All language subtitles for Mallrats 1995 EXTENDED ARROW 3in1 1080p Blu-ray AVC DTS-HD MA 5.1

I told him, "Donald...

"I have to attend. It's my ball."

And then he said:

"The lodge only throws their ball
once every decade.

"Why can't you ever attend my balls?"

And I said, "Jesus Christ, Donald,
that's what I've been doing for 30 years."

You're such an idiot!

Governor Dalton,
this is Jared Svenning...

the gentleman to whom
you are presenting the honorarium.

Governor, it's a pleasure
to meet you.

Might I add, you're absolutely
stunning this evening?

You can dispense
with the ass-munching.

You're getting your check.

Thank you.

The grant, that is, will go a long way
towards funding the new programming

that I'm working on for KREL.

That's the public
access station, right?

The one they run
the lottery numbers on?

Well, we, we air more than
just lottery numbers.

I mean, in fact...

we're going to broadcast a live
game show from a local mall this Saturday.

How long is this thing going to take tonight?

I've got "Melrose" at 9:00.

Well, there's dinner,
followed by the presentation.

And then we adjourn into the auditorium
for a stage presentation

by the Drama and History Clubs.

They put together an impressive
musical about Paul Revere

entitled "Light Your Own Lamps".

Is there a dance number?

Nothing better than a couple
of skimpily clad undergraduates

just hurling themselves
across the stage, I always say.

Get me another highball.

Right away, Governor.

Will you stop? Stop it! Cut it out!

Just don't eyeball everyone like that.

All you're doing is creeping
everyone out.

Sorry, Governor.

Sven, you know
these security types...

Everyone a glory hound,
I always say.

They're all just waiting to tackle
the next Sirhan Sirhan.

I mean, I ask you...

can you imagine anyone wanting
to attack me, for Christ's sake?

Freeze!

What are you doing? You looking
at naked guys in the shower again?

Didn't anyone ever tell you
not to point guns at people?

Once. I shot him.

Nice sneakers.

I went to look for you
in your room,

and Ronnie told me
I could find you up here.

What gives?

I wanted to finish that paper
on supernovas,

and John Slas said that
I could use his telescope

before he went home for break.

What do you need his for?
You got your own.

No, I got the lenses, T.S.,
but I need Slas' shaft.

You need Slas' shaft?

You insatiable slut!

"We're all in the gutter,
but some of us are looking at the stars."

Oscar Wilde.

I thought that you'd be down there trying
to secure the best seat in the house.

This might be the first and last time
you ever see your boyfriend on stage,

especially in a musical.

So I thought you'd be down there
front row, center.

I'm gonna watch you from up here.

With that thing?
You'll never see me.

Are you kidding?

Do you have any idea
how powerful this thing is?

I'll be able to see the flop sweat
form on your brow.

Yeah, but you won't be able
to hear me sing.

Bingo.

Strident.

I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson
about being demure for your man.

In fact...

that's it, I'm having sex with you
right here, right now.

- What are you doing?
- Let's go, come on. Pull them down.

- Would you get off me? I've got work to do.
- I don't mind.

I'll just let you finish
your star-gazing.

I'll take you from behind here.

It'll be great practice for when we get
older, and you watch TV while we screw.

Will you get off me?

Alright.

For now.

But when we get to Florida in...
approximately 17 hours, you owe me.

About that...

Yes?

Well, I can't go.

Excuse me?

My dad's asked me to help him
with his new show.

What, like his assistant or...

As a contestant.

You mean that
Dating Game rip-off thing?

That is what you're talking
about here, right?

Geez!

That guy knows no shame.

What, so he forbid you to go
to Florida when you said no, is that it?

I can't believe...

Brandi?

You didn't say no?

T.S., it's no big deal.
I mean, it's just TV.

Besides, it is really important
for my father's career.

Otherwise, he would never
have asked me.

Brandi, the guy hates me,
for Christ's sake.

Don't you think that might be
a little part of the motive here?

He'd love to see us break up.

He'd love for us not to go
on that vacation, that's for sure.

What did you think,
for Christ's sake?

Jesus! You know, for a science major,
you can be really fucking stupid sometimes.

I was giving you the benefit
of the doubt, T.S.

I thought that you might be able
to handle this like an adult,

and show my father how wrong he is
about our relationship.

Well, I guess I credited you
with too much.

You are just as thoughtless
and possessive as he is.

You both see me as property.

In fact, the two of you have
so much in common,

you should just go date each other!

Brandi, wait!

- Just leave me alone.
- Please.

No. The gun's caught in your hair.

- Would you get it out?
- I'm trying.

Mr. Svenning...

Jesus Christ! Don't kill me!

No! Shh. For God's sake!

He's with me.

He's one of my people. It's okay.

We'll be ready in five,
Mr. Svenning.

Go, it's okay.

No, your hair's caught around
the trigger here. Stop moving.

Would you just get it off? It hurts.

The presentation will begin
in about five minutes, Governor.

MmMmm-

Why not freshen up a bit?

What the hell
is that supposed to mean?

That I look like a piece of shit
or something?

Maybe we can jar it loose.
Here, come over here to the right.

Here, lean over here.
Come over here, okay? Alright? Ready?

Sniper!

Shit!

- How many are there?
- I spotted two, a male and a female.

- What kind of artillery?
- Perps were using a shotgun.

- Was the Governor hit?
- Of course I'm hit, you asshole.

You hit me like some goddamn wrestler.

There's no blood.
She wasn't attacked.

- Get your foot off my tit!
- Sorry, ma'am.

Mr. Svenning, I quit!

Hey, I think they're trying to signal us.

It's okay, we're not armed.

This is just a prop.
I'm in the musical.

It's just a blank.
It wasn't serious.

- What did he say?
- I think he said they were Syrians.

Sweet Christ, terrorists on our campus?

Why is he dressed like
a Revolutionary War Minuteman?

For irony! Your average terrorist's
a showman first, killer second.

My God! It's a member
of the History Club.

I blame the parents.
It's the parents at blame.

They are not raising their children
properly these days.

Is Jared Svenning
down there?

Hey... that's you, isn't it?

No. Well, yes, but, I mean,
how would a terrorist know me?

Daddy? It's me, Brandi.

That explains it.

Governor, please.
I want to apologize for this fiasco.

My daughter is a huge fan
of your work.

Svenning.

Your check.

I don't know what to say,
but thank you.

You want money
for your pissant station.

Just try playing the lottery.

No!

You know where they air
those results.

Get me to the goddamned hospital.

Now! Goddamn,
I fractured my collarbone.

Mr. Svenning, look, I want to apologize.

Thank you for squaring everything
with the police.

I know we probably worried you,
but Brandi and I are both okay...

If it wouldn't mean implicating
my daughter in this somehow,

I would insist that the authorities
lock you up

for the rest of your young life,
you goddamned little menace!

- Sir, it was an accident, I swear!
- No, you're the accident, you moron!

You have no idea what you just
cost me here today.

I mean, you're like
all the other spoiled jerks

I've ever known in my whole life!

Everything is handed to you
on a silver platter.

You people, you just don't grasp
the precept

of somebody who has to work
for their breaks.

- That's "concept".
- What?

You said "precept",
I think you meant to say... "concept".

Listen to me, you little prick, you.

You may have my daughter snowed,
but it'll be a cold day in hell

before you pull the wool
over my eyes.

What you just did to me
here tonight,

I'm going to make it
my mission in life

to do to you on a regular basis.

Nobody fucks with
Jared Svenning's career

and walks away clean!

I promise you that.

Hey man, I just want to tell you that
I really dug what you did up there.

Anarchy rules, dude!

- We're over, T.S.
- Come on!

I thought we weren't going through
this break-up, make-up shit anymore.

No, we're not. So you can
just forget about making up.

- Listen to you. Why don't you just admit it?
- Admit what?

That this isn't about just
what happened on the roof.

You're using that as an excuse
'cause you don't have the guts

- to stand up to your father.
- Maybe I don't.

Come on, Brandi.
What about Florida?

You have just humiliated me
in front of the entire school,

the community, the nation,
for God's sakes.

You seriously damaged
my father's career,

you insult me with that
good-cop bad-cop routine,

and now you have the gall to ask me
if I still want to go on vacation!

I was going to propose to you
in Florida.

I thought that you'd screwed up
in every way possible tonight, T.S.

Guess I underestimated you.

Shit!

Sweet fucking Christ,
would you knock it off?

- God!
- What?

- What time is it?
- 9:30.

Man, go back to sleep!

Thank Christ.

- What the hell are you doing?
- Finishing my game.

No. You promised me breakfast.

Breakfast!

Breakfast, shmeckfast.
Look at the score, for God's sake.

I'm only in the middle of the second
and I'm winning 12 to 2.

Breakfasts come and go, Rene.

Now Hartford, the Whale?

They only beat Vancouver
once, maybe twice, in a lifetime.

You hit the bathroom already?

Don't worry. I didn't let
your mother see me.

- Who's worried?
- Are you kidding me?

I've never met a person who lives
in as much fear of his mother as you do.

I do not.

So that's why I have to sneak in here
after everyone's asleep at night,

and sneak out undetected
in the morning?

You want I should tell my mother
what we do in here at night?

That you play video games
and I fall asleep unfulfilled?

Go ahead. It beats
the sneaking-around shit.

What can I say?
She doesn't like you.

You've never even introduced me
to her, Brodie.

She wouldn't like you.

You're retarded.
Everybody's mother likes me.

Not mine.

Jesus Christ! Are you back
in the bathroom again?

Then what do you do in there all the time?

Figure it out.

No, I mean like before, like
every morning before you leave,

you're in there for like a half an hour
and all I ever hear is water running.

And?

You're not in there touching yourself,
are you?

I was wrong about you.
You're crass and retarded.

What do you do in there?

You really want to know?

I asked, didn't I? I'm playing the role
of the concerned guy.

I cry.

- You cry?
- 1 cry.

Any particular reason?

Hey!

I think about the people that make
decisions that affect our lives.

The doctors who make advancements
in curing diseases.

The engineer that designs
skyscrapers.

The guy that maps out
a plane's flight path.

The navigator.

I think about how those people
are out there every day,

making a difference,
leading big lives,

and how they refuse to be intimidated

by the tremendous odds
of failure they face.

And how they only
concern themselves

with peers and company that apply
to their goals and noble causes.

Jesus! I'd hate to tell you what
I think about when I'm in the bathroom.

I think about all that and I cry...

...because I have nothing better
to do than fuck you.

You're dumping me?

What are you, crazy?

Is this because I didn't introduce you
to my mother?

Holy shit! If it isn't mon frére.

Last time I saw you,

you were on CNN
taking shots at public officials.

Mr. Quint. Mr. Quint!

Move!

So you're looking for sanctuary.

It's been like this all morning.

Can you blame them after
the spectacle you made of yourself?

What were you trying to do, anyway?
Impress Jodie Foster?

I wasn't gunning
for the Governor, Brodie.

It was a stupid misunderstanding.

Now you're crying patsy,

thus demonstrating
all the key characteristics

of a lone-nut assassin.

Usual vault rules apply:
touch not, lest ye be touched.

You're such an anal-retentive bastard.

Hey, I tried to teach you how to handle
comics in the sixth grade, but, no...

you wanted to play
Little League instead.

What's that?

Like it? I framed it
before you got here.

My God! Rene dumped you!

Hell hath no fury
like a woman scorned for Sega.

- What's that mean?
- You had to be there. Just keep reading.

Wow! Look at this laundry list
of complaints.

"You have no direction,
no college ambition, no job prospects.”

Yeah. It also says I have no dick.

But you'll notice that follows
the financial question, proving once more,

what women really look for.

What do you do for money, anyway?

Blood bank, sperm bank,
currently considering the eye bank.

Wow, she calls you callow in here.

You say that like it's bad.

- It means frightened and weak-willed.
- Really?

Shit. That was the only part of the letter
I thought was complimentary.

Yeah, well, you're lucky.

Unlike you, I didn't even get a letter
filled with obscure adjectives.

What are you telling me here?

I, too, now am
in the framing business.

Holy shit! Brandi dumped you.

Wait a second, aren't you two
supposed to go to Florida?

Should've left this morning.
It gets worse.

- I was gonna propose to her.
- Where?

- On the Universal tour.
- You're kidding! What part?

When Jaws pops out of the water.

That's the most romantic thing
I've ever heard.

Too bad I'm not trying to marry you.

Let me ask you something.
Did you ever fart in front of her?

Why do you ask?

I never farted in front of Rene,
not once, alright?

Then last week, I let one slip.
Today she dumps me.

You think that that's why
Rene dumped you?

She's not the shallow type, Brodie.

She was going down on me
at the time.

- Shut up!
- What can I say? I was feeling very relaxed.

When I'm relaxed, I squirt.

If all she did was dump you,
you got off light.

I can't believe this shit.

Why are we sitting here
trying to figure out

where we went wrong
with our significant others?

We just nailed it, in your case.

No, there is something out there that can
help ease our simultaneous double loss.

Ritual suicide?

No, you idiot. The fucking mall!

I prefer ritual suicide.

Come on, man! It'll be great.

They got these new cookies
at the cookie stand.

You have to try them,
they're awesome.

You think the promise of a cookie
is gonna lure me

into doing something
I have zero interest in?

What am I, 5 years old?

Quint, don't be such a pussy, alright?
Just go.

Alright, I'll tell you what.

We can stop off at Brandi's
if that'll make you feel better.

You can talk to her,
maybe patch this thing up.

Mr. Quint, I'm Fred Bishop with NBC.

The network would like to buy the rights
to your story to make a tasteful telepic.

Mr. Quint, Tom Drucker, CBS.

We'll pay more money and we'll get
Drew Barrymore to play your girlfriend.

Hey, back off.

- We can stop at Brandi's, right?
- Yeah.

Get dressed.

Jazzercise? Why does your mother
have an aerobics tape in her car?

Did we lose them?

Not a news van in sight.

Damn, anyone ever tell you
you drive like the Bandit?

Shit! So much for seeing Brandi.

Just ignore them and go in.

You kidding? That's Hard Edition.
That's tabloid TV.

They see me here and
it's "Suburban Bonnie and Clyde reunite

"to slay father in his own home."

Man, I don't know
what you're crying about.

I'd cut one of my nuts in half
to be on TV.

That'd get you on this show.

Alright, tell you what.
You go round the back,

I'll run interference
with the Fourth Estate.

- You got my back?
- Your back is got.

Alright.

So what's this all about?

I'm Tori Metzger from Hard Edition.

We're hoping to get an interview
with Brandi Svenning.

Yeah, that's the girl who took
a shot at the Governor.

The same. Do you know her?

I should say so.
I've lived next door to her for 19 years.

Even dated her once.

- Shit, the stories I could tell you!
- Really?

- Satanic rituals?
- All the time.

I remember coming over
for Christmas one year

and they were celebrating
a Black Mass.

Her father had sex with a goat
right there in the den.

And nobody ever reported this
to the authorities?

Everyone around here
is paralyzed by fear.

Makes for shitty block parties.

Could we possibly go
onto your property

and get you on tape
with their backyard behind you?

You want to put me on TV?

Shit, I'll take you to their property

if you're gonna put me on TV.
Come on!

I was thinking of calling you.

Has your dad calmed down any?

Well, until this morning.

He read an article today comparing him
to the father of James Earl Ray.

Can't you explain it to him?
You know it was an accident.

I know it wasn't planned.

But "accident" is too light a term
to describe what happened, T.S.

Whatever.
Can't we just forget about it?

Look, we already missed Florida.

We could be spending this time
alone together.

Away from our friends,
school, studies, everything.

Don't you want to spend some time
alone with me?

Just to talk.

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

Or perhaps more than talk.

Absolutely. I'm always one
for active non-talking.

Why don't you go get a pizza
with me tonight?

I've got the game show tonight.

This is Svenning's bedroom.

Now, I must warn you.

The images that you capture,
whatever is going on in that room,

may be ungodly and horrific.

Take a look.

I can't believe that you're still
going through with this.

Come on, T.S,, it's no big deal.

I mean, it's not like
I'm going to sleep with them.

You might as well! I thought
you had more backbone than this.

Why do you have to do everything
that he tells you to do?

There you go again.

Just as you're making headway,
you louse it up with this...

possessive machismo which brings
everything endearing about you

to a screaming halt, T.S.

What are you doing out here?
Who are you people?

What are you doing on my property,
Get out of here!

How do you answer
to your neighbor's charges

that you practice satanic rituals?

Satanic what?

Daddy, what are you doing
outside in a towel?

You did this, didn't you?

You trashed my fiscal year,

and now, you and your crony here
egg these media vultures

into taking naked pic...
Aargh!

Daddy, T.S. had nothing
to do with...

Mr. Svenning, look. Whatever happened,
I assure you, I didn't...

You get your ass
off my property now! Go!

And you people, you get the hell
out of here before I call the cops!

- Me, too?
- Now!

I don't know what he's so mad about.

They'll digitally erase his organ
when they air the footage.

Goddamn it!
What is my problem?

I was this close to reconciliation
and I blew up at her.

And here I'm going to the fucking mall,
of all places.

You know what, as a matter of fact,
I'm not. I'm going home.

Look, the safest place for you
to be right now is at the mall.

No press'll think to look for you here.
Hide in plain sight.

Just shut up!

You know what, this is all your fault
this happened anyway.

You and your 15 minutes of fame.

Get a grip, for God's sake.

Did you ever stop to think

that maybe the relationship wasn't
on firm ground to begin with?

Hey!

You know, it couldn't have been
that strong if she breaks up with you

over something stupid
like getting her shot at, numbskull.

Hey.

I love the smell of commerce
in the morning!

- You're really making that last.
- Waste not, want not.

- What, you wanna say something?
- Yeah, about a million things!

But I can't express myself monosyllabically
enough for you to understand them all.

- Asshole.
- Prick!

- Fuck you!
- What the hell was that all about?

That's the jerk from Fashionable Male,

this upscale wannabe shop
on the 2nd floor.

He's the manager. The guy's always
giving me shit. I've no idea why.

I thought everybody loved you
at this mall.

"FF" him!
Where do you want to go first?

Back to Brandi's.

Look, Brandi is the past, my friend.

She's behind you now.

You face forward, or you face
the possibility of shock and damage.

You should learn
to heed your own advice.

Where the hell did that come from?
What's going on here?

It looks like a stage
is being erected.

What is this monstrosity?

Maybe it's for
the Easter Bunny pictures.

Impossible! The Easter Bunny Court
is down at the other end of the mall.

It's been up since two days
after Christmas. I want answers.

Ask one of the workers.

No, no, no, there's a soul
who might know what's up.

Willam.

- Willam!
- Poopie trim.

Brodie, man, what's going on?

- What, do you work here now?
- No, man. Just hanging with T.S.

T.S., I saw you on TV.
I think it was on "Baywatch".

CNN, Willam.

Yeah, didn't you kill the Pope
or something?

I got a musket tangled
in my girlfriend's hair, for Christ's sake.

- What are you doing, Willam?
- Looking for the hidden picture.

If you stare at these things long enough,
you're supposed to see

some kind of hidden
three-dimensional picture.

Yeah, look. It's a sailboat.

- You saw it, too? Dammit!
- What?

I've been staring at this thing
for a week now from opening till closing,

and I can't see a goddamned thing!

You gotta relax your eyes.

Everyone sees this thing except me.

But today's my day.
I brought a lunch and a soda,

and I'm not gonna leave until I see
this sailboat everyone keeps talking about.

So, Willam...

Would you happen to know
what this stage business is all about?

It's not a stage!

I'm gonna see it
if I have to go blind trying.

No man, this stage over here.

That thing? They're having some
game show in the mall today.

I think it's going to be on TV.
It's called Truth or Date or something.

My God!
That's Brandi's father's game show.

- What is it?
- It's this cheesy Dating Game rip-off thing.

Supposed to be for college kids.

Just trying to capture the '90s youth
market with a staple of '70s television.

Why can't they bring back or remake
good shows like "BJ and the Bear"?

Now there's a concept I can't get
enough of: a man and his monkey.

Would you guys shut up?

- You're breaking my concentration.
- Sorry, Willam.

Now I have to start all over again.

- Good luck with that thing.
- Remember, relax your eyes.

Wow, a sailboat!

Shut up!

Could this week get any worse?

Now she's going to be auctioned off
on live TV from a mall.

Not "a" mall, alright?
"The" mall. Show some respect.

It doesn't have to go down like that,
if we trash the thing.

There's a unique way of getting back
in her good graces,

by ruining her father's show.

- You're a clever one.
- I can get someone to do it for us.

We'll be blame-free and
Brandi won't be able to do the show.

Who is this imaginary hatchet man?

Hatchet men.

Knock it off!

Kitty, kitty, Kitty!

Look at these two. Ten bucks says
they're trying to figure out

which one they're gonna bury
up to its neck

and run over with a lawn mower.

- Kitty, Kitty, Kitty!
- Hey, Jay!

Brodie, man! Nootchie-nootchies!

And, holy shit, what do we have here?
Mr. America's Most Wanted himself.

I had a musket tangled
in my girlfriend's hair.

- Ex-girlfriend.
- What's he doing?

Shithead here watched
"Empire" and "Jedi" last week,

and ever since, he's been trying
to do the Jedi mind trick.

Crazy fuck thinks he'll levitate shit
with his thoughts.

Knock it off!

- The Force is strong with this one.
- Dude, don't encourage him.

So I was telling T.S. here
we gotta find Jay and Silent Bob.

If there's anyone
that can help us out,

it's the two guys
that have even less to do than us.

What is this shit?
Everyone's looking for us today.

We're ducking Tricia 'cause she wants
to talk to Obi-Wan about her video set-up.

- Why him?
- Silent Bob's an electrical genius.

He won the science fair in eighth grade
by turning his mom's vibrator

into a CD player,
using chicken wire and shit.

Motherfucker's like MacGyver.
No, motherfucker's better than MacGyver!

Knock it off!

And it's that kind of smarts we need,
right, mopey?

Leave me out of this.

We need you to embark
on a little sabotage mission

on behalf of T.S.'s love life.

Stage dive!

You know about this game show thing
they got going on here?

We need you guys to somehow
ensure that it doesn't happen.

Is that it?
We were gonna do that anyway.

- Really? Why?
- What else are we gonna do?

Silent Bob just stole the schematic
of the stage from some foolish carpenter

and found a weakness,
just like the fucking Death Star.

He figures if you pull
this crossbeam out,

fucking bickety-bam,
the whole stage comes crashing down.

We were thinking
about something simple,

but if you want to destroy the stage,
hey, we're all for that.

- Only problem is LaFours.
- Who's LaFours?

You don't know who LaFours is?
They don't know who LaFours is!

He's only the most feared
security guard in the business, man.

460 collars, all convicted.
I hear he's even got two Kills.

Holy shit! I never thought
I'd see the day

when two such highly reputable
mischief-makers as yourselves

douse their drawers at the sight
of a mall security guard.

Shit, bitch! We're gonna bust out
that stage like a high-school kegger.

We're just gonna outwit LaFours
X-Men style.

Should I call you Logan, Weapon X?

No, Wolverine! Snickety, snickety, snoine.

What he's doing is imitating Wolverine's
berserker attack with his Adamantium claws.

I never would've guessed.

Alright, guys. You have your mission.
Go forth and wreak havoc.

Bye, baby kitties.

Damn, Silent Bob, show some heart.

Psst, psst...

That's better. We're on the job.

Thanks.

I have to admit, I'm shocked
you didn't try to dissuade them.

I would if I actually thought for a second
they could pull it off.

Ye of little faith,
want a cookie?

What's he doing?

If you stare at this poster for a few
seconds, a hidden picture appears.

Can we do it? Please?

Alright, go ahead,
but hurry, the Easter Bunny's waiting.

Wow, it's a schooner!

You dumb bastard!
It's not a schooner, it's a sailboat.

A schooner is a sailboat,
stupid head.

You know what?

There is no Easter Bunny!

Over there is just a guy in a suit!

- But they're engaged.
- It doesn't matter, it can't happen.

Why not? It's bound to come up.

It's impossible. Lois could never
have Superman's baby.

Do you think her fallopian tubes
can handle his sperm?

I guarantee he blows a load like
a shotgun, right through her back.

What about her womb? Do you think
it's strong enough to carry his child?

- Sure. Why not?
- He's an alien, for Christ's sake!

His Kryptonian biological makeup
is enhanced by Earth's yellow sun.

If Lois gets a tan, the kid could kick
right through her stomach.

Only someone like Wonder Woman has
a strong enough uterus to carry his kid.

The only way he could bang regular chicks
is with a Kryptonite condom.

But that would kill him.

How did I go from the verge
of hot Floridian sex with Brandi

to Man of Steel coital debates
with you in the food court?

Cookie stand is not part
of the food court.

Of course it is.

The food court is downstairs,
the cookie stand is upstairs.

It's not like we're talking
quantum physics here.

The cookie stand counts as an eatery,
the eatery's a part of the food court.

Bullshit. Eateries that operate
within the designated square downstairs

qualify as food court.

Anything outside of said
designated square

is considered an autonomous unit
for mid-mall snacking.

Now if you're gonna wax intellectual
about the subject...

Holy shit!

- Wait here.
- Where are you going?

Cherchez la femme.

He said it was just a guy in a suit.

Don't listen to that man,
he just said it to be mean.

That would look terrible on you.

Didn't I dump your ass this morning?

Look, I know you've had some time
to think about the mistake you've made,

and I just want to let you know
you don't have to apologize.

I'm sure you were just PMSing
or something.

Brodie, what kills me about you
is your inability to function

on the same plane of existence
as the rest of us.

Piss off.

Okay. I see you want to continue
with this charade of ending our union.

Fine, I'll play along.

But if we're divorced, we're gonna have
to divide our mutual possessions.

What the hell are you talking about?

You have my Punisher War Journal #6,

my copy of Fletch
and the remote control to my TV.

I know it's gonna be hard to give
this stuff up,

- because of its sentimental attachment.
- Sentimental attachment?

If I have any of that crap,

it's because you brought it
over to my house and left it there.

Okay, then let's talk about coming up
with a schedule for visitation rights.

- For what?
- For the mall.

I figure you can have the odd days,
I'll take the even days and weekends.

When there's any special function,
like a sidewalk sale, boat show...

Brodie!

I have always taken you
with a grain of salt.

On your birthday, when you asked me
to do a striptease

to the theme from Mighty Mouse,
I said okay.

When we were at that hotel,
prom night,

and you asked me to sleep
underneath the bed

in case your mother burst in,
I did it.

And even when we were
at my grandmother's funeral,

and you told most of my relatives

that you could see her nipples
through her burial dress, I let it slide.

If you think that I'm gonna suffer
any more of your shit with a smile

now that we're broken up, you're in
for some serious fucking disappointment.

It wasn't Mighty Mouse.
It was Josie and the Pussycats.

What?

Sorry.

Phase one:

First, you take a run at LaFours
with a sock full of quarters.

I'd do it, but I pulled my back out
humping your mom last night. Nooch.

You clock him on his headpiece
and knock his ass out cold.

That's when phase two kicks in.

I attack the structure Wolvie-berserk style
and knock out the fucking pin,

and bickety-bam, the motherfucker's
rubble, hence, no game show.

Fuck!

Do you know that kid
or something?

I hope his pants get caught
and a bloodbath ensues.

What is with you today?

Don't get me wrong,
I don't wish the kid harm,

but his mother should suffer
that horrific ordeal

so she'll learn how to manage her child!

Sort of a harsh lesson, don't you think?

There's not a year goes by that I don't
read about an escalator accident

involving some bastard kid that
could've been easily avoided

had some parent,
I don't care which one,

but some parent, conditioned him
to fear and respect that escalator!

Wow! Look who it is.

Jerk!

Little Tricia Jones!

What's a pretty girl like you
doing sitting alone

in the middle of this monument
to consumerism?

Updating my calendar
and waiting for Jay and Silent Bob.

And I suppose you're here
with no agenda, as per usual.

On the contrary,
I'm here for comics.

T.S. Quint, Tricia Jones.
They call her Trish the Dish.

Nobody calls me that.

Our little Tricia here is only 15,
but, somehow she's a senior.

How'd you manage that?

- Don't listen to him. I studied my ass off.
- Yeah, right.

So what do you say?
You wanna nail T.S. or what?

- Jesus, Brodie!
- Calm down.

Tricia's compiling data
for this book she's writing

about the sex drive
of men ages 14 to 30.

If I remember correctly,
it's titled "Bore-gasm:

"A Study of the '90s
Male's Sexual Prowess".

Ready to get sick?
Tell him about the advance you got.

Pendant Publishing gave me $20,000
based on a treatment and a sample chapter.

- You're kidding.
- It's true.

She'll be the youngest author
to tackle the subject.

So when are they gonna publish
this filthy little tome of yours?

After my 18th birthday, to avoid
the moral and legal entanglements.

So Tricia sleeps with
a bunch of guys as research.

If that's not enough, get this...

- She videotapes all of them.
- What?

I get everybody's consent
before we do it.

Most guys get off on it.

Men are easily amused.

What are you writing
in the calendar?

I was coding last night's research.

- She means sex.
- I know what she meant.

- What kind of codes?
- Here, look.

The smiley face is
for when I go down on the guy.

The smiley face with lashes
is for when the guy goes down on me.

The circle is for when we have sex.

The circle with the "X" in it
is for when I have an orgasm.

The little house is when we do it inside,
and the grass is for outside.

That kid is back
on the escalator again!

Wow, that's a pretty
elaborate log you got there.

Wow, look at all those smiley faces
without eyelashes.

That shows you
how courteous men are.

Out of 50 entries, only two have
smiley faces with lashes.

You slept with 50 guys?

To fill out my research, yes.

That's more guys
than you've slept with, dude.

My God. That kid is sitting
on the escalator again!

How old was last night's subject,
if you don't mind me asking?

Twenty-five.

It was the guy who runs
that store Fashionable Male.

Holy shit! You slept
with that asshole? Why?

I needed a 25-year-old.

And he has quite a distaste for you,
I might add.

Ew, he mentioned me during sex?

Afterwards.

He says he wants to kick your ass.

I'd steer clear of him, if I were you.

- Tell me you videotaped him saying that.
- No.

I shut the camera off after the sex.

You should've heard the stuff
he wanted to do.

I'm having a hard time with this.
Do your parents know about this?

- Of course.
- That's remarkable.

That's criminal. That kid...

That kid is back
on the escalator again!

- Leave it alone.
- What?

So, I heard you were going to propose
to Brandi Svenning in some theme park.

When are men going to learn
that women want romance,

not Mr. Toad's Wild Ride?

Be fair, alright?

Everyone wants
Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. We gotta go.

And remember my offer.

I'm young, virile,
sensitive to a woman's needs...

Somehow I doubt it, Sega-boy.

Good luck with
the comic-book store.

"Sega-boy."
God, Rene's got a big mouth!

What does that mean,
"Good luck with the comic-book store"?

How does that junior Masters
and Johnson know about my proposal?

It's not like she's in an exclusive club
or anything.

What are you talking about?

Sean Hartle's giving everyone
the inside scoop.

What? What's he saying?

How her father made her do the game show
so you couldn't take her to Florida.

Now, what the hell is this shit?

One hour? For what?

What the hell is this?
What's going on here?

What, you live in a fucking cave?
The man is in there.

How'd Sean find this out?

He was interning at KREL
and he said he heard Svenning

barking at Brandi
over the phone about it.

Apparently he had a feeling
you were gonna pop the question.

Who the fuck is "the man"?

You waited till now to tell me this?

If you're gonna bother me about this
for the rest of the day,

- I'll go home!
- You dragged me here!

You needed this.
Who the fuck is in there?

One side, Red.

What the hell's going on here?

I was warned about you.

- Take it easy before I have you removed.
- Warned?

What the fuck are you talking about?

- Tell him, Steve Dave.
- Fuck you, fan-boy!

Would you testosterone-seething,
He-Man comic book fans

finish up with this tough-guy
back-and-forth?

- I got some questions I need answered.
- Who's in there?

- You got to ask me nicely.
- Fuck this!

Jesus Christ!

- Get the hell off of him.
- Come on!

You fuckers think just 'cause a guy
reads comics he can't start some shit?

I'll fucking take all of you on!

Get a medic! There's a little boy
caught in the escalator!

Come back here
and arrest this goon!

- You're fucking next, man.
- Jesus, Brodie!

I'm not going anywhere until I find out
why I can't get my comics.

Alright.

- Excuse me.
- Don't hit me.

Why is there a line?

Stan Lee's signing comics.

Stan Lee?

Okay, Lunchbox,
let's try this again.

We tie you to the roof, you jump
and sail like a Spitfire,

passing right over
the arch-nemesis LaFours.

You then swing up to the stage
and knock out the pin.

And when that's gone, the stage
is trashed and we go smoke a bowl.

You got it?
Now, get your fat ass out there!

And, dude, don't forget your helmet.
Snoogins.

Fly, fat-ass, fly!

What the fuck?

You fucker!

Security?

This is Popular Girl. We just had
something crash through the wall.

Stan Lee! How does something
as big as the creator

of the most important titles in comics
history coming to my mall get by me?

I must be slipping in my old age.

The name amongst names.

God, there's a million questions
I'd love to ask him.

Her father!

I knew this game show thing was just
a beard for an attempt to break us up.

Why can't he just leave us alone and
let us follow through with our plans?

What kind of man are you, anyway?

I'm talking comics and
you bring up chicks and romance?

While we're on the subject, why the hell
do you want to get married now anyway?

- You're still in college.
- I was just gonna propose.

The wedding wouldn't be
till after we graduate.

Waste of time, if you ask me.

My grandmother always said, "Why buy
the cow, when you get the sex for free?"

- She did?
- All the time.

Of course, she became a lesbian
on her 60th birthday,

but that's beside the point.

Where the hell are these two going
in such a hurry?

- Is he gone?
- Halfway to Buy Me Toys by now.

Damn, that bastard"s faster
than Walt Flanagan's dog.

- What's with all the running?
- What the hell happened to him?

The human brown-eye here
is a walking calamity.

We'll have to take a pass
on the stage-trashing business,

otherwise he's liable to kill himself.

- Sorry, bro.
- No hard feelings.

Isn't that Rene?

She's probably looking for me.
I better go talk to her.

Keep that.

- I don't know, she's with somebody.
- With? She's practically blowing him.

Wait a minute, isn't that...?

The asshole from
Fashionable Male! Son of a bitch!

My God!
You think that they're...

Could be. It'll explain why
he hates me so much.

And there's only one way to find out.

Can you run interference
with the lug?

- What are you gonna do?
- Get some answers.

Shit!

You work at the Fashionable Male,
don't you?

Yeah. So?

That's a great store you got there.

Thanks. Listen...

I'm trying to spend my lunch hour
with my lady friend here.

So why don't you beat it?

That's your girlfriend?
Right there?

If you don't stop gawking at me

and get the hell out of here,
I'll kick your ass, OK?

Haven't you ever heard the phrase,
"The customer's always right"?

Let me tell you a little secret:

the customer's always an asshole!

- Jesus Christ!
- What the hell gives with the cover boy?

None of your damn business.
He'd kick your ass if he knew about this.

Are you insane?
The guy looks like a date rapist!

- Is that my jacket?
- Start the elevator.

Not until you tell me
what the situation is

with you and the Sperminator out there.

How long has this been going on?

Since I finally mustered the good sense
to send you packing.

He's a much more suitable companion
than you, any day.

Are you nuts?

The guy's pure testosterone!
He's a walking hard-on, looking for a hole!

I need testosterone after babysitting you
and your comic book collection.

I forgot what real men were like.

I can't believe you have the nerve
to come to my mall and pick up guys!

No, Shannon did the picking up.

He's already taken me to lunch
at the Cheese Haus,

purchased tickets for the opera night
and took me to stores I like!

I took you shopping all the time!

You took me where you went shopping,
jerk!

Do you think I care what rat-hole store
in that shit-pit you call the dirt mall

has got the latest Godzilla bootlegs?

You call eating pizza in the same
dive pizzeria every night eating out?

Do I give a shit when two major comic
labels are crossing over characters

and selling two editions of the book
in varied-ink chromium covers?

I'm a girl, damn it!

I want to do girly things like fix someone's
hair and get romantic phone calls.

I call you all the time!

"Rene, my mom's asleep. Come over."
You call that romantic?

When was the last time you pulled out
my chair or told me I was beautiful?

This guy does all this
in the span of a day!

This guy already introduced me
to his mother.

Really?

He was up and at work
by 9:00 this morning.

Unlike my ex-boyfriend,
who would sleep until 1:00,

'cause he played Sega
and watched videos all night long!

Which, by the way,
has enormous effect on your libido.

- Now you attack my libido?
- There's no libido to attack.

No libido to attack?

You're sure you saw her get on, right?

Maybe she was getting off.

- Sorry.
- It's alright.

You know something?
You look familiar to me.

Couldn't be.
I'm never at the mall much.

No, it's not from the mall.

I know. You're the guy from the news
that kidnapped the President's daughter

and threw her off the roof.

I got a musket tangled
in my girlfriend's hair, for Christ's sake.

There, that was romantic, right?

Passionate, yeah.

No, Brodie.
That was too little, too late.

Too little?
You said it was a good size.

The effort, you retard.
The effort was too little, too late.

But now that you mention it,
when a girl says it's a good size,

it's a nice way of saying
that it's small.

Hey!

Hey!

I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch.

No, forget about him.

He just wanted to give me something
that he forgot to give me a long time ago.

He's harmless now. Okay?

Fine. I gotta get back to the store.
Let's go.

- Right there in the elevator?
- I don't know what came over me.

She challenged my libido. I felt obligated
to defend myself against her accusations.

- It's not like you still wanted her.
- Not in the least. I'm over her.

Holy shit!

- You really love that girl.
- Yeah, right.

No, I never noticed it before,
but she really fuels your engine.

- You have this new glow about you.
- I don't have a glow.

You do. You're glowing.

If I have a glow,
it's because just I got laid.

I'd look the same if I banged
anyone in that elevator,

present company excluded.

Deny it all you want. I think you're
too proud to admit you want her back.

I suddenly want something very bad
to happen to you.

What's your problem? I don't understand.

- Gwen! I'm sorry.
- You fucker!

See! That's what you get
for fucking with me.

Hey, Gwen,
he didn't really mean to hit you.

He's got a funny way of showing it
by elbowing me in my frigging tit!

- Why the hell are you glowing?
- I'm not glowing.

- Brandi dumped him.
- Would you stop saying that?

- I know. I heard.
- You heard how?

She told me.
I ran into her a few minutes ago.

- Really? Where?
- By the stage.

Do you want me to rub it?

Work with me, people,
would you please?

No, I don't want this here.
I want it toward the front.

The rug keeps popping up.
If I put the podium there, it'll stay down!

Move it!

- Mr. Svenning!
- Give me the podium!

You put the podium
down over here...

...like this.

You stamp the carpet down
with your feet. You speak English?

Like this...

Mr. Svenning! Let me help you up.

- Get off! Move!
- Here, let me help you.

- Alright, where's Brandi?
- Let go of me!

Where's Brandi?

You're fired.
You get the hell out of here.

Get off my set!

- Where is she?
- You are out of her life.

Now, you stay out of her business
and mine, understand me?

Come on, people.
Are we working here?

Get the backdrop ready.
Are those lights ready to go?

Excuse me, you go on the other side
and put the podium

over the bad spot in the carpet, okay?
The hole? Please. Go. Now.

So, you made her dump me and now
you're gonna auction her off

in an effort to better further
your own career?

Not that it's any of your concern,
but Brandi agreed to be on Truth or Date.

After that shit you pulled last night,
I think she's even looking forward to it.

It'll give her a chance
to find herself... a decent guy.

Somebody with a brain.

You admit it?
You are behind our break-up.

Admit it?

Hell, I'm as proud of it
as I am of this game show here.

T.S...

Listen to me.
It's over between you two.

The sooner you get that,
the better off we're all gonna be.

Understand me?
You don't.

Guard, come here.
Get this guy off of my set.

If he gives you any shit,
you have my permission to castrate him.

- You can't do this!
- I just did.

- Get me LaFours.
- Right away, sir.

Well, go on!

I wonder if my mother
ever wore a pair like this.

How about these?

- Very sexy.
- That sounded convincing.

I'm preoccupied.

T.S., she told you. She's just doing it
as a favor to her father.

Regardless.

It's not like she'll fuck the guy
on public access.

- She might as well.
- You're overreacting again.

That's why your relationships fail.

It's certainly why ours did.

You got bent out of shape the same way
over that costume party in high school.

You fucked Rick Derris on a pool table!
With everyone watching, no less.

It was a costume party, T.S.
No one could tell it was me.

Besides, who else but you remembers
shit like that?

I would've been a sexy chick.

Do you remember that costume party?

Might that have been the one where
you banged Rick Derris on the pool table?

Nobody remembers shit like that?

How is it that you recall
the most trivial events?

I'll never forget it. How many chances
do you get to see Smokey fuck the Bandit?

Didn't I look just like Burt Reynolds?

Except for the mustache.

You know, they have a whole room
you're supposed to do that in?

Some pervert wanted to see me
naked so badly today,

he busted in on me twice
while I was trying on stuff.

This saves him the effort.

How much longer are we gonna be
in this chick store, anyway?

I'm starting to get a mean hard-on.

So, Brodie, tell me about
the Rene break-up.

I threw her away like a- parking ticket.
- Ha!

Don't front, Brodie.
I talked to Rene's cousin this morning.

- It was vice-versa.
- They certainly aren't acting broken up.

- Go ahead, ask him about the elevator.
- Tell me about the elevator.

It goes up and down.

Rene seems so coarse, anyway.
What was it like to date her?

- Ever slept with somebody?
- Yeah.

I mean, really slept with somebody.

Beside them, not just
fucked them on a gaming table.

We slept together one time,
remember, in high school?

- That ski trip?
- That was you?

Yes, Brodie,
I've slept beside many people.

Alright. You know how when
someone lays with their back to you

and you lay behind them really close
and you throw one arm over them?

- It's called spooning.
- But you gotta put the other arm somewhere.

You can either lay on it
or just shove it in between your bodies.

The only other option is to stretch it
above your head.

But sometimes my arm pops out
of the socket when I'm sleeping like that.

So, I was constantly searching
for some place to keep my arm

while still laying close to her.

And?

What do you mean, "And"? That's like
a metaphor for our whole relationship.

Jackass.

I'm all out.
I'll meet you at the food court.

I know exactly
how he feels. Excuse me.

Fill this with Coke, no ice.

Want a sip of my soda?

Smartass ex-boyfriend.

You know who I am?

A deeply resentful retail manager?

Rene's with me now.
Okay? You got that?

So don't be sniffing around her anymore
like you tried to do today.

Shit!

There goes the lung.

Listen to me.
I got two things to tell you.

One: I don't like you.
I see you every week in this mall.

I don't like shiftless layabouts.

You're one of these fucking
loser mallrat kids.

You don't come here to work or shop,
you hang out all day.

Act like you fucking live here.

I have no respect for people
with no shopping agenda.

Is this what's known
as motivated salesmanship?

Rene told me to leave you alone,
but she's fucking clueless.

The newly single often feel strangely
protective of the ex-boyfriend.

If this is her idea of protective,
hate to have her mad at me.

Now, you see, Bruce...

I like to pick up girls on the rebound
from a disappointing relationship.

They're more vulnerable,
they're much more in need of solace,

and they're fairly open to suggestion.

And I use that to fuck them
some place very uncomfortable.

What, like the back of a Volkswagen?

No, like somewhere girls dread.

Alright. Now...
is it because it's a challenge?

Is it because it's taboo?

Or is it because I like to,
you know...

have them differently
than they've ever been had before?

This sounds like a discussion
much more suited

to an extended professional
counseling session.

I'll go get a therapist for you.

Now, evidently, the only one
that's gonna need a doctor here

is yourself, my friend.

And my suggestion to you is...

forget you ever dated Rene.

Until I get what I'm looking for
from this latest dalliance,

I better not find you
within ten city blocks of her,

otherwise I will be forced to do you
some very serious damage.

Alright?
We clear on that?

Rene who?

There you go.
Not bad, you're learning.

- Well, alright, Bryce.
- Bruce.

I'm glad we had this little chat.

I'll remember it
when I'm fucking your girlfriend.

Alright.

And, my store's having
a sale next weekend.

You should come by.
I'll cut you a nice deal on a suit.

- Did we ever get along?
- Once or twice.

- How come we went out as long as we did?
- You had cable.

So, are you gonna stay for the show?

Absolutely not.
As soon as he gets back here, I'm gone.

T.S. Quint, where's your sense
of chivalry?

My God! Is that Brodie?

You're fucking kidding?
The Easter Bunny did this?

All I said was the Easter Bunny

at the Menlo Park mall
was more convincing.

He just jumped the railing
and knocked me down.

He's fucking dead!

Let it go.
He's under a lot of pressure.

What the hell happened to him?

The guy in the Easter Bunny suit
kicked his ass.

I had it coming.

Fuck all that shit.
Come on, Silent Bob.

What really happened?

The proprietor of Fashionable Male
beat a rain check into my stomach.

- Shannon Hamilton?
- You know that guy?

I went out with him
after we dated.

He tried to screw me
somewhere very uncomfortable once.

- What, like the back of a Volkswagen?
- Sounds like his M.O.

- Can you get up?
- Am I still glowing?

You're barely breathing.
Was Rene involved in any of this?

This was an independent
act of aggression.

He told me that his intentions were
to penetrate my ex-girlfriend

- in the most notorious of body cavities.
- Sounds just like him.

- You better tell Rene.
- Let him do whatever the hell he wants.

If she's not smart enough to see him for
what he is, she deserves the discomfort.

I, on the other hand, have had just about
all the discomfort I can stand for a day.

Shit, I'm late. I gotta go.

You're just gonna leave
with him in this condition?

I gotta split.
You gonna be okay?

Couple of pins in the hip,
I'll be good as new.

That's my boy.
Bye, guys. Be good.

Women, always leaving you when
you've just had the crap kicked out of you.

You look like you're gonna live to me.
You stay here. I gotta hit the bathroom.

Please, don't say "hit!"

Alright, honey. Don't forget
to look for your Easter eggs on Sunday.

Bye-bye, Easter Bunny.

Alright, who's next?
It's hot in this goddamn suit!

Hey, guys.
Wait in line like everybody else.

- What the hell is this?
- This is for Brodie.

He's here.

- What?
- Him and Brodie.

Don't sweat it, though. He's leaving.

He seems really broken up
over this whole thing.

Maybe because
we're broken up for good this time.

I remember when I dumped T.S.

I was alright with it till
he started dating you.

A little jealousy residue?

I thought so at first.
Then I realized it was more than that.

When I saw how he was with you, how
well you two complemented each other,

it finally hit me that T.S.
is a great catch.

Gwen, you were always
cheating on him.

Capricious youth?
Doesn't mean I wasn't regretful about it.

Jesus, Gwen, the last thing
I need at this point

is a lecture on my love life.

All I'm saying is that the really
good guys are few and far between.

In fact, I haven't met one since T.S.

Even if I did meet one,
I guarantee I'd use him

as the basis for my comparison.

You can have him if you want him.

Believe me, I might consider trying...

...if he weren't so hung up on you.

Well, I gotta get home.

- Have a great show.
- Okay. Bye.

Chocolate-covered pretzel?

This is Roddy,
Mr. Svenning's assistant.

Mr. Svenning would like
to have a word with you.

Where?
These are melting.

Copy that.
By the stage.

Tell him I'll be there in a minute.

- What do you think?
- I don't trust it.

Maybe he's calmed down a little bit.
We'll talk reasonably.

Reasonably, shmeasonably. You should
go over there and give him shit.

You kidding?
I'm trying to marry his daughter.

Alright, so you can't scream at him,
but after all he's done,

you should still stick it to him.

- How do you propose I do that?
- You stink-palm him.

What's a stink-palm?

Take your hand and you stick it
in your ass like this.

You've been walking all day
and you're also nervous

and no doubt you're sweaty as hell.

You should see yourself right now.
A man with his hand in his pants.

I probably look like my old man.

Now you shake hands with the guy.

"Hey, Mr. Svenning.
How've you been?"

What's the point?

Know how long it takes
for that smell to come off?

Scrub all you like, it'll stick around
for at least two days.

How does he explain it
to his colleagues and family?

They'll think he doesn't know
how to wipe his ass properly.

Meanwhile, you yourself are left
with a hand that smells like shit?

Small price to pay
for the smiting of one's enemies.

I think I'll pass. Do me a favor.

Stay here while I go talk to him.

I assure you, tonight's program
will go off without a hitch.

I hope so, Jared, for your sake.

You picked a dangerous mall
to host a game show in.

I hear the Easter Bunny
was accosted this morning.

If there's anything
even remotely resembling

the trouble you had
at the Governor's Ball,

you're gonna be hosting the Lotto drawing
on public access the rest of your career.

Gentlemen, please trust me.

I have just taken
the necessary precautions

To insure everything
will go smoothly.

Look out!

Nothing to worry about. Sound test!

I tell you what. Why don't...

Why don't I meet you back here
around show time?

Somebody said you wanted to see me?

Yes, I did.

You know what?
I'm feeling a little less frazzled,

and I thought maybe we might chat.

- Chat?
- Yes, chat.

Alright, look.

I realize that the other night
didn't go very well for you.

And I realize I'm to bear
most of the blame for that.

Yes, you do.

But hey, it was a grant
that would have enabled

the station and myself to make the leap
into syndication-viable programming,

leaving me, of course,
with no choice,

but to peddle this show
to the network execs and beg for a job.

No big deal. It's okay.

And for that I'm sorry.

But to penalize Brandi and I,
our relationship, for that...

Come on, isn't there
some other way?

No, I'm afraid not.

I mean, I can't exactly ask Brandi
to marry me if...

Marry you?

Marry you?

Yeah, I was gonna ask her
to marry me when we got to Florida.

You know...

I've always felt bad about the fact
that I had to raise Brandi on my own.

Her mother, she left us
when Brandi was only three.

Well, her mother was a little immature.

She was only 15
at the time when she had her.

Of course I was only 14,
but that's another story.

Anyway, ever since she left,
it was just the two of us.

But I've prided myself
on the fact that...

I have instilled in her
some strong values.

And while I know
she's generally a good girl,

I also know that,
being young once myself,

it's hard to sometimes
ignore certain...

...urges.

Tingles.

I'm not sure I follow you, sir.

Quint...

I accept the fact that
you no doubt fucked my daughter.

The two of you...

have been dating long enough for you
to have slimed your way into her panties,

and I'm sure you did just that
at least once or twice

in my own house,
probably while I was at home.

The idea of that used to keep me
awake at nights.

But now you give me something
even worse to think about.

The notion... of you...

as an albatross around my daughter's neck
for the rest of her life...

...Is too much.

Brandi has a bright future.

She is an extremely intelligent
and capable girl.

And I'm sure that one day she'll be
even more successful than me.

Maybe. But you...

You, on the other hand,
have absolutely no ambition.

And no chance of making it
in the real world.

My daughter is too good for you.

You will never, ever be with her.

So... if there isn't anything else...

Hey, fellas!

Well, well, well, if it isn't my neighbor.

You've been watching my family conduct
any more of our satanic rituals lately?

Please, sir, accept my apology
for my juvenile behavior.

Damn! Would you feel
that iron-grip handshake?

You know,
with an imagination like yours,

you belong on TV.

That's your forte, sir.
And you do it so well.

So, what's going on here?

Well, T.S. and I were just discussing
a few of his lesser points.

Of which he does have many.

Hey! Look at that ring. What is that?

That is my junior-college class ring.
Cum laude, '69.

I also hope to come loud one day,
preferably in a 69.

Boy, look at the shine on that.
Do you polish it daily?

You know, Bruce,
once you eventually get a job

and start working for a living,

you're gonna realize that
there's not enough time in the day

for such luxuries as ring polishing.

Is that so?

Say, would you like
a chocolate-covered pretzel?

They're a little melty,
but, damn, are they exquisite!

If I remember correctly,
you're a big pretzel fan.

- Um... Dark chocolate?
- Yeah.

- Come on!
- No, please, no!

They're awesome. Here you go.

Thank you.

That's good. Very nice.

Being a man who, believes in:
"One good turn deserves another..."

I have something to offer
the both of you.

Really, what's that?

- What is this?
- These are called handcuffs.

This is what is known
as a precautionary measure.

Easy, boy, easy.

I couldn't risk having you screw up
my career or make another play for Brandi.

Once I realized the both of you
were in the mall together,

I decided to set up
this little ambush to remove

you and your sidekick here
from the premises, permanently.

Why am I his sidekick?
How do you know he's not my sidekick?

Well, that's something you're gonna
have to figure out for yourself...

...in jail!

Take them away!

Yes! Whoo!

Joyous.

So good.

You're nothing
but a lot of talk and a badge!

Rene! Get Jay and Silent Bob!
Please!

- Hurry!
- Did somebody call your name?

Um, I have to go to the bathroom.
Wait here, okay?

Hey, anything for you, babe.
It's your day.

Thanks.

I'll tell you, what you need
is a fatty-boombatty blunt.

Then I guarantee
you see a sailboat, an ocean,

and maybe even some of them
big-titted mermaids doing lesbian shit.

Look at me, look at me,
you sloppy bitch!

Dude, you're a mad chick magnet!

T.S., Brodie, security guards.

Under arrest,
they need help! Go!

Wow. A sailboat.

- Brenda?
- Dick!

This is illegal!
You can't arrest us for nothing!

Alright.

I believe when Mr. LaFours turns us
over to the police,

the bag of contraband
that he's "found" on our persons

will give them more than enough
reason to keep us locked up.

At least for the duration of this evening's
show. Isn't that right, Mr. LaFours?

Come, son of Jor-El!
Kneel before Zod!

Snootchie bootchies! Ha-ha!

Asshole.

- Vulcan nerve pinch?
- That was close.

What about that stink-palm back there?
He even licked his hand.

We gotta disappear, man.
They'll be looking for us.

- Thank you, man. We owe you one.
- You wanna hide?

- I know just the place.
- Whatever. Let's just go.

- Don't I even get to wash my hand first?
- Brodie!

What the shit are we gonna do?

Yeahhh!

Come on, we're fucked!
They're right behind us. Come on!

Yeah! Bad-ass! Yeah!

Where do you get
those wonderful toys?

This is where we're hiding out?

This is the dirt mall.
Cops never come in here.

Neither does any
self-respecting consumer.

I never could figure out
what you saw in this place.

Good buys. Great people.
Earthy aromas.

- Hey, Walt!
- Brodie!

- They know me here.
- I wouldn't be too proud of that.

Listen to the sound of defeat
in your voice.

Might it have to do with the fact
that I've been defeated?

You're giving up? You?

You used to be a stand-up kind of guy.
What happened to that guy?

The guy who punched Amanda Gross'
mother after she called him "low-class."

- That wasn't me, that was you.
- Yeah.

It wasn't her mother,
it was her grandmother.

No wonder the bitch
went down so fast.

Hey! You should have boards
in them. Alright?

Bloody savage.

That is one of your more
admirably deplorable traits.

You, unlike me, would beat up
somebody's grandmother

or an entire senior citizens' community
if you believed in the principle.

Yeah. But only if they were really old.

Maybe I was deluded.

Maybe you were right this morning

when you said if something stupid
could change how she feels

she's not into it in the first place.

You're gonna listen to me?
To something I said?

Jesus, man! Haven't I made it clear
during the tenure of our friendship

that I don't know shit?

I mean, half the time
I'm just talking out of my ass.

Or sticking my hand in it.

Sometimes, yes, but on occasion,

you've been known to let
a nugget of truth slip out.

This morning might've been
one of those occasions.

You know what you need?
Some sage-like advice.

You've given me enough
for one day, thanks.

Not from me, from Ivannah.

Who's lvannah?

- I can't even find the words.
- Is that ingenuity or what?

What's palm-reading have to do
with being topless?

Man, it makes the news easier to take.

She could tell me I'd die in 10 minutes
so long as she told me topless.

Your maleness amazes me
sometimes.

What can I say? I love tits.

What kind of people
patronize this service?

- People like us.
- Wait a minute, you're not suggesting...

Come on, don't be such
a damn fundamentalist.

I've already reached my lowest today.
This is where I draw the line.

You used to like tits, too.

I love tits as much as the next guy,
but why pay some old hag good money

for supernatural chicanery coupled
with sagging, wrinkled, weathered boobs?

You know, Quint...

you're a homosexual.

Man, this place is
something out of "Octopussy."

You've come
for a glimpse at your future?

Amongst other things.

Talents like those I possess
are not to be taken lightly.

If you have heart condition,
suffer from nervous nausea,

or have a family history
of stress-induced breakdown,

Empire Entertainment recommends
you do not partake

in the fortune-telling activities
contained within.

You guys still in?

We're both healthy
and strapping young men.

You give me $58.60.

What?

- You expect me to pay for this?
- I'm broke. I'll pay you back.

I knew it. I can't believe you.
I didn't even want to do this.

You'll thank me later.

Thank you.

Alright, gentlemen,
free your mind.

I'd like to free something.

- Focus.
- That's what I was thinking.

- She said "focus."
- Whatever.

I sense a grave disturbance
between you both.

A difficulty in affecting a resolution
for a problem.

- Something hard.
- I'm convinced. She's got the gift.

Try to contain yourself.

But look, Miss, I appreciate the effort
and I'm sure you're very good at...

...whatever it is you do, but my shallow
friend isn't interested in his future,

so you can cut the theatrics.

What a relief.
I do so much better

when I don't have to say
things in character.

You don't have to say
anything at all.

You paid,
I should tell you something.

In order to do that......

I have to work completely...

...unfettered.

Ooh, yes.

I can definitely sense
the problem. Here.

Girl trouble.

Apparently, you're both on the outs
with your respective steadies.

- That's amazing.
- That's disgusting!

You both feel the pain...

...of loss, but only one of you
makes it vocal.

The other one suffers silently.

- My God, you're right.
- We gotta go.

How can this be resolved?

I would say, yes...

combine your efforts.

You both have very strong auras,

and two strong auras
produce positive results.

I feel nauseous.

- So, in working together...
- You'll beat the odds. The odds. Yes.

That's what I see.

- Let me tell you what I see...
- That's great!

I don't buy her power.

Alright, when's my birthday?

Between the first and the last...

of October.

- Did you hear that?
- Very haunting. Let's go.

Miss Ivannah, why are you
stuck here in this dirt mall

and not in an upscale
commercial setting?

You could be raking in the dough
with your kind of accuracy.

Believe it or not, some people
still frown on topless fortune-telling.

Unfortunately, it's the only way
that I'm effective.

- Really?
- It's the third nipple that does it.

You have a third nipple?

What are you talking about?

It's clear as day!
Look at it, for God's sake.

- You can stare at it. I don't mind.
- No.

Understanding is reached
only after confrontation.

Of course!
Miss Ivannah, thank you so much.

I can't tell you how informative
you've been. Thank you very much.

And don't ever lose that nipple.

I won't.

- Do you have...
- Any other extra body parts?

- No.
- Just curious.

You could double-check me,
if you like.

- Really?
- Come on!

Works every time.

Cherry.

- You're gonna what?
- I'll get on her father's game show.

Are you kidding? Last time he had dope
planted on us. What'll he do this time?

He can't touch us once it starts.
It's a live feed.

He can't risk losing face
in front of the network execs.

- It can't happen.
- I'm gonna make it happen.

"Understanding is reached
only after confrontation."

That's what Miss lvannah said.
Brandi will respond to confrontation.

Hey, man.
Didn't I see you on CNN?

What the hell's your problem, anyway?

You're supposed to be
the impetuous one, not me.

- Why are you fighting me?
- I'm being rational!

You're being scared you may want
to follow my lead and win Rene back!

- Rene who?
- Whatever. Just do me a favor.

Meet me by the stage
once the show starts.

- I'll need your help.
- Where are you going?

- Shopping!
- What the hell am I supposed to do?

Hey, man! It wasn't me!

Dude, this looks like your mom.

I've been looking all over
for you two.

- We're hiding.
- In a bookstore?

Last place anyone'd look for me
and this tubby bitch.

- I need your help.
- What?

- You two up for getting stoned?
- Look who you're asking.

You looking at that couple inside?

Actually, I was just looking
at this little pink number over here.

That's kind of nice.
They look happy, don't they?

- What, the bras?
- No, the couple. They look happy.

I guess, as far as couples go.

You know, it reminds me
of an issue of Spider-Man I did.

When Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy
went lingerie shopping.

Of course, the Green Goblin
showed up,

and he pumpkin-bombed
the hell out of the place.

But aside from that,
it's pretty much the same thing.

My God!

Holy shit!

- Aren't you...
- Stan Lee. Hi.

What's up, boys?
You guys on this show?

That's the rumor.

Man, between hoping to win,
the crowd out there,

and being on TV, I'd be scared as hell
if I were you two.

- Yeah?
- Sure, man. What if you fuck up?

Your friends and family watching.

I'd be piss scared I'd get a boner
or fucking fart or something.

He's got a point, man.
This is live. Anything could happen.

Shut the fuck up, man.
You're making me nervous.

There's only one thing
that could take off that edge.

Make you feel relaxed as hell.

Make you forget how many people
are staring at you here and on TV.

And what's that?

Snootchie bootchie nootchies!

The Fantastic Four. Reed Richards.
Can his whole body stretch?

I mean every part,
you know, like his...

I know what you mean.

We never really tackled
stuff like that in the old days.

What with the comic-book code
and all.

I can't believe I'm standing here
talking to you!

You're responsible for the greats.
Let's do the list. Spider-Man?

- Guilty.
- The Incredible Hulk?

- Afraid so.
- Man, this is so cool.

- The X-Men?
- Now that you mention it.

Shit, man. You are a god!

Hey, look at that couple.

Boy, they sure seem
to be in love?

What's with that? That's the second time
you've commented on couples in love.

Well, I like that sort of thing.

Tell me, do you have a girlfriend,
Brodie?

Had one.
We just broke up.

The Thing? Is his dork made of orange rock
like the rest of his body?

It's a superhero secret.

Tell me, Brodie. Why did you
and your girlfriend break up?

She was a pain in the ass.

She wanted me to be
this typical boyfriend guy.

Said I was too into my own world
of comics and all.

Yeah, I can relate.

There was a time when it was
all about comics for me.

I had a girl, probably
the same as yours.

She always complained that I spent
too much time with my own comics.

And eventually we broke up.

See, what did she know?
Here you are now, a legend in the field.

Probably had a slew of women
since her, am I right?

Lots of women.

Jagger and me, we had a running
contest to see who had the most.

Matter of fact, last time I looked,
I was way ahead.

Damn, that's hot!

But I never forgot that girl.

Did you ever get back
together with her?

One day I found out
she got married.

I had blown it.
I had missed my window.

No way.

What'd you do?

I went on with my life.

I created some special
new superheroes.

They were characters
that reflected

my own heartbreak
and my own regrets.

How so?

Doctor Doom wears body armor

to conceal his own mangled form.

- Right?
- Yeah.

Okay, that was me
beneath the armor.

The Hulk.

A normal guy one minute,
a rage of emotions the next.

Just like me when I thought
about what I'd given up.

So you created each character

as a way to deal
with your one big regret.

Yeah, the girl that got away.

Look, do yourself a favor, Brodie.

Don't wait.

Because all the money,
all the women,

even all the comic books
in the world,

they can't substitute
for that one person.

I don't know.
All the comics in the world?

Trust me, true believer.

Well, good talking to you.

Keep up all the good work.

You keep reading 'em,
I'll keep writing 'em.

- Hey, Stan!
- Yeah?

- She really meant that much to you?
- Brodie...

I'd give it all up, all of it,
for just one more day with her.

Take care.

- Stan!
- Hit

- Hey, you know, I think he bought it.
- What kind of story did you give him?

It was the Vulture's soliloquy,
you know,

from the Spider-Man
anniversary issue.

"Love Be a Vulture Tonight." Yeah.

- I can't thank you enough, Mr. Lee.
- Forget it.

You know, I think you ought
to get him some help.

He seems to be really hung up
on superheroes' sex organs.

But he'll outgrow it. Okay.

- Mr. Lee?
- Yeah.

- Excelsior!
- You got that right.

See you.

Cool.

I think I felt it move.

Just kidding.

- Just the two I'm looking for. I need help.
- With what?

- Let me borrow the Shannon Hamilton tape.
- Why?

It's important! The future
of my relationship depends on it.

- It's at my house.
- Take T.S.'s station wagon, parked in 2D.

- I don't even have a license.
- Just go!

You still got that stage schematic?

I need you to wire something
together for me.

Jesus. What's with him?

I don't know.
I'm suddenly not feeling too well.

But everything is fine.

We're about to start.

You are in for something
really special tonight, gentlemen.

I have lined up...

Excuse me.

Jesus.

Sorry. I have lined up
some really bright kids here.

This promises to be a lot of fun.
I'm sure you're gonna love it.

Shouldn't you be in bed or something?

No, no, no. I wouldn't miss this
for the world.

Go and make sure everybody's
ready and let's start.

How much did you smoke?

All it took was a fat chronic blunt.
These guys were lightweights.

- How tent you?

As long as you promise,
next time you pop your old lady,

you make her call you "Jay."
Snootchie bootchies.

- Let's hope there is a next time.
- Alright, I'm ready.

You're never gonna believe
who I just met.

- What the hell happened to these two?
- Power of the Dark Side.

Wait, there's only two.

There's supposed to be three.
Where's the third guy?

- I never saw a third guy.
- Hey, who's this asshole?

What the hell happened to those guys?

- They got lightheaded.
- You got that right.

- So what, they gonna cancel the show?
- What do you care?

I'm supposed to be on it.
I'm Gil Hicks. Suitor Number Three.

We're taking their place.
I'm T.S. Quint. This is Brodie Bruce.

Didn't I see you on the news?

Look, dude, don't give him
any shit, alright?

Something's going on here.
Where's Mr. Svenning?

Mr. Svenning has come down
with a sudden case of diphtheria.

What happened to those two?

They got sick. We volunteer
to take their place.

Isn't this guy from Monmouth State?

He and that broad tried
to kill the Governor.

Yes, it is. Alright, Quint.

I don't know how you got back in,
but I'm alerting Mr. Svenning.

We'll postpone the start
until we figure this all out.

You called down the thunder,
now you've got it! Security!

- Hey, Roddy...
- What?

- Jesus Christ, you knocked him out.
- Now hit him!

Somebody call security?
What happened to those two?

They got stoned and knocked him out.
He needs medical attention.

That's not what...

Could you have him removed?
The show's about to start.

Whatever.

Look, dude. No more shit, alright?

Just go out and woo like you're
supposed to and nobody gets hurt.

When Tricia shows up
with the videotape,

you get it to Silent Bob, understand?

I'm on it.
Wait a sec, where is that tubby bitch?

Good evening and welcome
to Truth or Date.

One match made here
ignites the fires of romance.

Hi, I'm Bob Summers, your host,

and tonight we'll watch as one
of our three lucky suitors

woos our beautiful, eligible suitor-ette.

Ladies and gentlemen, get ready
for romance in the making,

as we introduce the suitors!

Our first suitor goes
to Marymount College

where he majors in Economics.

Say hi to Doug Paging.

Do it, Doug!

Our second suitor hails
from Canisius College in Buffalo,

where he majors
in Communications.

Say hi to Rob Feature.

Our final suitor goes to Rutgers,

where he majors
in Fine Arts and Greek mythology.

A nice welcome for Gil Hicks.

Pay attention, dick.

May the best man win.

And now, ladies and gentlemen,
I'd like to introduce our lovely suitor-ette.

From Monmouth State where she majors
in Astronomy and Earth Sciences,

a big welcome for
the lovely Brandi Svenning.

Alright, everybody knows
how the game is played.

Our lovely suitor-ette will ask
a series of questions of our suitors,

and make her decision
based on their answers.

Anything goes!

Brandi, are you ready?

- Absolutely, Bob.
- Then you may fire when ready.

Okay.

Um...

Suitor Number One.

If you were a car,
what kind of car would you be?

Um... the kind you'd never dump
your boyfriend in.

Okay...
Suitor Number Two.

Can't you call me
the Second Suitor?

"Suitor Number Two" sounds like
a bathroom code, you know?

Now, the Second Suitor
sounds like a figure of mystery.

Like I belong on the Grassy Knoll.

Okay.

Second Suitor.

If we were making whoopee...

- What's whoopee?
-Um...

Well, if we were...

If we were being intimate...

What, like fucking?

Yeah. If we were, you know...
what kind of noises would you make?

No, I think that's kind of personal.
I don't think I should answer that.

Okay.
Suitor Number Three.

- What would our first date be like?
- Well...

First I'd take you shopping
to the stores you'd want to shop in.

And then we'd do a little lunch,
probably at the Cheese Haus,

followed by some golfing.

Then at night, we'd take in an opera,
probably Die Fledermaus.

And then I'd follow it all up
with a drive to a secluded beach,

where I'd pop on the radio

and then we could slow dance
till the sun came up.

That was the biggest load of crap
I've ever heard!

I mean, look at you, you're the kind
of guy that would beg for sex!

I should know,
we can smell our own.

Suitor Number One.

If we fell in love,
how would you propose to me?

- When Jaws popped out of the water.
- Excuse me?

I'll propose to you right now.

I propose you stop letting
your father run your life,

and be true to yourself and not give up
on someone you know has value.

Yeah, and take off your socks
when you make whoopee,

or whatever the hell that word is,
he hates it when you leave them on.

- W-What?
- Hypothetically speaking.

Suitor Number One,
you sound familiar.

Like your conscience, maybe?

Look, lady, you don't know him,
alright?

- Now make with the questions.
- Suitor Number Three...

Is your kiss like a soft breeze,
a firm handshake, or a jackhammer?

What's the funny guy doing
with his hands?

I don't want to know.

What the fuck is going on up there?

Never mind. You go tell LaFours
to call the police.

I want the fucking Department
down here now to arrest those guys.

Now. Go.

Definitely a jackhammer.

I'm in there with some pressure,
and when I'm done,

you're not the same as before,
you're changed.

Where do you come up
with this shit?

That is the cheesiest response
to an honest question I've ever heard.

I saw you kiss
and it wasn't anything like that.

Ha-ha! Suitor Number Two,
you have to wait

until you're addressed
before you respond.

Richard Dawson,
just go back to your podium

until it's time to play the Feud,
alright?

- Who the hell did you see me kiss?
- Some dude backstage.

I don't know who he was,
but he seemed unimpressed.

I didn't kiss any guy backstage,
I swear. I'm not gay.

Hey, Suitor-ette,
this guy's a homophobe.

You heard how repulsed he sounded.

Is this the kind of guy
you want to spend a vacation with?

- This hatemonger?
- I don't hate gay people!

- So you love them?
- Yes!

- I mean, no!
- Textbook closet case. Self-loather.

Can't be comfortable
with his own sexuality.

Brodie told me to give this to you.

Are you watching this shit, man?
It's fucked up!

I don't wanna be here when that tape
does what I think it's going to do.

Why the hell not, man?
This shit is dope.

- Holy fuck. He'll kill him.
- Who'll kill who?

LaFours, man.
Silent Bob, he's my fucking boy, man.

- What am I going to fucking do?
- Point him out.

Miss Suitor-ette, how about
you answer a question from me?

- Um, I don't think that's...
- How strong are your convictions?

Hi.

Would you be interested in partaking
in some psycho-behavioral research?

- What are you talking about?
- How easily do you quit?

- Say you wind up with one of us...
- Hopefully not Rush Limbaugh over here.

I'm not like Rush Limbaugh!

Why not, because he's fat?
You got something against fat people, too?

Snootchie bootchies!

Are you ready?

If I have a conviction,
I stick to it.

Were you ever in love?

- Yes, as a matter of fact.
- Really?

- What happened to your boyfriend?
- Well, he...

- We broke up.
- Why?

- It just didn't work out.
- I mean, were you unhappy?

- Sometimes.
- Why?

I don't know. The usual baggage.

He lacked a sense of romance.

He almost ruined my father's career.

He got me implicated
in an attempted murder.

That was an accident!

T.S.?

Hey, what about the rest of us?
Why don't you ask me a question?

Suitor Number Two...

- Hey, what about me?
- Gil, just shut the fuck up!

Second Suitor... would you ever
make whoopee in public?

I already did once today.

But my cousin Walter jerked off
in public once. True story.

He was on a plane to New Mexico,
when all of a sudden the hydraulics went.

The plane started spinning around,
going out of control.

He decides it's all over, whips it out
and starts beating it right there.

So all the other passengers
take a cue from him,

and they start whipping it out
and beating like mad.

So all the passengers are beating off,
plummeting to their certain doom,

when all of a sudden... the hydraulics
kick back in and the plane rights itself.

It lands safely,

and everyone puts their pieces,
or whatever, away and deboard.

Nobody mentions the phenomenon
to anyone else.

Well, did he come or what?

Jesus Christ, Gil!

There are just some things
you do not mention in public!

Second Suitor...

If you were a comic-book character,
what character would you be?

Wow, that's a great question.

A tough one, though.
What does one gauge his response on?

Physical prowess?
Keen detection skills?

The ability to banter well
with super villains?

How's your comic-book
collection, Brodie?

It's going good.
But, I mean...

Comics!
What are you talking about, lady?

I don't collect comics.
Comics are for kids!

I knew it.

Suitor Number One, you just don't
know when to quit, do you?

No. No, but you sure do.
I thought you were in love.

- I was. But you complicated my life.
- How so?

Well, you placed me in such a damned
uncomfortable position with my father...

Twice even!
What was I supposed to do?

Show a little backbone.

I was ready to show a little backbone.

And then you had to show up
with Bumbler the Boy Wonder over there

and screw things up further, proving that
you never took the situation seriously.

Boy Wonder?
I'm all man, lady!

I've never done anything
but show interest in you.

Our whole goddamn romantic career
I doted on you.

The minute things got dicey,
you cracked.

There we were, mere hours from
spending an entire week alone together

away from our family, school,

and she throws in the towel
because her daddy says so.

He got us shot at
by the Federal authorities.

He brought his troublemaker friend
over to my house,

where he proceeded to allow news cameras
to take naked videos of my father.

Then he had the audacity to inform me

that on this vacation
that we were supposed to take

that he was gonna propose to me,
without even discussing it with me first!

We've been talking about getting
married since high school.

He could've approached my father
man to man,

and made his intentions clear.

He could've apologized
for all the problems that he caused.

But what does he do instead?
He just goes on with his life.

I mean here he is,
he's hanging out at a mall.

You put yourself on an auction block,
for God's sake,

in front of a live studio audience!

Do I get a chance
to field any more questions?

No!

Look, I think I should say something here.
I know both of you pretty well.

Suitor-ette, Suitor Number One has done
nothing but pine over you all day

trying to figure out a way
to win you back.

When this public opportunity
to literally do that arose,

he pulled his shit together,
risked life and limb,

and faced the odds to get up here
and give it his best shot.

I'm tired of this whole thing!

You're both retarded for each other!

Now forget about the shit that happened
and do what you're supposed to!

I think the audience would agree
with me there.

Well, ask her, you silly bastard!

Miss Suitor-ette...

Suitor Number One loves you,

has always loved you,
and will always love you.

He's only got one question
that he'd like to ask.

Will you marry me?

Yes.

Snootchie bootchies,
Brodie-nootchies!

- Are we set or what?
- Good to go.

- Hey, did you see LaFours out there?
- No.

For a minute there,
I thought that we were in trouble.

A sailboat.

I think it's safe to say,
we've made our match.

These two lucky people will soon
be winging their way

to beautiful, sunny Florida
for a week of theme parks, beaches

and a lot more from the look of it.

Well, I guess that about wraps it up for...

Not just yet, Pat Sajak. Alright?

You, alright...

I believe you have something
that belongs to me.

- Yeah? What's that?
- Not you, asshole! The girl.

You have my heart.

What can I say?
I love the retard.

Wait a minute, I thought tonight
we were supposed to...

Hey, Hamilton!

Let's try to wrap this up, alright?
I promised her breakfast.

Alright, that's it.

You're dead, mallrat.
I'm gonna fuck you up beyond repair!

Sailboat. Sailboat. Goddamn sailboat.

What in Christ's name
took you guys so long?

Get your asses up there
and arrest those guys.

The one with the girl
and the one with the microphone.

For what?

Trespassing, public lewdness,
FCC violation.

Food poisoning!

Ladies and gentlemen,
this tall drink of water headed my way

is a pillar of the shopping community,

who informed me earlier today
of a nefarious plan of his

to screw my girlfriend
in a very uncomfortable place.

What? Like the back
of a Volkswagen?

And as he comes up here to...

Holy shit.

Well, without further ado,
I'd like to present you all

with an accurate portrayal
of the proprietor of Fashionable Male.

Now, Silent Bob!

I said now, Silent Bob!

When, Lord? When the hell do I
get to see the goddamn sailboat?

Now, now, now!

'Who's your favorite New Kid?"

'Call me Joey. Yeah.
Don't make me get loose. I think that's it.

'Yeah. Call me Donnie.
Come on. Girl.

"Yeah, please don't go.

No wonder why she walks
all fucked up.

Hey, that girl's only 15.

15? I thought she was 36.

Hey, come on, guys.
Tell me you wouldn't have popped her?

Hey, you know where you're going

they screw people
in a very uncomfortable place.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Hey, hey, hey! You can't strike
a prisoner in police custody.

Come on, just once?

Alright, but make it fast.

Would you have gone on vacation
with the winner?

What do you think?

I don't know, I think you would have.

But I would've sent you a postcard.

What the hell is wrong with me?

If the tape was out of your reach,
how the hell did you get it?

The Jedi mind trick!

Holy shit!
Motherfucking Yoda and shit!

Adventure? Excitement?
A Jedi craves not these things.

Holy! You spoke.

There was never anything good
to say before.

Did you see that shit?
You call that romance?

I call that illegal.

So...

So what?

I was just wondering, if maybe
you're not busy tomorrow night...

Yeah?

Would you like to come over to my house
for dinner and meet my mother?

I can't guarantee
she's gonna like you, but...

Hey, want a cookie? It's on me.

It was just a warm-up.
Please, come on?

The show would always go smoother
and be less racy.

Svenning, the show was a piece of shit.
Unoriginal, uninspired, you know.

The only thing that saved it
was this guy here.

I'm Bentley Garrison,
with the network.

Me and Mason thought
you were hysterical.

Hilarious.
You've got great presence, kid.

Have you ever considered
hosting your own talk show?

- Yeah.
- Him?

Excuse me, sir.
Are you the producer of this program?

Of course I am, you stupid shit!

And I want those two guys arrested!

Sir, you're under arrest.

- What?
- What for?

For broadcasting lewd
or indecent images in a public forum

and violation of about
19 FCC regulations.

Jesus Christ!

And for vomiting on my shoes!

Yeah?