves scored a dime bag
from him this afternoon,
took a look at the place,
told me the whole setup,
- where the keys are.
- Man, this is insane!
- I can't do this!
- You can. It's not.
Look, I know what you're thinking.
- You know, he's got a gun...
- No.
Breaux, I was not thinking that.
Look, at times like this, we can't think
about the things that could go wrong.
We just gotta grab the balls
and go for it.
- The balls. I'm grabbing the balls.
- Exactly.
Whose balls? Stop, Breaux.
- No, I can't do this, man.
- It's easy, okay?
Just hop the back fence,
wait for my signal,
and then bing, bang,
boom, and we dip.
What kind of plan is that?
Breaux. Fuck.
"Beware of my fucking dog."
- Fuck!
- Hey.
What the fuck are you doing out here?
Come on, get in here. Come on.
- Come on! Get in here!
- Okay, okay.
- Have you been crying again?
- Fuck off.
Okay.
It's really dicey in here,
so give me exactly one minute
and then get the key from the door
and head to the back.
He keeps the kief
in a freezer in the grow room.
Wait, wait, wait.
Stop, I'm serious.
Fuck. Fuck.
Oh, my God.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
Okay. Okay.
All right.
Okay, okay.
Ain't a strip club, you fuck.
Thanks, brother man.
Everybody says your weed
is the dank shit.
Yeah, well, everyone's right.
Time for you
to get the fuck out.
Well, what about, you know,
weed etiquette?
What?
You know, now I'm supposed
to smoke you out with your own shit.
It's like weed tax.
Do I look like I need you
to get me stoned?
My God,
looks like somebody poured
snake blood in your eyeballs.
Thanks.
Maybe you could
give me some advice?
What?
I bought some seeds online...
- Oh!
- Moron!
Never buy anything online.
This botanist in Portland
knows how to make
the most of what you got.
And where to grow.
Yo, could you print this out
for me, bromeslice?
That's Paranoid.
- Yo, why do they call you Paranoid?
- What? Why you wanna know, man?
Yo, is that, like... is that like
an alarm or something?
Timer.
I'm fully automated.
Oh, shit.
Now piss off.
Shh...
- What the hell is that?
- That's the alarm.
Ah.
He's got the deep beef.
You better not be fuckir with me.
I told you not to fuck with me.
Hey, who the fuck are you, man?
- What, does ganja affect your hearing?
- What?
I've been knocking for,
like, five minutes.
I'll punch you in the head, man.
Who the fuck is this guy, bro?
- You told him your name?
- What?
- Huh?
- He's my... he's my ride, my ride.
Uh, yeah.
Yeah, I'm his ride.
Come on, man,
we gotta get the car back
before my dad gets back.
He's a renegade cop
with a power mullet.
Works the late shift,
likes to shoot things.
- Hey.
- What?
Hmm?
- Yo.
- What?
- What?
- What?
What? What?
Yo, you woke my frog, cunt.
Frogs sleep?
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
What?
Adios, muchacho.
Muchsimas gracias.
Hey, next time,
leave Chong at home.
Okay.
- What?
- What?
- What? What?
- Jesus fucking Christ.
Yo! G-G-Go!
Go, go, go, go, go.
- Who sent you?!
- Holy shit!
two two-inch brownies apiece.
We're gonna need 42 boxes
of brownie mix, 15 dozen eggs...
- Oh, shit!
- 11 bottles of canola oil, and...
- Hector, clean-up on aisle two.
- Fuck.
- Hey, these are on sale.
- So what, man?
These are the ones that taste good.
Wait, wait, wait.
This is white cake.
It's for me.
# Stained roads #
# Opposite direction #
# Hearts are feeling cold #
# Minds are dejected #
# We want the same things #
# Not just for ourselves #
# Created for me #
# A personal hell... #
# Take this #
# Take this with you #
# The two do not exist #
# In conjunction... #
Dr. Gordon,
the board members are here to see you.
This is the most important day
of your life.
# Hold on to #
# These ebbs and flows #
# Please, please, please,
don't let me... #
Move. Dump them out, man.
We gotta go, quick.
No shit.
Let's go.
Come on, we gotta move.
- Shut up.
- Quicker, quicker, quicker. Let's go.
- Okay.
- Come on.
- # Don't cut me, cut me out #
- There's a car here.
A shepherd must be held
accountable for his sheep.
That is why I welcome
the board's review
of our new zero-tolerance policy
on controlled substances.
Today, Morgan High
is conducting
its first ever student screening.
No drug tests! No drug tests!
Greetings, fellow Patriots.
This is your assistant dean,
Brandon.
Just a reminder that today
is the annual end-of-the-year
PTA bake sale
with benefits going toward
the band and track team
to get new uniforms.
So don't count calories
or carbs today.
You know I'm not.
# Necessity... #
Today is the dawning
of a new era here at Morgan.
And I, Dr. Leslie Gordon,
give you my personal assurance
that you will never, ever
hear of another student
from Morgan High
being under the influence
of any illicit drug
ever again.
Punch?
These are fuckir good.
All right, kids, we're only gonna
get a few more chances
to do this this year,
so here we go.
I really don't like doing this...
seven, six...
this is not a test...
five, four...
get to class.
But... but was it...
Chicken quesadilla?
What?
Shit.
What's the matter, man?
I could fix you another one.
Yo, Edwin, you all right, man?
Chad, please take the roll sheet
to the administration office.
- Chad!
- What?
What? What?
The roll sheet to the office.
Oh, shit.
Just go.
Dana, Jeffrey, please read
today's announcements.
Wha... what?
I got webbed hands.
L... I've never noticed that.
What?
Name?
Name!
Uh...
I have a nickname.
Finger.
Oh, and, um, Acorn Dick.
It's un... it's unfortunate.
So which one do you want first?
Hands up.
Got any sharp objects? Needles?
Porta-Potty to your left.
Here is the plastic...
I like your... your tats.
You're not on the Suicide Girls
website, are you?
Does this nurse look
totally insectoid to you?
Thought I saw you on there.
I'll text you.
What the fuck, man?
People are losing their shit right now.
According to... according to
"Stoner of the Year,"
bud brownies are the most dangerous
and terrifying inebriate.
The thing about them is you keep
getting higher and higher.
It does not stop.
How much kief did you use, man?
Uh, you know, a smidge, a shake,
a Martha Stewart steeze.
Okay, I spilled it, all right?
A shit-load.
- All right...
- Sebastian: Did you hear?
Someone locked the PTA moms
in the weight room.
Looks like Dean Gordon installed
that new surveillance system
just in time.
Oh, right, you wouldn't know.
I mean, I only know
because, of course,
you know, I tutor his son Mark
and I overheard it.
Cameras everywhere.
It's an Orwellian wet dream.
- Henry, slow down.
- We're going to jail.
- Gordon caught us on camera.
- We don't know that.
- And even if he did, we can fix this.
- Yeah? How?
I don't know, the footage...
we don't even know if they watched it.
- We'll just fuckir find it.
- Dr. Gordors son.
Let's go have a chat
with that veining dildo.
Wait, no, no, no. I can't.
I'm late for my first final.
Forget your final.
This is important.
You don't get it, man. If I screw up
my final, I'm just as fucked.
Okay, I'll find that pimply dipshit
and then I'll text you.
All right.
Thanks, man.
I'ma tell you what hurts...
having a daddy with glaucoma.
Old man couldn't see shit.
So I tried to score him, you know,
an ounce of Chocolate Thai...
Uh...
This is cra... this is crazy.
We are proud to have awarded
an academic scholarship
to one of only three living
human beings to have beaten
the Carnegie Mellon Red One
Supercomputer at chess:
Edwin Hunter.
Elo rated as the third best
chess player on the planet Earth.
It looks like Edwin
will have the first move
because he's white.
I mean... the white pieces.
White always goes first.
I mean, that is...
the person with the white...
oh, look.
This pawn looks like
my Uncle Neville's
elongated nipple.
- Rest in peace, you slut.
- Music! Ahem.
Would you all like to listen
to some music?
Dude, the white judge...
the white judge knocked me
to the joint for 25 to life
for some fuckir sinsemilla, man.
We already heard
that one, too, asshole.
Well, the world need to hear it,
and they will in my book,
"Alcatrizaz."
Shit.
That sounded like a wet fart.
Well, you'd know, incontinent slank.
What the hell is going on
around this place?
Is someone trying
to sabotage me?
- Are you trying to bring me down?
- Jesus, no. I've been paging you.
No drug tests! No drug tests!
Hmm.
Batteries must have died.
Sir, we've had
an unusual number
of students and faculty
complaining of...
confusion and... and dizziness.
I haven't been feeling
so sweet myself,
so I was thinking that maybe
it was a gas leak,
so I called in
an emergency...
work... thingy.
I want answers. Brainstorm this thing.
There he is!
What about our childrers
right to privacy?
- No unlawful search and seizure.
- Yeah, fuck you!
- Fuck you!
- Man: Who do you think you are?!
Oh, fuck, man.
Ah, shit.
- Hey.
- What?
You made me drop
my ice cream.
Why the fuck would you be eating it
like that on a day like today?
Because it tastes ambrosian
when I'm buttstonked,
but don't tell the cops that
when they arrive.
I'm on probation for a misdemeanor
possession charge.
- What?
- Shit.
You didn't think about gettir
no fuckir Slurpee, kid?
You like Slurpees, don't you?
- Who me?
- No, the...
Man:
Oh, man.
- Fuck.
- What?
- What?
- Shit.
- Fuck.
- What?
- Fuck.
- Paranoid and Charlyne: What?
- What?
- Fuck.
What?!
Get the fuck out of here.
- I'm melting!
- Martin.
How many brownies did you eat?
- 14?
- Jesus H. Christ.
Martin, look at me.
You are really stoned right now, man.
You look like you're about
to summit Mt. Zion.
We'll tell your daddy.
You could get expelled, little man.
Where do they record
the security footage?
Huh? Huh?
- Come on, man.
- Give the fuckir milk.
Tell us, Martin,
and you get the milk.
In the library,
in... in the back room.
- My daddy has the keys.
- Okay, okay, okay.
If you speak a word of this
to anyone and I'll make sure
what you're feeling right now
is permanent.
I'm the pope of dope.
I can make that happen.
Maybe I just dosed the milk
you just downed
with high-grade liquid acid.
Keep your mouth shut, homes.
Well, did you?!
Die, Leonard! Die!
I'm gonna murder you!
Perhaps you'd like some lunch?
This is great, man.
How are we supposed to get
the keys from him?
Are you joking?
I wanna see what it looks like
when someone is murdered.
Ah!
What if we could unlock
the surveillance room
without even going near
Dr. Gordon?
How, man? How?
# Watch out,
here we go again #
# Just say my name
and I will bend #
# I'll kill you with my words #
# And I'll kill you with mine... #
Gordors a psycho.
He canceled his wife's
gym membership
because he thought
she was fucking her trainer,
but gave her a spare set of keys
so she could work out here.
Must keep in shape
with all the sport fucking she does.
- Wait, what?
- She's a cougar, dipshit.
A fucking coug.
What school have you been going to?
Everybody's fucked her, man.
- I-I haven't.
- Well, everyone but you.
- You haven't.
- Everyone but us.
- The Daves?
- Shut the fuck up, all right!
It's a breeze.
I go out there, I distract her...
Wait, let me guess,
let me guess.
While... while I commit another felony,
sneak into the mers locker room,
and then bing, bang,
boom, and we dip.
- Exactly.
- Right.
You grab the keys from her purse
while we're having sex.
What?
# Just say my name
and I will bend #
# With mine. #
Mind if I turn up the heat?
Wha... what do you...
what do you think you're doing?
Having a hell of a day.
Thought I'd chill
the fuck out in the pool.
You know, get out of here.
Get out of here
before you get yourself
into some serious trouble,
young man. Okay?
I won't tell if you won't.
Look, how the hell
did you get in here?
- Hmm?
- I'm... I'm into you.
Seriously, I'm down.
I'm calling the police.
You shut your blood clat, Mommy.
What do you tink
I came in here for?
What did you just say?
Let me peep them Babylons,
you ras-clat.
All right, listen, you little bastard.
I'm gonna have you arrested so fast
that your head will spin.
- Do you understand me?
- I ain't scared of no 5-0.
- Why are you talking like that?
- What?
Oh, yeah.
- What is that?
- What?
Oh, I hear it.
How weird.
Is someone here?
Hello?
Let's stop this.
Amanda?
Hello?
"Jizz coming out
of my Johnson..."
- That's just creepy.
- I definitely hear somebody.
"Hog in your mud..."
Administration office?
- Pass the towel.
- No.
- Huh, that was weird.
- Yeah.
I can drive tonight if you want.
Fuck, yeah!
You were like the star of your own
ninja porno back there...
"Enter the Cougar."
- Watch this, biatch.
- There's the old sense of humor.
He's holding out on us, man.
I know it.
Fucking notebook?
Espaol.
What the hell is this shit?
Need to freshen up a bit.
This is gonna get ugly.
A case can be made that things
have already gotten pretty ugly, Edward.
You read my mind, man.
How you be doing
that fuckir shit?
You guys better wait here.
- Gladly.
- Fuckir weirdos.
Paranoid: Don't... don't...
don't make no eye contact.
They've got laser blades.
They can reset your brain.
Thanks for the warning.
Flies in the web.
Yeah, we got 'em. Reel 'em.
Okay, where's my piss pump?
We have to rig that shit up
before we get chi-chi faced.
Here.
This one has a black
prosthetic dick, asshole.
- What if they take a look, man?
- Maybe you just have a tan cock.
Give me your cock.
Looks Latino.
Fine, take that cock.
I'll wear your
black shriveled dick.
Wait.
Let's make sure there are
no motherfuckers in here listening.
I'm a surveillance room key.
What do I look like?
Move Neville's nipple
or suck on it already, biatch.
- Try them again.
- I did, man, all of them. Twice.
This must be the door.
So where's the fuckir key?
What's poppir off, gentlemen?
- Care for a bite, Henry?
- Uh, no, thanks.
- I'm, uh, fasting.
- Oh, well, that's a shame.
I've heard they're delicious.
Too bad chocolate reminds me
of human feces.
- Weird day, isn't it?
- It's high school.
Everyday is weird.
See you, Sebastian.
I found a dumpster full of brownies.
I ask you,
why would someone
wanna throw away
so many perfectly good brownies?
You should have a brownie.
- Pure THC kills nausea.
- Henry: Fuck off, Doctor.
- # I am the walrus! #
- Boy: Coo coo ca choo.
We should get this whole school
high more often.
- More often?
- Yeah, on a scale
between a prostate exam
and a reggae festival,
it's somewhere around giving
your mother multiple orgasms.
What kind of scale is that?
You know, you find this
really fuckir funny, don't you?
This could really tarnish
your .65 GPA.
I mean, your bright future is totally
hanging in the balance, Breaux.
Yeah, I... I do have plans,
for your information.
The Daves and I,
we wanna travel,
learn to play the sitar, and then
eventually settle somewhere else.
Maybe Nicaragua.
You know, and I... I know buying land
out there can be pretty sketchy
because the government
can pretty much jack it
whenever they want,
but fuck it, right?
Wow, man.
It's a hell of a plan, really.
Oh, shit.
- What?
- Hi.
Where is it?
It's, uh... it's gone.
It's gone, man.
What?
That's impossible.
Where is it?
There was enough kief to get
this whole fucking school high.
You sick, twisted fucks.
You did get the whole school high.
Now... now, that's just the most
mental thing I've ever seen.
But you pinched
the wrong mars load.
Okay, okay, we'll pay you back.
We'll pay it back, okay?
- You don't have enough.
- There's cameras, there's cameras.
There's cameras?!
- Oh, shit! Oh, shit!
- There's cameras?
Where's the camera?
Where's the camera?
Huh? Huh?
Where's the camera?
Where's the camera?
Is that a camera?
- No, no. No, no, no. Okay.
- Oh, shit.
You think I give a fuck
about cameras?
The bake sale...
they're raising money.
- How much?
- I don't know! I don't know!
I don't know.
We'll pay it back, we'll pay it back.
- We'll find it.
- I want it in an hour.
- Two hours.
- What the fuck?
Two hours.
Please, please.
That'll get you
till the end of the day.
And then we're gonna
have a very
serious talk.
- Huh?
- Okay, okay, okay.
Does this happen to you a lot?
What the fuck are we gonna do
about that freak Sebastian
and Dr. Gordors
surveillance footage?
Fuck that. Let's worry about
staying out of the morgue first,
then jail.
- What?
- We find the bake sale cash box
and we pay off Psycho Ed.
And we have a whole two hours.
- Right.
- "Thank you, Breaux."
Right, which gives us
till about 10 after 12.
Fuck! No, I can't.
I've got my computer skills final.
All right, I'll fuckir deal.
Go be a superstar.
There's tape on the keys.
- How am I supposed to type?
- Dana: It's a final, you 'tard.
You're not supposed
to see the keys.
I think.
Miss Unger?
Hello?
Hello. I was just drawing
a picture of my cat Bryan.
I named him after Bryan Adams.
All right, let's take a test.
Boy, he's a very sexy singer.
I used to pretend
that my glass dildo
was, in fact, Mr. Adams' erect
glass-encased member...
Because the forest wizard
had turned him to glass, of course.
So only the moistened walls
of the village witch
could return him to human form.
Was that out loud
or did I just think that?
Isn't this the administration office?
No, it isn't.
It is my classroom.
- I think.
- Are you fucking with me?
Excuse me, is that the attendance list
I gave you this morning?
You're positive Sharky
left the cash box in Gordors office?
- Yeah. Look, the money's in there.
- Cool, cool.
- So where's Sharky now?
- No, no, come on!
Horny man, I need your magical,
geek power brain to be focused for this.
No, man. Fuck that.
I got the keys out of the womers
locker room, man.
- This one's yours.
- That was simple.
I had to tame a cougar.
This is the administration office.
Yeah, you're the career criminal, man.
- This should be, like, easy for you.
- Right. You're right.
L... I'm, you know, suspicious.
And you, you're the straight-arrow,
tight-ass geek.
Oh, so maybe I should
smoke weed all day
and I wouldn't have to do
any hard work.
Yeah, well, maybe I should
get some straight As
and hang out with some flip-flop
floobie-doos who eat glue.
Yeah, there's a minimum
IQ requirement to be in the auto club.
Is there a minimum vagina
requirement to be in the IQ club?
No.
All right, we're gonna
have to clear the office.
Oh, fuck!
This is intense.
Shit.
- There you are.
- Mom?
Oh, my God.
Dude, how blazed are you two?
You tried to hold out
on us, you fuck.
Oh, shit.
- Just tell my mom I love her, man.
- You tell her yourself.
- No, man.
- Pull it together.
Little Dave, you know that stunt
you've been yammering about?
- Yeah.
- Yeah, well, now would be perfect.
Why now?
We dosed the whole school.
We need a distraction.
- That sounded weird.
- What?
What?
Oh!
May I have your attention, please?
Witness the death-defying stunt
never before attempted.
Little Dave Klein is gonna jump off
the library balcony
on his motherfuckir skateboard!
Yeah!
The balcony.
- Go for it, Dave.
- It's suicide!
- Let's check it out!
- Let's roll this shit.
Whoo!
Yeah!
Whoa! Oh!
Whoa! Yes!
That was some
"Faces of Death" shit, homes.
- I can feel skin flapping.
- What?
Seriously, I think
I've ripped my sack, man.
I should have tenured at Stanford.
Tameka?
- Tameka!
- I'm sorry. There was an incident.
Here's your coffee.
- I'm so sorry?
- Thank you.
Is there anything else, sir?
- The gas man is waiting...
- No, I'm finished.
Actually, there is
one small thing I'd like you
to take care of, Tameka.
Oh, yes.
Yes, there is.
- The cops are coming.
- What?
- They're on their way.
- The police?
- Yes!
- No, t-tell them
- that's everything's under control.
- That's not gonna work.
Oh, God damn it!
I'll be right there.
- Yeah!
- Live the moment! Live it!
Fuck.
I lost count.
Fuckir singles.
$2,403.
- That's a start.
- Wait, a start?
- You said if we got you the money...
- I said that it will buy you
till the end of the day.
This shit ain't even remotely close
to the street value.
How much?
- 50.
- Thousand?
No, cents, stupid.
US.
Let's call it 49,
since I like you guys, huh?
You're both fuckir nuts. Huh?
- I'll be waiting in the parking lot.
- So you're just leaving, then?
You don't see
what's going on here?
You don't see
what we're up against?
We could use a psychoism fiend
with a lot of green
and you're turning your back on us.
Go take care of yourself, Ed.
Guess it's what you're best at.
I'm not fucking around!
The money or you're
both marked, man.
Weed legends or not.
We're live at the prestigious
Morgan High School
where a group of angry parents
are protesting the school's decision
- to drug test...
- Who are you?
- We're with Channel 5 News.
- That thing's on?
Yes, we're live right now.
What would you like to say
to Headmaster Gordon?
- Is he watching?
- If he were watching.
What do you mean "were"?
W- Was he watching?
- Is this the past?
- Cut the feed.
Is that that same school?
The gas company dude
says that it's not a gas leak.
We're checking the cafeteria
for salmonella.
I mean, what else could it be, huh?
- Asbestos?
- Those are the wrong symptoms, okay?
This is... this is more psychological.
It's kind of like
God's eye watching itself.
Jesus!
Why is everyone acting
like a bunch of baboons?
Yeah, I don't know.
It's... it's nuts, but we're having
a choice brainstorming session
just like you asked.
No one leaves this place
until we identify this problem.
Think, people!
This thing is out of control!
We have to shut it down!
What? Hey.
Just think, you did that.
How's that for an accomplishment?
Right?
Oh, come on.
Look, it's not like he's
irreparably damaged or anything.
- Leave me alone, Breaux.
- He's gonna be fine.
I am sick of your
pathological optimism.
My life is in the shit-house
because of you.
I didn't put a gat to your dome.
You smoked that fatty.
You puffed down. You got high.
You got you into this,
you judgmental hypocrite.
And to think I did all this bullshit
to try and help you.
I never had a single thing
to lose, dumbass.
Yeah, man, you don't need to tell me
you didn't have anything to lose.
Everybody knows that.
You know why we stopped
being homies, Henry?
Come on, man.
It's when your dad left your mom.
And that puts you
in the same place as me.
And having that thought
in your skull
scared the shit
out of you, didn't it?
That suddenly your life
could be anything like mine.
- That's not true, man.
- Fuck you.
You don't believe that truth,
then fuck you.
Go ahead, give up,
because I'm not done yet.
But I am sick and tired
of your candy-ass whining
when fuckir one door
separates us from that footage.
- And you can't...
- Man, even if we could get in there...
I mean, even if we could
destroy the footage...
I mean,
what about Psycho Ed?
Man, where are we
gonna get $50,000?
Who is Psycho Ed?
Suck my wispy left nut, Sebastian.
You don't know shit.
Uh uh uh.
I know that you two
got the student body
and the faculty high
on marijuana brownies,
all because you didn't wanna risk
screwing up your finals
and losing valedictorian to me.
And I know that
five minutes from now,
Dr. Gordon will know
as much himself.
If you say a word to anybody,
there's gonna be an 18-7
up in this bitch.
You feel me?
- Ah! Okay, okay. Ow!
- What do you want, Sebastian?
- Ow. Okay, okay. Fuck!
- What should have been mine.
And once you're exposed,
- I'll have it.
- Okay. Ow! Ow!
Sebastian, I'll throw
my English final.
If I fail it, you're valedictorian.
When you're expelled,
I'm valedictorian anyway, asshole.
By default.
But if I fail, you win
by beating my GPA,
by earning it in the eyes
of everyone else.
Fine.
If you fail, Henry,
my lips are sealed.
Yes!
Do you people even realize
the significance
of the Boston Tea Party?
I mean, think about it...
it was tea.
A mere beverage.
It's like the beverage
gave the oppressed people...
leverage.
Beverage.
- Say it with me, come on. Beverage.
- Class: Beverage.
Be-ver-age, you know...
Lick it real slowly, like...
like it was the nipple,
- the teat of your own mother.
- Beverage.
Beverage.
Ooh!
A sort of lurid chill goes
up and down my spine.
Don't stop!
Please, don't stop!
Beverage. Beverage.
Beverage.
Excuse me.
Is there a Mr. Henry Burke?
You haven't visited us yet,
Mr. Burke.
Can I borrow him
for five minutes, please?
Say beverage.
Nice and slow.
- Beverage.
- What the shit?
- Beverage.
- Beverage, that's it.
Beverage. Beverage.
Thanks.
All right, turn around.
Arms up.
Any needles?
Sharp objects?
- All right.
- What's this right here?
Oh, it's your penis.
Sorry about that.
Where have I felt this before?
Campus Stadium,
best Dead concert ever.
I toasted one just before
they opened with "US Blues."
You were there, too?
You remember when we heard
that it was gonna rain?
And everybody joined hands,
young and old,
- and we sang that rain away.
- We just sang it away.
Fuck me.
Whoa.
We are all buttstonked.
Nuh-uh.
The sticky green.
The cannabis sativa.
The sinsemilla!
But how does someone
get the entire school roasted?
Oh, I... I got it, I got it.
I got it.
No, I lost it.
I lost it.
I lost it.
I had it.
You're useless.
Wait, wait. Welcome back.
- Woman: Oh, heart.
- Holy shit, that scared me.
Tameka, it's Brandon!
Quarantine the brownies
and send one away
to get tested, okay?
Okay. Oh, and bring me
a box of Cheez-lts.
All right, thanks.
Hey, Brandon,
how does a brownie take a test?
Attention.
Can you hear me?
Hello, this is Brandon.
Um, all uneaten brownies
need to be brought
to the administration offices.
Oh, no.
They have been contaminated,
so, please, don't eat them.
Please?
Don't... don't.
There is no need to panic.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Okay?
Everything is rad.
Mr. Burke, first time late,
ever.
Ah, well, it appears
you've all had a pleasant lunch.
- The salmon was boss.
- And the brownies were to die for.
So moist, so delicious.
Oh, my.
Shit.
This is a private meeting room.
You're fuckir with me.
Arert you?
I'm...
I just... I didn't
expect it to be so sad.
All those books,
all that fire, I...
- Are you done with that?
- Oh, yeah, go for it.
- Clean yourself up, Miss Tombs.
- Fuck you.
Oh, my God.
Dr. Gordon?
Brandon wanted me to tell you
that all the marijuana brownies
have been quarantined.
Um, what does she mean?
Um, there's been an incident,
but everything's
under control, I assure...
The brownies we just ate?
They were more than likely,
uh, tainted with, ahem,
marijuana.
Yes, I... I think you're right.
Do you all feel that?
It's kind of like my soul
were swimming
within my own flesh.
It's rousing.
I think I just came.
Next up... Mr. Burke.
Um, "To be or not to be"...
Shakespeare's great question
to his character Hamlet,
his great challenge
to his audience in 1600
and today,
over 400 years later.
Hamlet, huh?
What a fuckir pussy.
I mean, I didn't even read it.
I just Netflixed the DVD with
that "Mad Max" douche-bag in it,
but his uncle
iced his father, right?
Popped an 18-7 up in that motherfucker
and he's talking to ghosts and shit?
All like, "Daddy, Daddy,
what am I gonna do?
What am I gonna do?"
I mean, bitch, grow a pair
of clackers and snap out of it.
I mean, clearly this dude
needs some help.
Sad thing is
every time I think about Hamlet,
I think about myself...
too... too cautious, too deliberate,
planned perfection.
I'm reaching
for the unreachable,
something that, quite honestly,
I don't think is there.
And I get caught up in the bullshit
of trying to be perfect.
I forget about
what's right in front of me,
like the... like the other
aspects of my life.
My mom's gonna love me
whether or not I go to MIT.
And, you know,
being valedictorian
is not that big a deal, really.
I mean, it may seem
important now,
but in 10 years, you know,
that's just gonna be shit
that made me miss
the other moments,
the stuff I wanted to do
but I talked myself out of,
stuff my heart wants
but logic would trip over
like grabbing life by the balls
and going after the girl
I always thought was hot.
She's too hot for me.
So what's the point?
When you want
so hard for it to be
and it's just not to be,
there's nothing
you can do about it.
Uh, so anyway...
Hamlet's a punk-ass bitch
and Shakespeare's massively overrated.
Oh, shit.
Oh, fuck.
Yo, Henry.
I'll go out with you, dude.
Yeah.
Okay. Well, that's all
I wanted to say.
# There's a lot of lies #
# I'd like to get out of my head... #
Jesus.
You're not sayir that because
you're high as fuck right now, right?
High as fuck right now?
# Out of my head... #
- We all are.
- # Out of my head... #
# Out of my head. #
Hey, I thought we had a deal.
You know what?
You can go fuck yourself,
you warped piece of shit.
Bravo, Henry.
Salutatoriars
a pretty big deal, too.
Tameka, have Brandon pull up
the surveillance footage
from the gym this morning
and summon Travis Breaux
and Henry Burke to my office.
Oh, and put on a fresh pot of coffee.
- Ahh.
- Right away, Dr. Gordon, but...
No buts, Tameka.
Except yours
in my face, you fuckir...
It's just that Travis Breaux
is already here to see you, sir.
# I know you're livir life
in a hurry #
# So afraid to take it slow,
'cause reality is scary... #
Henry Burke,
please report
to the administration office.
Henry Burke, please report
to the administration office.
Shit!
Where the fuck
is the administration office, man?
# Ooh, oh, how the hell
did shit get so real? #
# It's hard for me to deal #
# Sometimes I just sit and think,
I thought it would be... #
I've never felt so good in my life!
It feels so good!
It feels so good
to be alive
and an assistant dean!
# I swear I never felt so alive... #
Sunshine! Oh!
- Talk to me, Goose.
- Goose?
- It's me. I've got the video up.
- Bitchir.
So I'm just gonna burn a copy
and bring it up
to Dr. Gordors office, then.
No, wait... no.
No, no, no.
Make a copy, don't burn it.
Make a copy and then bring it
to Dr. Gordors office.
Don't burn it. Idiot.
Henry Burke, please report
to the administration office
immediately.
- Aw, shit!
- Busted.
- What do we do?
- Hide the rest of the evidence.
Where did we leave it?
Tameka: "Tameka.
Oh, Tameka, I need my coffee.
Black, extra sugar."
Choke on it, motherfucker.
Just set it down.
My lord,
that's fucking good coffee.
Big day for you,
Mr. Breaux? Yes?
Yes.
Fuck!
Girls: Whoa! Hey!
Just so you know,
I have surveillance footage
being brought over here right now,
footage that caught you and all
your demonic acts in plain view...
you and our valedictorian,
Mr. Burke.
Henry has nothing to do with this.
So, you admit that you did?
Normally, discipline
is a passive exercise for me.
On rare occasion
I do relish it.
I must admit that
when you go down, and...
Believe me, you will
go down hard for this,
I will consider it
one of the highlights
of my career... nay, my life.
Oh, no, helicopters.
What? What is he doing?
What's wrong with that kid?
I'll admit I'm no gem
of a student,
and for whatever stress I've put
my teachers through over the years,
I'm genuinely sorry,
but there's something worse
than a kid who breaks the rules,
fucks around, tokes down
on a bit of hakeem marijuolajuwon
now and again.
A middle-aged pimp
who pretends to be the judge
of all that is right
and good in the world.
What happened to you?
Did you fail miserably
somewhere along the lines
as a husband?
A parent?
You think that if you purify
your Morgan High
Kingdom of Nastiness,
you somehow purify yourself?
Is that it?
Well, the answer is...
no.
What the shit?!
What are you doing?
Get... get out of the van!
- What?
- Get out of my fuckir van!
You broke the law,
you dosed the entire faculty
and student body
with hazardous amounts of THC,
and you are going
to jail, Breaux,
where you belong.
Oh, hell...
What the shit?
You get the fuck out of my van!
Whoa! Fuck!
Oh, fuck! Oh!
Oh, piss is on me!
My God, he is good.
Checkmate, Navaline.
Checkmate.
You should see
your face right now.
You look like my cat,
Dolly,
just as we pierced her abscess
sans nitrous oxide.
You prick.
Tick, tick, tick.
Are the police here,
God damn it?
They're on their way.
Time seems to be moving
very slowly.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Aw, hell, no.
- What?
- What?
- What?
- What?
Dr. Gordon:
Wha...
Tameka, have any more
of that coffee?
Oh, yeah, I should score
some of that.
You already drank
all the coffee, sir.
Damn!
- Going to a Huey Lewis concert?
- Why? Is he on tour again?
Entrez-vous.
Sorry about the delay.
Something weird happened
to the ray drive.
Luckily, though, I was able
to make a back-up
before everything crashed.
Perfect.
Go on, show it to us.
If a picture is won'th 1,000 words,
then this footage should be
won'th 1,000 pictures,
which would equal
a million... words.
Uh, Tameka,
bring the Johnson file.
- Wait, this isn't...
- Dr. Gordon on TV: Shut the door.
- Where would you like it?
- The filing cabinet, please.
- Malcolm, what's going on around here?
- I'll show you where I'd like it.
- What is... what... stop it!
- Sweetie, it's all right.
Dr. Gordon, get off!
That's my underwear, Dr. Gordon.
- What are you doing?
- Stupid elastic. God damn it.
- Get... get off of me!
- Daddy wants some chocolate!
Motherfucker,
this ain't "Monster's Ball!"
- Dr. Gordon, get off! Get off!
- Talk to me, baby!
I don't understand the... I...
- This is preposterous!
- Back up!
You want your nuts stapled together?
Is that what you want?
- No, no.
- What is wrong with you? What the fuck?
- I'm... I'm...
- Motherfucker, you ain't Billy Bob
- just 'cause you have a porn stash.
- What?
- Never do that... never do that again.
- I promise I won't, Tameka.
You don't understand.
My wife has crabs.
- Ooh.
- I can't help it. I'm...
You two, you can go now.
Wait! I've still got your piss.
I've got your pissss.
If there's so much
as an errant molecule,
you will have to spend
the rest of your lives
sans a high school diploma.
That's assuming
inculpatory facts not in evidence.
Reveal your identity, sir.
- Shit, it's a trap.
- What?
The police put a transmitter
in my teeth.
I'm Edward Esquire,
cheese-dick.
And it violates
"Katz v United States," 1964,
when the Supreme Court
set the standards
for reasonable
expectations of privacy.
Certainly, one could argue
that piss is highly private.
Furthermore,
any statements by you
regarding these
two little assholes
won't stand up
in court because
you're blind off your gourd on
really high-caliber mari-hoo-hoo, bro.
Drug test his ass, man.
Would you agree to submit
to a drug test, sir?
- L...
- For the record,
he made it very clear
he didn't have any of the brownies.
Wha... honey-pie.
Would you agree
to kiss my hairy sack?
If you wanna sue this prick
for workplace sexual harassment
or, uh, score a chronic
sack of doobies,
just, you know, page me.
Uh, Mr. Esquire?
Can I have a card?
Did he molest you, too?
- In my mind.
- That's nasty, dude.
Thanks.
Dr. Gordon, what do you have
to say to the parents outside?
My... my balls feel all tingly.
Hi, son.
- Hi.
- Fuck you.
Oh, how pleasant.
transporting back to station.
Take it easy!
Oh, I don't like that.
My colon.
Oh, my spastic colon!
Hey, you bastards!
We should, uh, you know,
kick it again sometime.
Come on, man.
- Be somebody.
- Oh.
Be somebody.
- Yeah, that's what I said.
- No, no.
- Be somebody.
- Be somebody.
- Be somebody.
- Got to... got to be somebody.
Twing, twing.
Weed done finally kicked in, man.
Yo, that's some
four-dimensional shit.
Where the fuck
is the administration office?
Are you fucking with me?
- What?
- What?
Beverage, beverage.
Beverage, beverage.
Class dismissed.
Cut.