All language subtitles for Heathers (1989) [1080p] [WEB-DL].track2

Damn.

It's your turn, Heather.

No, Heather.
It's Heather's turn.

Heather.

Sorry, Heather.

Ow!

Dear Diary,

Heather told me
she teaches people real life.

She said real
life sucks losers dry.

If you want to
fuck with the eagles,
you have to learn to fly.

I said, "So, you teach
people how to
spread their wings and fly?"

She said, "Yes."

I said, "You're beautiful."

God, come on, Veronica.

What is your damage, Heather?

Don't blame me, blame Heather.

She told me to haul your ass
into the caf pronto.

Back me up, Heather.

Yeah, she really wants to
talk to you, Veronica.

Okay, I'm going. Jesus Christ.

Hello, Heather.

Veronica. Finally.

I got a note of Kurt Kelly's.

I need you to forge
a hot and horny

but realistically low-key
note in Kurt's handwriting.

I'll slip it onto
Martha Dumptruck's lunch tray.

Shit, Heather, I don't have
anything against
Martha Dunnstock.

You don't have
anything for her either.

Come on. It'll be very.

The note will give her
shower nozzle masturbation
material for weeks.

I'll think about it.

Don't think.

Veronica needs
something to write on.
Heather, bend over.

Dear Martha,
you're so sweet...

I'm telling you, man,
it would so be righteous

to be in a Veronica Sawyer/
Heather Chandler sandwich.

Oh, hell, yes.

I wanna get a Heather
and put her on my Johnson

and just start
spinning her around
like a goddamn pinwheel.

- Punch it in.

Westerburg
feeds the world.
Come on, people.

Let's give that leftover
lunch money to people
who don't have lunches.

Those Tater Tots
you threw away are...

God, aren't they fed yet?

Do they even have
Thanksgiving in Africa?

Oh, sure. Pilgrims,
Indians, Tater Tots.

It's a real party continent.

Sawyer, guess what today is.

Ouch. Lunchtime poll?
So what's the question?

Yeah, so what's
the question, Heather?

Goddamn, Heather,
you were with me in study hall
when I thought of it.

I forgot.

Such a pillowcase.

This wouldn't be that bizarro
thing you were babbling about

over the phone
last night, would it?

Of course it is.

I told Dennis if he gives me
another political topic,
I'd spew burrito chunks.

Oh, Veronica, I'm sorry.

Betty Finn. Gosh.

Hey, I'm really sorry
I couldn't make it to your
birthday party last month.

It's okay. Your mom
said you had a big date.

I think I'd probably miss
my own birthday for a date.

- Don't say that.
- You know what?

I was looking around
the other day and I dug up
these old photographs.

Oh, wow, they're great.

Come on, Veronica.

I was talking to somebody.

Great. Here comes Heather.

Oh, shit.

- Hi, Courtney.
Love your cardigan.
- Thanks.

I just got it last
night at The Limited.

Like, totally blew
my allowance.

Now, check this out.
You win $5 million from
the Publisher Sweepstakes

and the same day
that Big Ed guy
gives you the check,

aliens land on the Earth
and say they're gonna
blow up the world in two days.

What do you do?

That's easy.

I'd just slide that
wad over to my father,

'cause he is, like, one of the
top brokers in the state.

If I got that money,
I'd give it all
to the homeless.

Every cent.

You're beautiful.

If you're going to
openly be a bitch...

It's just... Heather,
why can't we talk
to different kinds of people?

Fuck me gently
with a chainsaw.
Do I look like Mother Teresa?

If I did,
I probably wouldn't mind
talking to the geek squad.

Did see that?
Heather number one
just looked right at me.

Does it not bother you that
everybody in this school
thinks that you're a piranha?

Like I give a shit.

They all want me as
a friend or a fuck.

I'm worshiped at Westerburg
and I'm only a junior.

I can't believe this.
We're going to a party at
Remington University tonight

and we're brushing up on
our conversational skills with
the scum of the school.

Hi.

So this is what's
called a lunchtime poll.

You win $5 million
in the Publisher Sweepstakes

and the same day that
what's-his-face
gives you the check,

aliens land on Earth

and say they're going to
blow up the world
in two days.

What are you going
to do with the money?

I'd go to Egypt.

With a girl.

I'd use the money for
an end-of-the-world
get-together.

I'd pay Madonna
a million bucks
to sit on my face

and have her ride it like
the Kentucky Derby.

That's gotta be the most
spooky-ass question
I ever heard.

All right, this is important.
After taxes,
I'll only be getting...

She should pay me, though.

You go to the zoo
and you get a lion,

and then you put
a remote control bomb
up its butt...

And then there's
social security, legal fees...

You push the button
on the bomb and you
and the lion die like one.

What?

Oh, my God. Here we go.

Oh, my God.

Hi, Veronica. Five keeps
the neighborhood alive.

You wanted to be a member
of the most powerful
clique in school.

If I wasn't
already the head of it,
I'd want the same thing.

Come on, Veronica.

You used to have
a sense of humor.

Veronica, could you
come back here a minute?

A true friend's
work is never done.

Gross.

Grow up, Heather.
Bulimia is so '87.

- You know, maybe you
should see a doctor.
- Yeah, maybe.

Come on, Heather,
let's take another
look at today's lunch.

God, Veronica, drool much?

His name's Jason Dean.

He's in my American History.

Hello, Jason Dean.

Greetings and salutations.

Are you a Heather?

No.

I'm a Veronica. Sawyer.

This may seem like
a really stupid question.

There are no stupid questions.

You inherit $5 million
the same day aliens
land on the Earth

and say they're
going to blow it up
in two days.

What do you do?

That's the stupidest question
I've ever heard.

Who's that guy in the coat
think he is anyways?

Bo Diddley?

Veronica's into
his act, no doubt.

I don't know.
Probably row out to the middle
of a lake somewhere,

bring along
a bottle of tequila,

my sax and some Bach.

How very.

Come on, Veronica.

Later.

Definitely.

Let's kick his ass.

Shit, Ram. We're seniors, man.

We're too old for kind
of that kind of crap.

Let's give him
a good scare, though.

You gonna eat this?

What did your boyfriend say
when you told him you
were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?

Answer him, dick.

Hey, Ram,
doesn't this cafeteria
have a "no fags allowed" rule?

They seem to have
an open-door policy for
assholes, though, don't they?

What did you say, dickhead?

I'll repeat myself.

God, they won't expel him,
they'll just suspend him for
a week or something.

He used a real gun.
They should throw
his ass in jail.

No way.
He used blanks.

All J.D. really did was
ruin two pairs of pants.

Maybe not even that.

Can you bleach
out urine stains?

You seem pretty amused.
I thought you had given up
on high school guys.

Never say never.

So, what are you
going to do, Heather?

Take the two
shots or send me out?

Did you have a brain
tumor for breakfast?

First you ask if
you can be red,

knowing that I'm always red.

Shit.

It's your turn, Heather.

Easy shot, Heather.

No way, no day.

Give it up, girl.

- Holy shit.
- God, that was incredible!

Whoo!

So, tonight's the night.
Are you two excited?

I'm giving Veronica her shot,

her first Remington party.

You blow it tonight, girl,

and it's keggers
with kids all next year.

Why?

Why not?

Heather, your mother's here.

Come on, whoever wants a ride.

- Bye. Thank you.
- Bye-bye, girls.

Hey, take a break, Veronica.
Sit down.

So, what was the first week
of spring vacation
withdrawal like?

I don't know.
It was okay, I guess.

Hey, kid,
isn't the prom coming up?

I guess.

Any contestants
worth mentioning?

Maybe.

There's kind of a
dark horse in the running.

Goddamn, will somebody tell me
why I read these spy novels?

Because you're an idiot.

Oh, yeah, that's it.

You two.

Great pate, but I gotta motor
if I want to be ready for
that party tonight.

HEATHER McNAMARA: Corn nuts!

BQ or plain?

BQ!

You going to pull a
super-chug with that?

No, but if you're nice,
I'll let you buy me a Slushie.

I see you know your
convenience-speak pretty well.

Yeah, well, I've been
moved around all my life.

Dallas, Baton Rouge, Vegas,

Sherwood, Ohio.

There's always been
a Snappy Snack Shack.

Any town, any time, you can
pop a ham and cheese
in the microwave

and feast on a turbo-dog.

Keeps me sane.

Really?

That thing you
pulled in the caf today
was pretty severe.

Yeah, well,
the extreme always seems
to make an impression.

Did you say
a cherry or Coke Slushie?

I didn't. Cherry.

Great bike.

Yeah. Just a humble perk
from my dad's
construction company.

Seen the commercial, right?

"Bringing every
state to a higher state."

Wait a minute. Jason Dean.

Your pop's Big Bud
Dean Construction?

It must be rough
moving place to place.

Everybody's life
has got static.
Is your life perfect?

Oh, yeah,
I'm on my way to a party
at Remington University.

- Hmm.

No, my life's not perfect.

I don't really
like my friends.

Yeah, I, uh...
I don't really like
your friends, either.

Well, it's just like
they're people I work with

and our job is
being popular and shit.

Maybe it's time
to take a vacation.

Hello, ladies.
Throw your coats on the floor.

Veronica, this is Brad.

Excellent.

Did you girls bring
your partying slippers, huh?

Let's party.

She loves to party.

Dear Diary,
I want to kill,

and you have to believe,
it's for more than
just selfish reasons.

More than just a spoke
in my menstrual cycle.

You have to believe me.

It's so great to be able
to talk to a girl and not have
to ask, "What's your major?"

I hate that.

So, when you go to college,

what subjects do you
think you'll study?

Come on, David.
Shouldn't we get
back to the party?

We will.

It's just you're
so hot tonight.

I can't control myself.

Oh, Christ, I can't
explain it but I'm allowed
an understanding

that my parents and these
Remington University assholes
have chosen to ignore.

I understand that
I must stop Heather.

How's my little
cheerleader, huh?

Oh, I know everyone
at your high school
isn't so uptight.

- Come on.
- Come on, now. Look,
I don't feel so good, okay?

Hey, let's do it on the coats.
It'll be excellent, huh?

You know, I have a little
prepared speech

I tell my suitor
when he wants more
than I'd like to give him.

Gee, blank,
I had a really nice...

Save the speeches
for Malcolm X.

I just want to get laid.

You don't deserve my
fucking speech.

Betty Finn
was a true friend and
I sold her out

for a bunch of Swatchdogs
and Diet Cokeheads.

Killing Heather would be
like offing the Wicked Witch
of the West.

Wait, East. West!
God, I sound like
a fucking psycho.

What's your damage?
Brad says you're being
a real cooze.

Heather, I feel really sick,
like I'm gonna throw up,
so can we please jam now?

No. Hell, no.

Tomorrow I'll be
kissing her aerobicized ass,

but tonight let me dream of
a world without Heather,

a world where I am free.

You stupid fuck.

You goddamn bitch.

You were nothing
before you met me.

You were playing Barbies
with Betty Finn.

You were a Blue Bird,
you were a Brownie,

you were a Girl Scout cookie.

I got you into
a Remington party.

What's my thanks?
It's on the hallway carpet.

I got paid in puke.

Lick it up, baby. Lick it up.

Monday morning,
you're history.

I'll tell everyone
about tonight.

Transfer to Washington,
transfer to Jefferson,

no one at Westerburg's
gonna let you play
their reindeer games.

Dreadful etiquette.
I apologize.

That's okay.

I saw the croquet set up
in the back.
You up for a match?

I thank you.

That was my first game
of strip croquet.

You're welcome.

It's a lot more interesting
than just flinging off
your clothes

and boning away
on a neighbor's swing set.

I don't know.
There's a lot to be said
for throwing off your... Ow!

What a night.

What a life.

They wanted to move me
into high school out of
the sixth grade

- because I was supposed to be
this big genius.
- Mmm-hmm.

Then we decided to chuck
the idea

because I'd have trouble
making friends,
blah, blah, blah.

Now, blah, blah, blah
is all I do.

I use my grand IQ
to decide what color
gloss to wear

and how to hit three keggers
before curfew.

Heather Chandler is one bitch
that deserves to die.

No, killing her won't
solve anything.

I say we just grow up,
be adults and die.

But before that...

I'd like to see
Heather Chandler
puke her guts out.

Trust me, she skips
the Saturday morning
trip to grandma's

even when she's not hung over.

We'll just concoct ourselves
a little hangover cure

that'll induce her to spew
red, white and blue, then.

What about, like,
milk and orange juice?

What's the up-chuck
factor on that?

I'm a no-rust-build-up
man, myself.

Don't be a dick.

That stuff will kill her.

Yeah.

I know, we can cook up
some soup and put
it in a Coke.

That's pretty sick, eh?

Now, should it be
chicken noodle
or bean with bacon?

Would you put a lid
on that stuff?

I say we go with
big blue here.

What are you talking about?

She would never drink anything
that looked like that, anyway.

Mmm.

So, we'll put it in this.

She won't be able to see
what she's drinking.

Let me get a cup, jerk.

Okay.

Milk and orange juice. Hmm...

Well, maybe we could, like,
cough up a phlegm globber
in it, or something.

Mmm.

- No?
- Nothing.

Oh, well.
Milk and orange juice
will do quite nicely.

Mmm. You're chicken.

You're not funny.

I'm sorry.

- Uh, Veronica?
- What?

Uh...

Never mind.
I'll, uh, carry the cup.

Morning, Heather.

Veronica and Jesse James.

Quelle surprise.

Hear about Veronica's
affection for regurgitation?

Heather, I think last night
we both said a lot of stuff
we didn't mean.

Did we?

How the hell did
you get in here?

Um... Veronica knew
you'd have a hangover,

so I whipped this up for you.

It's a family recipe.

What did you do,
put a phlegm globber in it,
or something?

I'm not going
to drink that piss.

I knew this stuff would be
too intense for her.

Intense.

Grow up.

You think I'll drink it
just because
you call me chicken?

Just give me the cup, jerk.

Corn nuts.

Oh, my God.

I can't believe it.

I just killed my best friend.

And your worst enemy.

Same difference.

Oh...

What are we going
to tell the cops?

"Fuck it if she can't take
a joke, Sarge"?

Cops.

I can't believe this
is my life.

Oh, my God.

I'm going to have to send
my SAT scores

to San Quentin
instead of Stanford.

All right,
just a little freaked, here.

At least you got
what you wanted, you know?

Got what I wanted?

It is one thing to want
somebody out of your life,

it is another thing to
serve them a wake-up cup
full of liquid drainer.

Oh, my God.

Yeah.

All right, we did a murder
and that's a crime,

but if this were like
a suicide thing, you know?

Like a suicide thing?

Yeah, yeah.

I mean, you can do
Heather's handwriting
as well as your own, right?

Right?

- Yeah.
- All right.

What the hell
do we write?

"You might think what
I've done is shocking."

Yeah.

"To me, though,
suicide is the natural answer

"to the myriad of problems
life has given me."

That's good,
but Heather would never
use the word "myriad."

This is the last thing
she'll ever write,

she's going to want to cash in
on as many 50-cent
words as possible.

Yeah, but she missed
myriad on the vocab test
two weeks ago.

That only proves
my point more.

The word is a badge
for her failures at school.

Oh. Okay,
you're probably right.

"People think just because
you're beautiful and popular,

"life is easy and fun."

- Yeah.
- Uh...

"No one understood
I had feelings too.

"I die knowing no one
knew the real me."

That's good.

Have you done this before?

Any other principal
would take the same position,

keep things business as usual.

Heather Chandler's
not your everyday suicide.
She was very popular.

Come on, Paul,
if I let these kids out
before lunch,

the switchboard would light up
like a Christmas tree.

I must say, I was impressed
to see that she made proper
use of the word myriad

in her suicide note.

I find it
profoundly disturbing

that we're told of
the tragic destruction
of youth

and all we can think
to talk about

is adequate mourning times
and misused vocabulary words.

Oh, Christ!

We must revel in this
revealing moment.

Look, I suggest that
we get everybody together,

both students and teachers,
in the cafeteria

and just talk and feel,

together.

Thank you, Ms. Fleming.
You call me when
the shuttle lands.

Now, is this Heather
the cheerleader?

That would be
Heather McNamara.

Damn. I'd be willing to go
half a day for a cheerleader.

God, it's unfair.
It's just so unfair.

We should get off
a whole week,
not just an hour.

Write the school board.

Watch it, Heather,
you might be
digesting food, there.

Yeah, where's your
urge to purge?

Fuck it.

HEATHER McNAMARA: Look...

Heather left behind
one of her Swatches.

She'd want you
to have it, Veronica.

She always said you couldn't
accessorize for shit.

Sorry to hear about
your friend.

I thought she was
your usual airhead bitch.

Guess I was wrong.

We all were.

HEATHER McNAMARA:
What a waste.

Oh, the humanity.

Veronica?

Veronica, what are you doing?

I'm just so thrilled

to finally have an example
of the profound sensitivity

of which a human animal
is capable.

That example
is Heather Chandler.

I have her note.

Ooh!

Now, I'm gonna
pass this note
around the class

so you can all feel its
pathetic beauty for yourself.

And while we do this,

I think it's a good
opportunity to share the

feelings that this suicide
has spurred in all of us.

Now, who would like to begin?

I heard it was really gnarly.

She sucked down a bowl
of multi-purpose deodorizing
disinfectant and then smash!

Now, Tracy,
let's not rehash
the coroner's report.

Let's talk emotions.

Um, Heather and I
used to go out

but she said I was boring.

But now I realize
I really wasn't boring,

it's just that she was
dissatisfied with her life.

That's very good, Peter.

Are we going to be
tested on this?

You know,
we were the same size,

so sometimes we could
borrow each other's clothes
and mix it up. It was fun.

I remember I won her
a rhino at the 4-H Club.

You're an asshole. Mute him.

You know, we liked
the same kind of clothes.

Heather, how many networks
did you run to?

It's just not going to be
the same here without her.

What are you talking about?
You hated her. She hated you.

Every English class
I looked forward
to seeing her.

Heather Chandler
is more popular than ever now.

- Scary stuff.
- Yeah.

Hey, son,
I didn't hear you come in.

Hey, Dad, how was work today?

It was miserable.

Some damn tribe
of withered old bitches

doesn't want us to terminate
that fleabag hotel.

All because Glenn Miller
and his band
once took a shit there.

Just like Kansas.
You remember fucking Kansas?

Yeah, that was the one
with the wheat, right?

Yeah. Save the Memorial
Oak Tree Society.

Showed those fucks.

Yeah. Thirty of those
4th of July fireworks
attached to the trunk.

Arraigned but acquitted.

Gosh, Pop,
I almost forgot to introduce
my girlfriend.

Oh. Veronica, this is my dad.

Dad, Veronica.

Hi.

Son, why don't you ask
your little friend to stay
for dinner?

I can't. My mom's making
my favorite meal tonight.

Spaghetti, lots of oregano.

How nice.

The last time I saw my mom
she was waving from a library
window in Texas.

Right, Dad?

Right...

Son.

Right.

Take a break, Veronica.
Sit down.

So, what was the first day
after Heather's suicide like?

I don't know,
it was okay, I guess.

Terrible thing.

So, will we get to meet
this dark horse
prom contender?

Maybe.

Goddamn, will somebody tell me
why I smoke these damn things?

Because you're an idiot.

Oh, yeah. That's it.

You two.

Great pate, but I'm gonna have
to motor if want to be ready
for that funeral.

I blame not Heather,

but rather a society

that tells its youth

that the answers can be found
in the MTV video games.

We must pray that
the other teenagers
of Sherwood, Ohio,

know the name
of that righteous dude

who can solve their problems.

It's Jesus Christ
and he's in the book.

Amen.

HEATHER McNAMARA:
Oh God, this is a tragic thing

and sometimes I have
a hard time dealing with it,
and stuff.

Please send Heather
to heaven, and all that.

Dear God,
please make sure
this never happens to me,

because I don't think I can
handle suicide.

Fast, early acceptance into an
Ivy League school and please,
let it be Harvard. Amen.

Jesus, God in heaven,
why'd you have to kill
such hot snatch?

It's a joke, man.
Jeez, people are so serious.

Hail Mary,
who aren't in heaven,

pray for all us sinners
so we don't get caught.

Another joke, man.

I prayed for
the death of Heather Chandler
many times.

And I felt bad every time
I did it but I kept
doing it anyway.

Now I know
you understood everything.

Praise Jesus. Hallelujah.

Hi. I'm sorry.

Technically, I did not kill
Heather Chandler, but, hey,
who am I trying to kid, right?

I just want my high school
to be a nice place.

Amen.

Did that sound bitchy?

Veronica, what are you
doing tonight?

I don't know. Mourning.
Maybe watch some TV. Why?

Well, Ram asked me out tonight

but he wants to
double with Kurt,

and Kurt doesn't have a date.

Heather, I have something
going with J.D.

Please, Veronica.
Put Billy the Kid
on hold tonight.

I'll be your best friend.

So we on tonight, man,
or what?

I don't know.

I still got to talk
to Heather, dude.

Weird funeral, huh?

That pudwapper just stepped
on my foot.

- Let's kick his ass.
- Cool off.

- We're seniors.
- Goddamn geek!

Ah. Well. Sit and spin.

That little prick.

Whoa!

You piece of shit fag.
You like to suck big dicks?

Cut it out.

Say, "I like to suck
big dicks."

Leave him alone, Ram.

Say it.

Say it!

Okay, okay.

You like to suck big dicks.
Ow!

I like to suck big dicks.

Mmm! Mmm!

I can't get enough of 'em.
Are you satisfied?

Don't worry.
Ram's been so sweet lately,
consoling me and stuff.

It'll be really very. Promise.

Okay. Just as long as
it's not going to be
one of those nights

where they get shitfaced
and take us to a pasture
to tip cows.

- Is it sleeping, dude?
- I think so, man.

Shh!

Come here.

Oh, shit. Cow tipping is the
fucking greatest! Punch it in.

Ow.

Shit. On the count
of three, guy.

One,

two...

- Three!

When I get that feeling,
I need sexual healing.

Yeah, right, asshole.

What is this shit?

Doing a favor for Heather.
Double date.

I tried to tell you at the
funeral but you rode off.

Another fucking Heather.

I'm sorry. I'm feeling a
little superior tonight.

Seven schools in seven states

and the only thing different
is my locker combination.

Our love is God.
Let's go get a Slushie.

I'm not belittling
the foodless fund, Peter,

it's just that we're
talking teen suicide here.

I mean, ask Allison.
The number one
song in America today

is Teenage Suicide
by Big Fun.

Jesus, man, Westerburg finally
got one of these things
and I'm not gonna blow it.

Great. So Heather gets
the front page

and I get crammed in by
the Taco Bell coupon.

Hi, guys. I came to
check up on this week's
lunchtime poll topic.

Hey, don't worry
about it, Veronica.
Sit down, huh?

That funeral yesterday
must have really been
rough, huh?

Oh, yeah. Yeah.

We were wondering
if you had any poems,
artwork that Heather did

that we can put in
the Heather Chandler
yearbook spread?

The what?

Well, take a look.

It's a two-page layout with
her suicide note right
up here in the corner.

It's more tasteful
than it sounds.

I don't know, Dennis,
this stuff leaves
a bad taste in my mouth.

Like last night, Veronica?

Excuse me? I don't get it.

Oh, you did last night.

Kurt told us of
your little date.

Yeah, and? I left him drunk
and flailing in cow shit.

Well, I don't know.
He was really detailed.

Shut up, Courtney.

No, don't shut up.
I'd like to know
exactly what I did.

Come on, Veronica.
I'll show you
the lunchtime poll topic.

What the fuck?

Okay, now I rarely listen to
Neanderthals like Kurt Kelly,

but he said that he and Ram
had a nice little sword fight
in your mouth last night.

You know what I mean? Hmm?

Ew!

That son of a bitch!

Hi, Kurt?

Hi, this is Veronica Sawyer.

Yeah, I didn't expect
to be calling either.
I guess my emotions took over.

I was wondering if
you wanted all those things

you've been saying
to really happen.

It's always been
a fantasy of mine
to have two guys at once.

Oh, sure, you can
write to Penthouse Forum.

Yeah, in the woods
behind the school.

At dawn.

Don't forget Ram.

I don't get the point
of me writing a suicide note

when we're just going to be
shooting them with blanks.

Well, we're not gonna be
using blanks this time.

You can't be serious.

I am.

Listen, my Bonnie and Clyde
days are over.

Wait a second, wait a second.
Do you take German?

French.

All right.
These are echt Luger bullets.

My grandfather snared
a shitload of
them back in WWII.

They're like tranquillizers,

only they break the surface
of the skin enough to
cause a little blood

but no real damage.

So it looks like the person's
been shot and killed

and really they're just
lying there unconscious
and bleeding?

Oh.

Right.

See, we shoot Kurt and Ram,
make it look like
they shot each other,

and by the time they
regain consciousness,

they'll be the laughing
stock of the whole school.

The note's the punch line.
How'd that turn out?

First tell me the similarity
is not incredible.

It's incredible similarity.

Okay.

"Ram and I died
the day we realized

"we could never
reveal our forbidden love

"to an uncaring and
un-understanding world.

"The joy we shared
in each other's arms

"was greater
than any touchdown,

"yet we were
forced to live the lie

"of sexist, beer-guzzling,
jock assholes."

That's perfect.

Let's take a look at some
of the homosexual artifacts

I dug up to
plant at the scene.

All right.
Got an issue of Stud Puppy.

That's great!

A candy dish,
a Joan Crawford postcard.

Good.

Let's see... Some mascara.

All right, now, here's the one
perfecto thing I picked up.

Mineral water.

Oh, come on, a lot of people
drink mineral water.
It's come a long way.

Yeah, but this is Ohio.

I mean, if you don't have
a brewskie in your hand,

you might as well be
wearing a dress.

Oh, you're so smart.

Hi, Veronica.

Hi, guys.

Glad you could make it.

So should I just
whip it out, or...

Well, I've made a circle
on each side of the clearing.

Ram, you come over here.

Kurt.

When you get
to the circle, strip.

What about you?

I was kind of hoping you could
rip my clothes off me, sport.

Oh.

Good idea.

Okay. Count of three, guys.

One,

two...

- Three!

Did you miss him completely?

Yeah, but don't worry.
It was worth it
just to see the look...

Don't move. I'll get him back.

Ha-ha!

Now!

Hey, I heard it that time.

- What?
- Another gunshot
from the woods.

Oh, shit. Let's roll!

Kurt doesn't look too good.

Just remember
he's left-handed.

Keep going
until you hit the clearing.

Come on.

Mother of shit!

Call in.

Hey, I heard
something out there.

I'm checking it out.

Yeah, this is Officer McCord.
I've got two dead
bodies in the woods

behind Westerburg High.

Whoa, whoa! Oh!

McCORD ON RADIO: Milner,
can you hear me?
What's going down?

Yeah, yeah. I think
what I heard back there was
just a bunny rabbit.

All I've got here is
a couple of kids making out
in a station wagon.

Should I pry 'em apart?

No, no, forget it.
I got all the answers
back here.

Hey...

Are they naked?

Yeah, so what's the deal?

Suicide. Double suicide.
They shot each other.

Hey, that's Kurt Kelly.

Yeah, and the
linebacker, Ram Sweeney.

My God, suicide. Why?

Does this
answer your question?

Oh, man. They were fags.

Listen up.
"We realized we could never
reveal our forbidden love

"to an uncaring
and un-understanding world."

Jesus H. Christ!

The quarterback
buggering the linebacker.

What a waste.

Oh, the humanity.

Oh.

There.

So we killed them, didn't we?

Yeah. Of course.

Echt Luger bullets.
I'm such an idiot!

Look, you believed it
because you
wanted to believe it.

Your true feelings
were too gross and
icky for you to face.

I did not want them dead.

You did too.

- I did not.
- Did too.

- I did not!
- Did too.

- Did not!
- Did too!

Did not! Did not! Did not!

Shut up!
I did not want them dead.

Come on, you did.
You're just...

♪ Mary had a little lamb,
little lamb, little lamb... ♪

Young love!

Did you hear? School's
canceled today because Kurt
and Ram killed themselves

in a repressed
homosexual suicide pact!

No way.

God!

The football season
is over, Veronica.

Kurt and Ram had nothing
to offer the school

but date rapes and AIDS jokes.

Sure.

Can we make an ice run
before the funeral?

If there's any way you
can hear me, Kurt, buddy,

I don't care that
you really were some pansy.

You're my own flesh and blood

and you made me proud.

My son's a homosexual
and I love him.

I love my dead, gay son.

How do you think
he'd react to a son

that had a limp
wrist with a pulse?

Dear Diary,
my teen angst bullshit
has a body count.

The most popular people
in school are dead.

Everybody's sad,
but it's a weird kind of sad.

Suicide gave Heather depth,
Kurt a soul, Ram a brain.

I don't know
what it's given me

but I've got no control
over myself when I'm with J.D.

Are we going to
prom or to hell?

Now, it seems we were in
a similar position on Monday

when I thoughtfully suggested
we get everybody together

for an unadulterated
emotional outpouring, but no.

You took this
as an opportunity
to play yet another round

of "let's laugh
at the hippie."

Pauline...

Shut up, Paul.

Now, I've seen
a lot of bullshit.

Angel dust, switchblades,

sexually perverse
photography exhibits
involving tennis rackets.

But this suicide thing...

I guess that's more on
Pauline's wavelength.

Well, we're just going
to write off today

and on Friday she
can hold her little
love-in or whatever.

Whatever.

Attention!

May I have your attention,
please?

This school has been
torn apart by tragedy.

I'm here today to
fuse it back again
through togetherness.

I want everyone
to clasp hands.

We need to
connect this cafeteria
into one mighty circuit!

Excuse me, please.

Hey, look!
Here comes the TV crew!

Lock your paws!

Miss Fleming,
we're ready when you are.

Hi, there.

Come on. Let's go. Here.

This will be on TV.
Let's show them how you feel!

Looks like Miss Phlegm's
on another one
of her crusades.

With the usual success,
of course.

Come on, freshmen,
let's get up!
On your feet!

Hi, what's your name?

Hi. I'm Heather Duke.

Is this as good for
you as it is for me?

Those fish sticks can wait.
Let's go.

Come on, kids!

The whole world is watching!

Put peer pressure out
to pasture!

Show them that you care!

Greetings and salutations.

I'm going to need a VHS
copy of all this by Monday
for my Princeton application.

Uh-huh.

You can
beat this, don't let suicide
get you down!

That thing
this afternoon,

I'm so angry,
it was chaos, fucking chaos.

What are you
talking about, huh?

I mean, today was great.
Chaos was great.

Chaos is what killed the
dinosaurs, darling.

Face it, our way is the way.

I mean, we scare people
into not being assholes.

Our way is not "our way."

Oh, yeah? Tell that to
the judge, all right?

Tell it to Kurt Kelly.
Oh, God, Veronica...

I'm telling it to you.

God, you can be so immature.

Oh! You kids are making
too much damn noise.

We beat the bitches.

Beautiful. The Beaver's home.

Judge told them to
slurp shit and die.

I put a Norwegian
in the boiler room.

Masterful.

And then when that blew,

it set off a pack of
thermals I stuck upstairs.

You know, some days
it's great to be alive.

Stick it to those goddamn...

Do you like your father?

Never given
the matter much thought.

Liked my mother.

They said her
death was an accident

but she knew
what she was doing.

She walked into
the building two minutes

before my dad
blew the place up.

She waved at me and then...

Boom.

Dudes,
if I get one more request
for that Big Fun song,

I'm gonna commit suicide.

Playing our song.

Here it is.
Teenage Suicide [Don't Do It].

That's it. We're breaking up.

What? You can't bring them
back, you must know that.

I am not trying to
bring anybody back
except maybe myself.

No!

And to think there was
a time when I actually
thought you were cool!

Man, if you can't deal with
me now, then just stay home
and shoot your TV,

blow up a couple
toasters or something.

Just don't come to school
and don't mess with me.

You'll be back.

Me and Martha Dumptruck?

Where did you get this?

Oh, I just had
the nicest little chat
with Ms. Dumptruck.

Got along famously.

It's kind of scary how
everybody's got
a little story to tell.

Want to see
the canoeing shots?

What is this? Blackmail?

I'll give you
a week's lunch money.

I don't want your money.
I want your strength.

Westerburg does not need
mushy togetherness,

it needs a strong leader.

Heather Chandler
was that leader, but...

But she couldn't handle it.

I think you can.

Moby Dick is dunked.

The white whale drank some
bad plankton and splashed
through a coffee table,

and now it's your turn
to take the helm.

What about the photographs?

Oh, don't worry.
I'll ask you to do me a favor

and it'll be one you'll enjoy.

And you'll get the negatives
and everything back then.

But in the meantime, strength.

Here's a little gift...

From Heather to Heather.

- Guess who.
- Heather?

- Hello?
- Hello, Betty?
This is Veronica.

I don't believe it,
I'm winning!

Don't you start
getting cocky on me now, girl.

I really missed you.

I know I'm not as exciting as
your other friends.

That is bullshit.

Shoot.

Did you know
I'm still a virgin?

Okay, I French-kissed
Al Springer once.

It was a total disaster.

Shoot the ball.

You know, Betty, your
daydreams are a lot better
than my realities, believe me.

But now, prepare to die.

Ronnie!

Well you're not just gonna
go for those two shots.

I mean, go ahead,
knock me out.
It's the only way to win.

It's not my style.

Nice guys finish last,
I should know.

Bravo.

Bravo.

Listen, I got to get home, okay?

- Okay.
- Thanks.

Bye, Betty.

Bye.

Betty, leaving so soon?

I'm red.

The Westerburg
suicides were tough
on all of us,

but we shared the pain
of losing three
very popular students.

I came into the cafeteria,
asked them to hold hands...

Hey, isn't that that flake
we met at the open house?

In a burst of cleansing
synchronicity,

TV cameras happened
onto our path
and captured...

Cleansing synchronicity?

...emotional outpouring
of emotion.

Outpouring
of emotion?

Ha! Look!
There's Heather.

There's Heather.
Where are you, Veronica?

Before a teenager decides
to kill himself,

there are certain facts
that he should know.

After all, this is a decision
that affects all of us,

and there's only one chance
to get it right.

Getting some supervision...

Turn that back on.

Can't you see these little
programs are eating suicide up
with a spoon?

They're making it sound like
it's a cool thing to do.

Are you trying to tell me
it is not a time for troubled
youth? Stand up straight.

All we want is to be
treated like human beings,

not to be experimented on
like guinea pigs or
patronized like bunny rabbits.

I don't patronize
bunny rabbits.

Treated like human beings?

Is that what you said,
Little Miss
Voice-of-a-generation?

Just how do you think adults
act with other adults?

You think it's all just
a game of doubles tennis?

When teenagers complain that
they want to be treated
like human beings,

it's usually because they
are being treated like
human beings.

Yeah, well, I guess I picked
the wrong time
to be a human being.

Well, you'll live.

Want some pate?

Hi, everybody. Door was open.

Veronica, have you heard?

We were doing Chinese
at the food fair

when it comes over the radio
that Martha Dumptruck
tried to buy the farm.

She belly-flopped
in front of a car
wearing a suicide note.

Is she dead?

No. That's the punch line.
She's alive and
in stable condition.

Just another case of a geek
trying to imitate the popular
people of the school

and failing miserably.

Is that pate?

-I said I was sorry.
- You were out of control.

I mean, Heather and Kurt
were a shock,
but Martha Dumptruck?

Get crucial.
She dialed suicide hotlines
in her diapers.

You're not funny.

Look, Martha couldn't take
the heat, so she got
out of the kitchen.

Just think what a better place
this world would be if every
nimrod followed her cue.

Just shut up. Hot Probs is on.

Oh, shit. Yeah.

I mean, like, Skipper's
okay, but still, sometimes
I feel like I'm on that island

and Gilligan can just be so
stupid sometimes...

Just remember, you know,
If it wasn't for the courage
of the fearless crew,

the Minnow would be lost,
and you are too.

- Next call.
- That sounded like a good one.

Hey, you've got
the dog-catcher.

My name is Heather.
No, it's not Heather.

No, it...

It's Madonna. Geez.
No, not that.

Hey, babe, I need a name.

My name is Tweety.

"Tweety?"

Ooh, tweet!

God has cursed me, I think.

The last guy I had sex with
killed himself the next day.

I'm failing math.

My whole life is a mess.

I was supposed to be captain
of the cheerleading team...

Oh man, she knows we listen
to this show.

Holy shit! We'll crucify her.

My parents are divorced
and stuff...

Heather told everyone
about Heather.

Yes, dear Diary,
I've cut off
Heather Chandler's head

and Heather Duke's head
has sprouted back in its place

like some mythological thing

my eighth-grade boyfriend
would have known about.

Heather's even doing
the old note trick.

I've seen J.D.'s way.

I've seen
Miss Pauline Fleming's way,

and nothing has changed.

I guess that's Heather's way.

And, Jesus, what about J.D.?

I can't get him
out of my head.

Wait. Where's Heather going?

Where's Heather going?

She's going to cry.

Fucking child protector caps.

Now where
is she going?

Heather!

What are you trying to do?
Kill me?

What are you trying to do?
Sleep?

Suicide is a private thing.

Heather, you're throwing
your life away

to become a statistic
in the US- fucking- A Today.

Now that is about the least
private thing I can think of.

What about Heather
and Kurt and Ram?

If everyone jumped
off a bridge, would you?

Probably.

Hey now, if you were happy
every day of your life,

you wouldn't be a human being,
you'd be a game show host.

What do you say we knock
off early, buy some shoes,
something lame like that?

Okay.

So it's come to this.

Heather Chandler did polls,

I want you to do a petition,
as a favor, as the favor.

You've heard of the group
"Big Fun," right?

That's right.
Teenage Suicide
.

Right. Some teenybopper rag
says that they want to
play a prom.

Now, it could be Westerburg's
if we get everybody's
John Hancock.

I'll get right on it, coach.

Oh. Little gift for you.
I won't be needing it.

Heather?

Veronica.

Color me stoked, girl.

I've gotten everyone
to sign this petition,

even the ones who think
Big Fun are tuneless Eurofags.

People love me.

You know,
you haven't signed yet.

People love you
but I know you.

Jennifer Forbes told me
the petition she signed

was to put a hot tub in
the cafeteria
and Doug Hilton said...

Some people need
different kinds of convincing
than others.

Look, just sign the petition, okay?

Don't talk to me like that, okay?

Look, it was J.D.'s idea.

He made out the signature
sheet and everything,
so why don't you just sign it?

No.

Jealous much?

Heather, why can't you
just be a friend?

Why are you such a megabitch?

Because I can be.

Veronica, why are you
pulling my dick?

Do you think...
I mean, do you really think

if Betty Finn's
fairy godmother made her cool,

she would still hang out
with her dweebette friends?

No way, Veronica.

Uh-uh.

Want to go out tonight?

Catch a movie,
some miniature golf?

I was thinking more along
the lines of slitting
Heather Duke's wrists open,

making it look like a suicide.

Now you're talking.
I could be up for that.

I've already started
underlining
meaningful passages

in her copy of Moby Dick,
if you know what I mean.

I knew you'd
be back, Veronica.

I knew it.
I was positive. I was sure.

Ooh.

It's over, J.D. Over.

Grow up!

I don't get it.

I mean, you were wrong.
I was right.

Strength, damn it!

- Come on, come back!

Yes?

Your friend
Jason Dean stopped by.

He seemed very
concerned about you.

He said that he thought
you might try
to kill yourself.

You have been
depressed lately.

Oh, he left this for you.

Oh, my God.

He said that we should
keep you away from
sharp objects,

closed garage doors,
chemical substances.

- Prescription drugs.
- Prescription drugs.

"To neither love nor
reverence wilt thou be kind,

"and even for hate
thou canst but kill,

"and all are killed."

I like it.

It's got that

"what-a-cruel-world-so-let's-
toss-ourselves-in-the-abyss"

type of ambiance, huh?

Come on. It's Heather's copy
of Moby Dick.

Why don't you give it a try?
Underline something.

Get off of my bed,
you fucking psycho!

You think you're a rebel?
Do you actually think
you're a rebel?

You're not a rebel.
You're fucking psychotic.

You say "tom-ay-to,"
I say "tom-ah-to."

Hold it.
"Eskimo." Look at that.

That's one word. I love it!

I usually go for the whole
sentence myself,
but this is perfecto.

Eskimo, you know,
it's so mysterious.

Eskimo.

Come on.

J.D., you are not even
listening to me.

Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag!

That knife is filthy.

What do you think I'm going
to do with it,
take out her tonsils?

Excuse me, I think I know
Heather a little bit better
than you do.

If she was going
to slit her wrists,
the knife would be spotless.

All right, how's this?
Can you see your fucking
reflection in the thing?

Tomorrow someone else
is just gonna move
into her place.

That person could be me.

Ha! There's only one of us
who knows how to do
Heather's handwriting.

And if you think I'm gonna
write another suicide note,
you're wrong.

You don't get it, do you?
Society nods its head

at any horror the
American teenager can think
to bring upon itself.

Nobody's going to care about
exact handwriting.
I mean, look.

Look.

Life sucks.

It's perfecto.

Jesus, I've got a
meaningfully marked-up
Moby Dick.

What else does
a suicide need, huh?

Now, if you'll excuse me.

No!

Open the door!

Eskimo.

Heather Duke underlined
a lot of things
in this copy of Moby Dick,

but I believe
the word "Eskimo,"

underlined all by itself,

is the key to understanding
Heather's pain.

On the surface, Heather Duke
was the vivacious young lady

we all knew her to be.

But her soul
was in Antarctica,

freezing with the knowledge
of the way fellow teenagers
can be cruel,

the way that parents
can be unresponsive.

And as she writes
so eloquently
in her suicide note,

the way that life can suck.

We'll all miss Sherwood's
little Eskimo.

Let's just hope she's
rubbing noses with Jesus.

Is this turnout weak or what?

I had at least 70 more
people at my funeral.

Heather?

Oh, God, Veronica,

my afterlife is so boring.

If I have to sing Kumbaya
one more time...

What are you doing here?

I made your favorite...

Spaghetti.

Lots of oregano.

Dinner!

Veronica! Dinner!

Dear Diary,
last entry.

No one can stop J.D.

Not the FBI, the CIA
or the PTA.

He once told me that
the extreme always
makes an impression.

Well, now it's my turn.

Let's see how the son of
a bitch reacts to a suicide
he didn't perform himself.

I can't believe you did it.

I was teasing.

I loved you.

Sure, I was coming up here
to kill you.

First I was going to try
and get you back
with my amazing petition.

It's a shame you can't see
what our fellow students
really signed.

All right, listen.

"We students of Westerburg
High will die. Today.

"Our burning bodies
will be the ultimate protest

"to a society that
degrades us.

"Fuck you all."

It's not very subtle,
but neither is blowing up
a whole school, now, is it?

Talk about your suicide
pacts, huh?

When our school
blows up tomorrow,

it's going to be the kind of
thing to infect a generation!

I mean, it's going to be
a Woodstock for the '80s.

Damn it, Veronica.

We could have toasted
marshmallows together.

What does she want?
A written invitation?

Veronica! Dinner!

Shit.

Veronica, I...

Oh,
I should have let you take
that job at the mall.

It was just that I was afraid
of you coming home
late at night and I...

Hey, Mom, why so tense?

Hey, Pop, I need
some help with my homework.

Uh, not right now, tiger.
I'm a little busy.

Veronica, J.D. told me
you committed suicide
last night.

Where is he? Where's J.D.?

We have to talk.

Whether to kill yourself
or not is the most important
decisions a teenager can make.

Get a job.

Rodney, where's
everybody going?

It's Friday.

Shit, another damn
pep assembly.

Yeah. You know, these things
can get pretty artificial,

but, you know, at least
you get out of class.

Rodney, what's underneath
the gym?

The boiler room.

May I see your hall pass?

I knew that loose
was too noose.

I mean noose too loose.

Goddamn you, woman.

Like father, like son.

A serious-as-fuck bomb in the
boiler room to set off a pack
of thermals upstairs.

Okay, let's start by putting
the bomb down on the ground.

I knew that.

Okay, put your hands
on your head.

You didn't say, "Simon says."

Let's go!

Let's go, Rottweilers,
let's go!

W-E-S!

T-E-R!

T-E-R!

B-U-R!

B-U-R!

- G!
-G!

What does it spell?

Westerburg!

Again!

Westerburg!

Westerburg!

Lean to the left,
lean to the right!

Stand up, sit down,
fight, fight, fight!

Stop!

You think just because
you started this thing
you can end it?

I'll kill you,
I'll fucking kill you,
I swear to God.

How do I turn off the goddamn
bomb, asshole?

Fuck you!

Shit!

It's all over, J.D.
Help me stop it.

You want to clean
the slate as much as I do.

All right, so maybe
I am killing everyone
in the school.

Because nobody loves me.

Let's face it, all right?
The only place different
social types

can genuinely get along
with each other is in heaven.

Which button do I press
to turn it off?

Try the red one, all right?

Seriously. People are going
to look at the ashes of
Westerburg and say,

"Now, there is a school
that self-destructed,

"not because society didn't
care but because the
school was society!"

It's pretty deep, huh?

Which red button?

Press the middle
button to turn it off.

If that's what you
really want.

You know what I want, babe?

What?

Cool guys like you
out of my life.

Color me impressed.

You, uh...
You really fucked me up
pretty bad, Veronica.

You...

You got power.

Power I didn't think you had.

The slate is clean.

Pretend I did blow
up the school.

All the schools.

Now that you're dead,

what are you going to do
with your life?

Veronica. You look like hell.

Yeah? I just got back.

Veronica, what are you doing?

Heather, my love,

there's a new sheriff in town.

Hey, Martha!

My date for the prom
kind of flaked out on me.

I was wondering,
if you weren't doing
anything that night,

maybe we could rent
some new releases,
pop some popcorn.

I'd like that.

Yeah. So would I.