This Boy's Life Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the This Boy's Life script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Robert De Niro and Leonardo DiCaprio movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of This Boy's Life. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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This Boy's Life Script


  

 

                   

It was 1957 and we're driving

from Florida to Utah.



 

                   

After my mother was beaten

by her boyfriend...



 

                   

... we hightailed it

for the uranium fields.



 

                   

We were gonna change our luck...



 

                   

... which hadn't been so hot since

our family broke up five years ago.



 

                   

I spy with my little eye

something that begins with C.



 

                   

- Cactus. Cactus.

- Nope.



 

                   

- No?

- It's upwards.



 

                   

- Up. Up in the...

- Clouds. Clouds.



  

                   

Okay, your turn.



  

                   

I was caught up in my mother's freedom,

her delight in her freedom.



  

                   

She was going to get rich on uranium

and I was going to help her.



  

                   

- How does this thing work, anyway?

- Well, I think it causes like a...



  

                   

It makes a black light that causes

uranium traces to glow.



  

                   

We can walk along the street

and find uranium?



  

                   

Well, it was everywhere

in Moab, they say.



  

                   

We were too late in Moab.



  

                   

That guy said nobody had found

uranium in Salt Lake City.



  

                   

That means we'll have

the place to ourselves, huh?



  

                   

- Yeah.

- This could be a big break for us.



  

                   

If this works out,

just think about it.



  

                   

We could get a real house

and we could get rid of this damn Nash.



  

                   

We'd have no more money worries.



  

                   

It'd be just like

heaven on a June day.



  

                   

Heaven on a June day.



  

                   

Damn it.



  

                   

If I had one wish right now, only one

wish, you know what it would be?



  

                   

I'd like to burn this

goddamn Nash to a crisp.



  

                   

I'm serious. I hate it.



  

                   

I hate the man who invented it.

I hate the factory who produced it.



  

                   

Almost makes me want to see Roy.



  

                   

He was the only one who could

make it stop overheating.



  

                   

My God, he was boring.

Boring and mean.



  

                   

You sure got crappy

taste in boyfriends.



  

                   

Come on, let's go get

rich in Salt Lake.



  

                   

Wait a minute.

You're pulling my leg, right?



  

                   

No. We came here to look for uranium.



  

                   

If you're looking for uranium,

why didn't you go to Moab?



  

                   

We went there,

but everybody beat us.



  

                   

So you came here just

on the chance you'd find uranium?



  

                   

Yeah.



  

                   

Do you mind me saying something

that might sound rude?



  

                   

Lady, you got more courage

than you got common sense.



  

                   

- So, what'd the man say?

- Don't ask.



  

                   

My mom had her own way of solving

problems. She left them behind.



  

                   

That's what she

did with the Nash, just left it.



  

                   

Things are going to start looking up.

I can feel it.



  

                   

The good times are coming.



  

                   

My mom had high hopes,

especially for me.



  

                   

I'd been giving her no end

of grief since she left Dad.



  

                   

I decided I was gonna do better.

I'd have straight- arrow friends.



  

                   

I was gonna get all A 's in school

and keep my nose clean.



  

                   

I promised it and meant it.



  

                   

We give new boys

the benefit of the doubt.



  

                   

This is the second time

you've been in front of me.



  

                   

I think you'd better give your mother

a call, tell her to come down here.



  

                   

She works.



  

                   

She's working.



  

                   

- It wasn't me who broke their window.

- Please.



  

                   

- Believe them instead of me.

- Lf you care for me, be quiet.



  

                   

If you'd cared anything about me,

you would've stayed married to Dad.



  

                   

I didn't really mean that.



  

                   

I knew it wasn't true.



  

                   

My father went his own way

before they called it quits...



  

                   

... and took my older brother,

Gregory, with him.



  

                   

Sometimes I had to blame somebody,

and she was the only one there.



  

                   

- What time is it?

-   almost.



  

                   

Why didn't you wake me?



  

                   

I started dinner. The potatoes are

frying and I'm heating up hot dogs.



  

                   

- I'm sorry.

- I know you are.



  

                   

I know your father doesn't call

and your brother doesn't write...



  

                   

...but you know it's not my fault.

- I know.



  

                   

Okay.



  

                   

Hello?



  

                   

Hello, Roy.



  

                   

A Winchester! Thanks.



  

                   

I found me a room. But it's clear

the hell and gone across town.



  

                   

And I think I got a job lined up doing

tune-ups at a Texaco station.



  

                   

So how you like it at Winstead's?



  

                   

- How do you know where I work, Roy?

- I've been here almost a week.



  

                   

And you've been following me

around for a week?



  

                   

How did you find me?



  

                   

You like that rifle, Toby?



  

                   

It's the best present ever. I love it.

I'll go pretend I'm shooting.



  

                   

Don't point it at anybody

or I won't teach you to shoot.



  

                   

- It's not loaded.

- You heard me. Anything or anybody.



  

                   

- It's got no bullets.

- Don't make me say it again.



  

                   

Fine. I'll just go point it

at the sky then.



  

                   

Don't.



  

                   

Roy, don't!



  

                   

Don't, Roy. Toby's still awake.



  

                   

You are one sweet thing, baby.



  

                   

It's just the sight of you

makes my dick hard.



  

                   

Don't, Roy.



  

                   

Don't, now.



  

                   

He's not going to hear anything!



  

                   

Look, I'm...



  

                   

Sorry, baby. I'm sorry.



  

                   

Come on, you know I didn't mean that.



   

                   

I'm just so glad to see you.



   

                   

Most afternoons,

I'd wander around in a trance.



   

                   

Sometimes I'd go downtown,

stare at the merchandise.



   

                   

Maybe I'd shoplift. Maybe not.



   

                   

I used to imagine I saw my father

coming toward me.



   

                   

I'd wait for him to recognize me.



   

                   

I knew it wasn't him. He lived

back East, married to a rich woman.



   

                   

His nickname was Duke

and that's how I thought of him...



   

                   

... as a duke living in a castle

far away.



   

                   

A few minutes later,

I'd pick someone else.



   

                   

- I'm home.

- Hi, honey.



   

                   

- We going someplace?

- We sure are.



   

                   

- Where?

- I don't know. Any ideas?



   

                   

- Phoenix.

- Good. I was thinking Phoenix.



   

                   

Or Seattle. Plenty of opportunities

in both places.



   

                   

What about your fabulous boyfriend?

The fabulous, boring Roy.



   

                   

- Is he coming too?

- God, I hope not.



   

                   

I looked out the window at work today,

he was across the street watching.



   

                   

- So uncool.

- You didn't think so last night.



   

                   

"I just love my new rifle, Roy!

It's the bestest present I ever had."



   

                   

Shut up.



   

                   

There.



   

                   

Now? We're leaving now?



   

                   

- What about the food?

- Leave it.



   

                   

- Even the canned stuff?

- Are you coming or staying?



   

                   

Ask him when the next one

to Phoenix is.



   

                   

- When's the next bus to Phoenix?

- Tomorrow morning.   :  .



   

                   

- How about Seattle?

- Yeah, what about Seattle?



   

                   

Leaves in, what, three...

No, two minutes.



   

                   

- Is this the bus to Seattle?

- Yes, it is.



   

                   

Hurry. Come on.

Seattle, here we go!



   

                   

I always had a good head for figures.



   

                   

If I got a CPA license, I bet we could

make a real go of it in Seattle.



   

                   

I know what.

I'll advertise for roommates.



   

                   

- Hey, Ter.

- Hey, Jack.



   

                   

What did your mom say

about skipping school?



   

                   

Who listens?



   

                   

Did you go to Wanda's last night?



   

                   

You make out?



   

                   

Make out good?



   

                   

How good?



   

                   

Fucked her till her nose bled.



   

                   

Sure you did.



   

                   

Hey, Jack. Terry.



   

                   

Oh, look! It's Elvis, Elvis and Elvis.



   

                   

Does your face hurt?

Because it's killing me.



   

                   

Silver.



   

                   

- Anybody here?

- Help! Help!



   

                   

Help! I'm in here!



   

                   

Oh, well. Lois, baby, come here. I got

six hot inches just waiting for you.



   

                   

- Yeah, you wish.

- Oh, Lois. I want you so bad!



   

                   

Come on,

you make my dick hard, baby!



   

                   

Come on, baby. I'll do better

than Superman. Just give me a chance.



   

                   

How did you find me?



   

                   

Oh, Lois. Daddy-o's going to make you

happy-o. Tie them ropes around me.



   

                   

You couldn't even get it up, Silver.



   

                   

We had to talk dirty for a while.

It was a formality...



   

                   

... like crossing yourself with holy

water when you went into a church.



   

                   

After that, we shut up

and watched the show.



   

                   

We softened. We surrendered. We watched

Superman have dumb adventures...



   

                   

... with dorky plots

and we didn't laugh at them.



   

                   

- It looks better with the bow in back.

- He'll love it.



   

                   

You say he's getting serious already?



   

                   

I think so. He keeps talking

to me about marriage.



   

                   

- He's dying to meet Toby.

- Three dates. You got him.



   

                   

- I'm not sure I want him.

- Don't want who?



   

                   

It's the tough guy

who can't be bothered to go to school.



   

                   

Don't want who?



   

                   

Dwight. Remember?

I told you about him.



   

                   

Please, use a glass.



   

                   

He's that guy that comes

from the boondocks? The mechanic?



   

                   

Dwight. What a stupid name.



   

                   

Dwight.



   

                   

- Caroline.

- Hello?



   

                   

Hi.



   

                   

- The door was open.

- Behave.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Introduce you to everybody.

I'll take your hat.



   

                   

- This is Marian.

- Marian.



   

                   

- And Kathy.

- Kathy.



   

                   

And this is my son.



   

                   

- So you're Toby?

- No.



   

                   

- You're not Toby?

- No.



   

                   

He wants to be called Jack. Silly,

but he read those Jack London books.



   

                   

I'll call him anything he wants. People

can call me anything they want...



   

                   

...as long as they don't call me

late for supper.



   

                   

- A cup of coffee before we go?

- I could stand a cup of java, yeah.



   

                   

- Have a seat.

- Over here?



   

                   

- So, Jack, do you like school?

- No.



   

                   

- You don't like school?

- No.



   

                   

- That's the way it is with kids today.

- He might like it if he ever went.



   

                   

Have another cookie.

Keep your strength up.



   

                   

My son's decided to try to drive me

to an early grave. Truly.



   

                   

Straighten up

and be polite now, honey.



   

                   

- Who made this?

- I did.



   

                   

Well, all I can say is, you people

are pretty lucky...



   

                   

...to live in a house

with a cup of coffee like this.



   

                   

Wait.



   

                   

- Thank you.

- You're welcome.



   

                   

Just a little trick I learned

in the Navy.



   

                   

So, Jack, I hear you're invited up

to Dwight's next week for Thanksgiving.



   

                   

You'll love it. Great air, great water.

And for scenery, just step outside...



   

                   

...and open your eyes.



   

                   

And there's a turkey shoot

Thanksgiving Day. I signed you up.



   

                   

- Really? Can I bring my Winchester?

- Sure.



   

                   

- I'll get that turkey.

- You might.



   

                   

Look, it can sit up and talk

just like a normal human being.



   

                   

Come on, Dwight.

We're going to be late.



   

                   

Thank you. Thank you.



   

                   

Here's your hat.

Not too much television now.



   

                   

Jack. Ladies.



   

                   

I love a man who knows how to dress.



   

                   

- He's so appealing.

- What a dope.



   

                   

Okay, come on.



   

                   

- I'll make a muslin for you.

- You will?



   

                   

Drag a lot of dirt up the aisle

with a train, you know.



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

Allow me.



   

                   

There you go. Just a little trick

I learned in the Navy.



   

                   

- He wasn't that bad.

- Let me try this.



   

                   

Who made this? Did you make this?



   

                   

I'd love to live in a house

with a cup of java like that.



   

                   

You do.



   

                   

- You need a light?

- Yes.



   

                   

There you go. Kids today, I tell you.



   

                   

- Are you through?

- I do believe I am through.



   

                   

- Be polite to Dwight this weekend.

- Okay.



   

                   

- I mean it.

- I said, okay, didn't I?



   

                   

He's gone to a lot of trouble.



   

                   

And you never know, I mean,

Concrete might be fun.



   

                   

Concrete, my favorite town.



   

                   

- Welcome to beautiful Concrete.

- Please stop that.



   

                   

Stop what?



   

                   

Please try to be nice, okay?



   

                   

- All right.

- Thank you.



   

                   

The air is like wine up at my place.



   

                   

I wouldn't live anywhere else.

That's the God's honest truth.



   

                   

There's good schools, honest people

and the finest fishing in the world.



   

                   

There's hunting too. I don't flatter

myself, but I'm a whiz with a rifle...



   

                   

...and Concrete allows me

to prove that.



   

                   

Dwight kept babbling on

about the virtues of Concrete...



   

                   

... but all I could think about

was shooting that turkey.



   

                   

Here we are. Welcome to Concrete,

my home sweet home.



   

                   

Some of the finest people in the whole

state of Washington. That's no lie.



   

                   

Lots of churches too.

Lots of churches.



   

                   

A neighbor says, "Looking for

nice churches, go to Concrete.



   

                   

Looking for sin, go to hell."



   

                   

I think that's funny, don't you? Jack?



   

                   

Toby? Jack, that is. Jack?



   

                   

Kids, this is my friend Caroline Wolff

and her boy, Jack.



   

                   

- Hi, I'm Norma.

- Hi.



   

                   

- Nice to meet you.

- Nice to meet you.



   

                   

Skipper, Norma, and my baby, Pearl.



   

                   

- Hello.

- Hi.



   

                   

- Hello, Pearl.

- Hi.



   

                   

- Let's go in, look at the house.

- Sure.



   

                   

This is the house.



   

                   

This is the living room.



   

                   

And over here

is the dining room and piano.



   

                   

And this is the kitchen, over here.



   

                   

I plan on getting all new fixtures,

and that stuff will all be taken out.



   

                   

It'll be much bigger and nicer.



   

                   

And up here are the three bedrooms

and the bath.



   

                   

Plenty of room.



   

                   

And this is...



   

                   

This is a kind of a lounging area.



   

                   

You know, just in case you want to...



   

                   

...Iounge.



   

                   

- Over there is where I work. Joe.

- Dwight.



   

                   

- How about you kids? You like it here?

- It's fine.



   

                   

- Hi, John.

- Hi.



   

                   

- It's a little isolated.

- It's not that isolated.



   

                   

It's not that isolated.

Pretty isolated, though.



   

                   

There's plenty to do

if you'd take the initiative.



   

                   

When I was young, we didn't have TV.

We used our imagination.



   

                   

We read the classics, played musical

instruments. A bored kid is a lazy kid.



   

                   

- What musical instrument do you play?

- Sax. Tenor sax.



   

                   

- Let me do that.

- Thank you.



   

                   

- Thank you.

- You're quite welcome.



   

                   

- What about the schools? How are they?

- There isn't one. We go to Chinook.



   

                   

- Chinook High.

- A few miles downriver.



   

                   

- Forty miles.

- Come on, it's not that far.



   

                   

I clocked it. It's    miles.



   

                   

- Come on, just stow it. Stow it.

- It is.



   

                   

You'd bellyache if the school

was in your backyard.



   

                   

Now just shut your goddamn pie-hole!



   

                   

So how big is this turkey going to be?



   

                   

- "Turkey shoot" is a figure of speech.

- So there's no real turkey?



   

                   

It's just regulation paper targets.

It's a test of skill.



   

                   

And I just found out yesterday, Jack,

they won't let kids shoot.



   

                   

- You said I could.

- I know.



   

                   

- It's not fair. You said that I could.

- I know...



   

                   

...but they got it screwed up

and told me wrong at first.



   

                   

- You did tell him.

- I don't make the rules.



   

                   

If I made the rules, I might make

different ones. But I don't make them.



   

                   

Okay. That's okay, honey.



   

                   

Don't worry. You can watch.



   

                   

- Why ain't you gonna get to shoot?

- Shut up.



   

                   

Next shooters, on your marks.



   

                   

- Is that it?

- There you go.



   

                   

- Okay, good luck.

- Thanks, John.



   

                   

Wolff, please. Caroline Wolff.



   

                   

You mean you want to enter too?



   

                   

I think it's against the rules.



   

                   

That sign says this is an NRA club,

and I'm an NRA member.



   

                   

That allows me to participate

in the activities of other chapters.



   

                   

- You'll be the only woman.

- Fine.



   

                   

There you go.



   

                   

- I got it. I got it.

- Thank you.



   

                   

Always a first time for everything.



   

                   

- Eighty-four!

- Eighty- four.



   

                   

Dwight Hansen.



   

                   

- Good luck, dear.

- You can do it, Dad.



   

                   

Dwight! Get on up there, buddy.



   

                   

Come on, Dwight. Show us your stuff.



   

                   

Twenty-four!



   

                   

Twenty- four, Dwight Hansen.



   

                   

- Nice.

- I could have done better.



   

                   

- Caroline Wolff.

- Oh, yeah!



   

                   

Mama, shake that thing!



   

                   

Ninety-three!



   

                   

Ninety- three.



   

                   

Ninety- three for Caroline Wolff.

Congratulations, Miss Wolff.



   

                   

- That was real good.

- Thank you.



   

                   

- Where did you learn to shoot?

- Beginner's luck.



   

                   

Wasn't she good? Wasn't she good, kids?

I'm really impressed.



   

                   

My gun, bolt's not working.

It's the third gun I've bought.



   

                   

It just won't work right.

Fucking thing.



   

                   

That was really good.



   

                   

- What gives?

- Mom won the turkey shoot.



   

                   

Oh, God. Now we're in for it. Dad

thinks he's some kind of big hunter.



   

                   

- Well, he killed a deer once.

- That was with the car, Pearl.



   

                   

Could you pass the salt

and pepper, Pearl?



   

                   

I got just one thing to say.



   

                   

I'm sitting at the table

with the best damn shot in the county.



   

                   

You should have seen her.



   

                   

- Almost got every one of them.

- I missed two.



   

                   

He's good.



   

                   

Yeah, Toby! Jack.



   

                   

You should do that.



   

                   

Good, Toby! Jack. Sorry. Jack.



   

                   

I know, not Toby. Jack.



   

                   

I blew it off, man.

I blew this fucking turkey's head off.



   

                   

- With a.  ?

- Fucking-A. Winchester.   pump.



   

                   

Wolff, you are so full of shit.



   

                   

Don't believe me. See if I care.



   

                   

A.   bullet would only make

a hole in his head.



   

                   

Yeah, one bullet, maybe.



   

                   

Oh, I see.



   

                   

So you hit the turkey

more than once...



   

                   

...while he was flying, in the head.



   

                   

Fuck you.



   

                   

Fuck you too.



   

                   

Fuck you. Fuck you! Fuck you, man!



   

                   

What did he do?



   

                   

He violated school property

and he flouted the law.



   

                   

Can you say that in English, please?



   

                   

He wrote obscene words on the wall.



   

                   

Did you do it?



   

                   

- He didn't do it.

- He wrote obscene words on the wall.



   

                   

What obscene words?



   

                   

"Fuck you."



   

                   

That's one obscene word.



   

                   

Look, Mrs. Wolff,

Jack's teachers like him...



   

                   

...but they feel he's fallen in

with the wrong kind of friends.



   

                   

Is that nicotine stains

on your fingers?



   

                   

I hope not.



   

                   

Well, back to the point.



   

                   

I think two weeks suspension.



   

                   

- So, what do we do?

- What do you mean?



   

                   

I mean, what shall we do?

Because this isn't working.



   

                   

We barely have any money.

Kathy's moving out now.



   

                   

- And you've gone wild. You lie.

- No, I don't.



   

                   

Yes, you do.



   

                   

You're smoking

and stealing from Marian's purse.



   

                   

I can't handle it anymore.

It scares me. I don't know what to do.



   

                   

So you tell me.



   

                   

I can be better. And I will be.



   

                   

I hate the way I am.

I don't know why I do it.



   

                   

I talked to Dwight the other day.



   

                   

After Christmas he wants you

to go to Concrete and live with him.



   

                   

Go to school up there.



   

                   

What are you gonna do,

give me away to him?



   

                   

Well, if you two get along

and things work out, I...



   

                   

He and I might get married.



   

                   

I don't know what else to do.



   

                   

You have to tell me it's okay.



   

                   

All right.



   

                   

Just think of it

like an adventure. Okay?



   

                   

I put in both sweaters. Be sure you

wear them. It's chilly there at night.



   

                   

Okay, I will.



   

                   

You don't have to go

if you don't want.



   

                   

It's not too late to change your mind.



   

                   

It's okay. I'll go.



   

                   

Here I am, you lucky people.



   

                   

Sorry.



   

                   

I'm sick to my stomach.



   

                   

Sick to your stomach?

A hotshot like you?



   

                   

- I'm not a hotshot.

- That's what I hear.



   

                   

I hear you're a real hotshot.



   

                   

Go where you want,

do what you want.



   

                   

Isn't that right?



   

                   

A regular man about town,

a performer too. Right?



   

                   

You a performer?



   

                   

I hear you do me.



   

                   

I hear you're real good at doing me.



   

                   

- Is that right?

- No, sir.



   

                   

That's a goddamn lie.



   

                   

If there's one thing I can't stomach,

it's a liar, Jack.



   

                   

- I'm not a liar.

- Sure, you are. You or Marian.



   

                   

Is Marian a liar? She says you're quite

the little performer. Is that a lie?



   

                   

Tell me that's a lie and we'll go back

so you can call her a liar to her face.



   

                   

You want me to do that?



   

                   

Did you hear what I said?

You want me to do that?



   

                   

- No.

- Then you must be the liar, right?



   

                   

And you're a performer?



   

                   

Let's see your act.



   

                   

Go on, do your act.

Come on, let's see your act.



   

                   

- I can't.

- Sure you can.



   

                   

Here.



   

                   

Do me with the lighter.



   

                   

Go on, take it.

Take it, hotshot.



   

                   

Take it.



   

                   

Go on, take it. Take it!



   

                   

You pull that hotshot stuff

around me...



   

                   

...and I'll break every bone

in your body.



   

                   

Do you understand?

I'll pop your head like a zit.



   

                   

You're in for a change.



   

                   

You're in for a whole other

ball game, buddy. Oh, yeah.



   

                   

So you'll be

in Miss Graham's class, right?



   

                   

- Yeah. Is she nice?

- She's okay. She's pretty.



   

                   

- I hate changing schools.

- I've never. I've been here all my life.



   

                   

Speaking of changing, I had a talk

with Jack on the way up here...



   

                   

...and he wants to be a better boy.



   

                   

Things weren't going well in Seattle.



   

                   

The police came to his house

and talked with Caroline about him.



   

                   

That's right. The police.



   

                   

- Idle hands are the devil's workshop.

- Criminal.



   

                   

So I found our Jack

a little something to do.



   

                   

I picked up two barrels

of horse chestnuts in the park...



   

                   

...and you can hull them

in the evenings.



   

                   

I also enrolled you in the Boy Scouts.



   

                   

And I got you a paper route.

Starts every Monday, from   to  :  .



   

                   

Every afternoon,   to  :  .

Pays    bucks a month.



   

                   

What do you say?



   

                   

I'll do it.



   

                   

- I wanna be better.

- That's what I like to hear.



   

                   

Okay, let's get this place cleaned up.

Let's get the dishes going.



   

                   

Let's show Jack

how we do it in Concrete.



   

                   

Jack? Let's go. Come on.



   

                   

I don't believe that crap.



   

                   

I believe there is such a thing

as a bad boy. Bad clear through.



   

                   

It's gonna be my job to turn you

around, to set you straight.



   

                   

That's right, to kill or cure.

Kill or cure.



   

                   

Caroline told me about your rich daddy

and prep- school brother.



   

                   

Your fancy days are over.

You're a Concrete boy now.



   

                   

I'm going to get you a Scout uniform.



   

                   

Really?



   

                   

One for me too.

Don't believe in doing things halfway.



   

                   

- Lf you're serious about the Scouts...

- I am.



   

                   

Then do it right.

We'll do it right together.



   

                   

I got you a subscription.

I'll take it out of your route money.



   

                   

Boys' Magazine?



   

                   

It's the Scout magazine.

It tells what it means to be a Scout.



   

                   

What kind of boy you need to be

and about merit badges and stuff.



   

                   

"Suggested Good Turns a Scout Can Do:



   

                   

Assist a foreign boy with English.

Help put out a burning field.



   

                   

Give water to a crippled dog."

I could do those.



   

                   

Hell, yes. You're a bright kid and

I want this Scout thing done right.



   

                   

- I'm not going!

- The hell you say.



   

                   

I'm not! This is Skipper's

and it doesn't fit. I'm staying home.



   

                   

You're gonna shit and fall back in it,

that's all. Now get out here.



   

                   

Look.



   

                   

Shut your pie-hole.

You look fine.



   

                   

- I look like an idiot.

- You act like an idiot.



   

                   

You said you'd get me a new one.



   

                   

I said I'd try to get you a new one.

Besides, this one is new to you.



   

                   

- The sleeves hang down.

- All you do is piss and moan.



   

                   

Piss and moan!

You're all jazzed up in new stuff.



   

                   

They didn't have secondhand in my size.



   

                   

Pull the other leg, it's got bells.



   

                   

Will you tell Caroline

that you wouldn't join the Scouts...



   

                   

...because him didn't like

his little uniform? Okay.



   

                   

I wanna show you something.



   

                   

"Words for Thought:



   

                   

No boy, given over to dissipation

or negativity, can stand the gaff.



   

                   

He quickly tires and gives up.



   

                   

He is the type who usually

lacks courage at the crucial moment.



   

                   

He cannot take punishment

and come back smiling."



   

                   

Anybody we know?



   

                   

Hotshot?



   

                   

Anybody we know?



   

                   

- Fine, but this stinks.

- Hotshot.



   

                   

Me and Concrete are in your blood.



   

                   

We'll make a man of you.

In years, you'll thank me.



   

                   

You'll remember me.

Me and Concrete. Right?



   

                   

- How do I look?

- You look fine.



   

                   

Fire.



   

                   

Food.



   

                   

Rapids.



   

                   

Want.



   

                   

People.



   

                   

Twinkle.



   

                   

Father.



   

                   

We are gathered together...



   

                   

...in the sight of God...



   

                   

...to join together this man

and this woman...



   

                   

...in the state of holy matrimony.



   

                   

It is an honorable estate, instituted

of God and signifying unto us...



   

                   

...the mystical union which exists

between Christ and his church.



   

                   

It is, therefore, not to be

entered into lightly...



   

                   

...but reverently, discreetly,

and in fear of God.



   

                   

Honey, let's not do it

this way tonight.



   

                   

- It's good this way.

- I know, but I want to see your face.



   

                   

No. I don't like that way.



   

                   

You don't like to do it face to face?



   

                   

I don't like that way.

I don't like to see the face.



   

                   

- You mean, never?

- No.



   

                   

- But that's crazy.

- Look!



   

                   

You can get it doggie-style

or laying on your side.



   

                   

This is my house and I get to say.

Got it?



   

                   

Sorry.



   

                   

Want some?



   

                   

- Some what?

- Coffee.



   

                   

No.



   

                   

- Happy wedding breakfast.

- Good morning.



   

                   

- Jack.

- Good morning, Daddy.



   

                   

- Where's the paper?

- It's by the toaster.



   

                   

- Coffee?

- Thank you.



   

                   

- So how is the bride this morning?

- Don't.



   

                   

- The bride doesn't wanna chat.

- That's enough.



   

                   

The bride sure is snotty this morning.



   

                   

So, Jack, how are you feeling

this morning?



   

                   

I'm okay.



   

                   

- So did you have fun last night?

- You bet we did.



   

                   

Good.



   

                   

She's good enough, man.



   

                   

- She wanted to, but I didn't want to.

- You said no?



   

                   

You guys are sick.



   

                   

I'm sorry.



   

                   

Look who's coming.



   

                   

- Who's that?

- Arthur Gayle.



   

                   

What a homo.



   

                   

- He walks like a girl.

- Yeah.



   

                   

Runs like one, talks like one,

throws like one.



   

                   

And probably takes a pee like one too.

Just squats right down.



   

                   

He mouthed off to me the other day.

I was gonna sock him.



   

                   

He called me a bourgeois.



   

                   

- What's a bourgeois?

- I don't know.



   

                   

Call him a homo.



   

                   

- Why?

- Just see what he says.



   

                   

My, my. What do we have here?

Elmer Fudd and his hunting boys.



   

                   

Look at all that yellow.



   

                   

Didn't your mama teach you

to wash your hands after you pee?



   

                   

Shut up.



   

                   

Strike one. That was very good.

Very original.



   

                   

Did you just make that up?

That was very, very clever.



   

                   

Why don't you just fuck off,

dick-lick?



   

                   

Excuse me!



   

                   

Has anyone told you you look exactly

like a pile of steaming dog turd?



   

                   

Yeah? Well, at least

I'm not a great, big homo.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Get him. Come on, get him!



   

                   

Take him, Jack.



   

                   

Come on, take him out!



   

                   

Asshole!



   

                   

Fucking asshole!



   

                   

Come on!



   

                   

Get him. Get him!



   

                   

Kick his ass, Jack.



   

                   

Get up, son of a bitch!

You stink of dog shit! Get up.



   

                   

I'll kill you!



   

                   

Take it back.



   

                   

Take it back!



   

                   

- Okay.

- Say it.



   

                   

- I take it back.

- No.



   

                   

Say, "You're not a homo."



   

                   

You're not a homo.



   

                   

Come on, Pepper.



   

                   

Well. So!



   

                   

Who won?



   

                   

He can't see out of one eye.



   

                   

Hot damn! You actually gave

Little Lord Gayle a black eye?



   

                   

- Yeah. It's not black yet.

- But it's all puffed up?



   

                   

Then it's a shiner, right? Right?



   

                   

How'd it start?



   

                   

I called him a sissy.



   

                   

He can't sue you for slander.

He fights for the pink team.



   

                   

Goddamn kid's queer.

Did you make him cry?



   

                   

Yeah. He was ready to.



   

                   

I called him a big-ass

squat-to-pee sissy.



   

                   

I'd have won bigger,

but he hit when I wasn't looking.



   

                   

He dry-gulched you?

Wait a minute. That's your fault.



   

                   

There's no excuse for getting

dry-gulched. You got me?



   

                   

I'm gonna show you a few moves...



   

                   

...that'll leave Miss Gayle

wondering what month it is. Okay?



   

                   

I said to this kid,

"Stop doing that."



   

                   

He said, "What business is it to you?"

I said, "I don't think it's right."



   

                   

He said, "What will you do?"

I said, "Something."



   

                   

He said, "You and who else?" I said,

"The three of us: Me, myself and I."



   

                   

After school, he's waiting for me.

He yells something.



   

                   

People like that, you gotta hurt them

or they'll never leave you alone.



   

                   

So it was real hot out. Okay?



   

                   

There were horse turds

laying all over the place.



   

                   

I picked up a big, mushy one

and go up to him, not acting tough.



   

                   

Acting more like,

"I'm so scared. Please don't hurt me."



   

                   

Minding my business. And I say to him,

"Excuse me. What's the problem?"



   

                   

And he goes...



   

                   

I go...

I jam that turd in his fat mouth.



   

                   

Then I sucker punch him.

He goes down, and I kick his face...



   

                   

...jump on his head, then

I jam another turd down his throat...



   

                   

...kick his fucking teeth

a couple times.



   

                   

And that was the end. Never bothered

me again, that piece of shit.



   

                   

Just a little tale.



   

                   

You're getting it.

That's it. Good hit.



   

                   

Try for my face.



   

                   

That's it.

Keep yourself in the fight.



   

                   

Keep it open. Open.

That's it. Wide open.



   

                   

One, two, three, four!



   

                   

This is nothing

compared to what you'll get.



   

                   

Keep that guard up.

When you go like that, bring it back.



   

                   

Keep your guard up!

Try the jab.



   

                   

- I am.

- Try it. Come on.



   

                   

Want me to call you

Miss Jackie Wolff?



   

                   

Oh, my. Go, Jackie.

Jackie! Jackie.



   

                   

What about the honeymoon night?

Dwight seems so shy.



   

                   

- No, I wouldn't say he was shy, no.

- Come on, Caroline. Fill me in.



   

                   

We're still getting to know

each other.



   

                   

Okay. So how's Jack doing?



   

                   

You're not trying.



   

                   

- Are him and Dwight getting along okay?

- They're like father and son.



   

                   

Really? That's just great.

Caroline, are you okay?



   

                   

I'm fine. Things are just fine.



   

                   

You said you were going to teach me

how to dry-gulch somebody.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

You can always kick somebody

in the balls. But this one's better.



   

                   

What you do is hit them in the throat

with the side of your forearm, like that.



   

                   

You wait until...



   

                   

Now that's dry-gulching.



   

                   

Hit them in the throat,

but do it before they expect it.



   

                   

You got that?

Before they're expecting...



   

                   

You got that? Now you try it.



   

                   

- Come on, you try it.

- No.



   

                   

- Don't be afraid.

- No, you'll hurt me.



   

                   

- Just try it.

- No.



   

                   

Try it. I'll hurt you

if you don't do it. Come on!



   

                   

Come on.

Let's go, goddamn it!



   

                   

Let's start, you little

fucking sissy all your goddamn life.



   

                   

Quitter! Gonna be a goddamn quitter?

Let's go! Damn you.



   

                   

Don't go shy. You're acting as sissy as

Little Miss Arthur Gayle, you know that?



   

                   

I'm gonna call you

Little Miss Jackie Wolff.



   

                   

My, yes. Oh, Jackie.

My, yes. Little Miss Jackie Wolff.



   

                   

Is that what you want me to call you?



   

                   

Is that what you want the kids

to call you? Jackie Wolff?



   

                   

Come on. Let's go.

Come on. Let's do it.



   

                   

Jesus Christ,

if you're gonna act like...



   

                   

You just about

got dry-gulched, mister.



   

                   

Ask him again, please.

I need it so much.



   

                   

I asked him already. I asked him

last week. I asked him this morning.



   

                   

He wants you to keep the route.



   

                   

Then make him give me the money.

It's mine, and I earned it. It's $   .



   

                   

He won't. He wants to keep it

until you really need it.



   

                   

It's not fair! I ought to be able

to keep my own money.



   

                   

But it's mine, Mom!



   

                   

Ask him about my gym shoes.



   

                   

I can practice barefoot.

For games, I need them.



   

                   

I won't do it, Jack.

I won't be a referee.



   

                   

The bride won't argue.

The bride won't even raise her voice.



   

                   

I'll tell you what she'll do.



   

                   

The bride will go over there and

slap the hell out of the bride's son.



   

                   

Does the bride's son

want his face slapped?



   

                   

I hate it here, you know that?

I wanna just get up and go.



   

                   

I don't have another get-up-and-go

left in me. Do you understand that?



   

                   

I can't run anymore.

I've hit a brick wall here.



   

                   

This whole thing isn't perfect for me

either. Let me impress that on you.



   

                   

I don't exactly wake up singing

every morning.



   

                   

I know you don't believe me now,

but it's the best thing.



   

                   

Okay?



   

                   

I'm gonna make this marriage work.

I won't join in any fights.



   

                   

I won't even raise my voice.



   

                   

You see these?



   

                   

He picked them for me last night

on his way home.



   

                   

Big deal.



   

                   

I'm trying to concentrate

on the good stuff.



   

                   

What do you think?



   

                   

I think I look like a fool.

But who cares?



   

                   

Six weeks to graduation

and California here I come.



   

                   

You have to try and concentrate

on the good stuff.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

You like my dog?



   

                   

- Yeah, he's nice.

- He's smart too. He can talk.



   

                   

Sure, I just about believe you.



   

                   

Pepper, what's on a tree?



   

                   

Bark.



   

                   

I wanna ask you,

how's the world treating you?



   

                   

Rough?



   

                   

I know how you mean.



   

                   

That's dumb.

A little funny, though.



   

                   

How come your dad

never comes to meetings?



   

                   

I don't have a dad.

I never did.



   

                   

I sprang full-blown

from my mother's imagination.



   

                   

Wanna walk home with me and Pepper?



   

                   

I knew I'd like you,

because you're an alien.



   

                   

An alien?



   

                   

You and I don't belong in Concrete.

This place would like to kill us.



   

                   

Come on, that's a little dramatic.



   

                   

- You think so?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Do you know what chickens do

when one chicken's different?



   

                   

With black feathers on its head, say?



   

                   

They peck at that black spot

until the chicken's dead.



   

                   

They can't stand that it's different.



   

                   

We're both different. Your difference

is something other than my difference.



   

                   

But we're both aliens here.



   

                   

See, I don't exactly feel like an alien.

I've got friends, you know.



   

                   

They're idiots. You act like an idiot

when you're around them.



   

                   

A prediction:



   

                   

If you stay in Concrete,

you'll wind up working at the A & P.



   

                   

Either that, or you'll go on a rampage

with a hunting rifle.



   

                   

And you'll wind up a recluse who

likes to dress in his mama's old clothes.



   

                   

Maybe.



   

                   

Maybe.



   

                   

One thing I know...



   

                   

...no matter how many times I repeat...



   

                   

...my primary goal

is to get out of Concrete.



   

                   

Burma-Shave!



   

                   

Thank you, Joe Feeney.



   

                   

And here's a happy tune that features

our happy Norwegian.



   

                   

"The Laughing Polka. "



   

                   

See, honey? You gotta try

and find the good stuff.



   

                   

You're a hog.

Don't tell me you're not.



   

                   

How do you know Skipper

didn't do it, or Norma?



   

                   

- I told them to stay away from this candy.

- How do you know I ate any?



   

                   

I counted them. You hogged down

   chocolates since yesterday.



   

                   

So what?



   

                   

That makes you a hog!

I just wanna establish that fact.



   

                   

Mr. Hotshot Hog and I have

just been establishing some facts:



   

                   

One, he's a pig who gobbles down candy.

Two, he lies about it.



   

                   

Three, he lays around on his candy-ass,

day and night, reading.



   

                   

And four, he's not getting $    gym

shoes. That's what we've come up with.



   

                   

Dad, just lay off.



   

                   

Don't give me that shit!

Shut your goddamn pie-hole.



   

                   

Why don't you take up for me?



   

                   

Why don't you help me

straighten him out?



   

                   

All he ever does is read or listen

to music or sing. I'm sick of it.



   

                   

"Blue Monday."

I'm so sick of that shit!



   

                   

When he's not singing, he's watching

TV. Don't say you don't.



   

                   

When I come home,

I feel the TV to see if it's warm...



   

                   

...and it always is. This is the news.

I want you to know I'm wise to you.



   

                   

Big deal!

I don't wanna do my paper route.



   

                   

I bet you don't. You'd rather

lay on your ass and read all day.



   

                   

You're going to deliver those papers if

I have to walk behind you with a whip.



   

                   

Yeah? Then give me the money

that I earned.



   

                   

I'm putting it in the bank

for when you need it.



   

                   

- You'll thank me later.

- Make him buy gym shoes.



   

                   

How can I play basketball

without any gym...?



   

                   

It's not the shoes, is it?

Or the candy, or anything else.



   

                   

It's me. You can't stand

the fact that I exist.



   

                   

No, it's not that at all.

It's just that I...



   

                   

You have to be well-behaved.

Your rich daddy doesn't care.



   

                   

Somebody's gotta train you.

You need to be trained...



   

                   

...not to be a fucking hog

and hog everybody's candy!



   

                   

- What's the matter?

- I will not referee!



   

                   

I think you've upset your mother, so

let's go to the Scouts and let her rest.



   

                   

Honey, you just lay down

and rest a while.



   

                   

Now look what you did.



   

                   

Got her upset too.



   

                   

Check for the tongue tonight, otherwise

you won't get your lifesaving badge.



   

                   

Whose dog is that on the porch?



   

                   

Yours.



   

                   

- Mine?

- Yeah, you said you wanted a dog.



   

                   

- A collie. Not that thing.

- Well, he's yours. You paid for him.



   

                   

- Get ready for Norma's play.

- What do you mean, I paid for him?



   

                   

My Winchester's gone!



   

                   

That dog's purebred English bulldog.

A champion. Don't forget that.



   

                   

I don't want it!



   

                   

You're out of luck.

That rifle's in Seattle.



   

                   

I want my rifle!



   

                   

Want in one hand and

shit in the other.



   

                   

That Winchester was mine!



   

                   

Champ is your dog. I trade some piece

of crap for a valuable hunting dog...



   

                   

...and all you do is piss and moan.

- I'm not pissing and moaning.



   

                   

The hell you aren't! You can just make

your own deals from now on.



   

                   

I said, don't ever touch me again,

because...



   

                   

... I'm absolutely finished.

This is the end.



   

                   

I want you to get out!



   

                   

This impassioned testimony helped sway

the jury to acquit...



   

                   

... Cheryl Crane of the murder

of Johnny Stompanato...



   

                   

... boyfriend of Cheryl's mother,

film star Lana Turner.



   

                   

The jury returned a verdict

of justifiable homicide...



   

                   

... allowing Cheryl to go free

for the killing of Stompanato.



   

                   

The stabbing occurred during an

argument, when Cheryl grabbed a knife...



   

                   

... said to her mother, "You don't have to

take that!" and stabbed Stompanato.



   

                   

His threatening behavior

was a factor...



   

                   

... in the jury's verdict

of justifiable homicide.



   

                   

A violent final chapter in this affair

ends in the famous pink bedroom...



   

                   

... of Lana Turner's

Beverly Hills mansion.



   

                   

- Hello.

- That your car in the ditch back there?



   

                   

- Yeah.

- How did it get there?



   

                   

- It's hard to explain.

- Get in then, we'll have to tow it.



   

                   

Hey. Anybody home?



   

                   

Your mom said you were sick.

Feeling better?



   

                   

Yeah.



   

                   

Get some sleep, did you?



   

                   

- About four hours.

- Well, you must have needed it.



   

                   

Good.



   

                   

Oh, by the way...



   

                   

...you didn't hear a funny

pinging noise in the engine, did you?



   

                   

God, look at me. I gotta shave.

I look terrible.



   

                   

- What engine?

- I was downtown with Champ...



   

                   

...and I met a guy who recognized him.

Said he'd seen my dog this morning.



   

                   

He told me a story

how he and the dog met.



   

                   

I thought you'd like to hear about it.



   

                   

What do you think about that?



   

                   

I don't know what

you're talking about.



   

                   

Dwight! Stop!



   

                   

You steal my car?

You steal my car?



   

                   

- Stop!

- Don't you steal my car!



   

                   

Stop! Don't!



   

                   

Only me on this whole earth

to straighten you out.



   

                   

And I'll do it. Kill or cure.

Kill or cure.



   

                   

Now get your ass up.

You're going to school.



   

                   

Come on, Jack.



   

                   

Hurry up.



   

                   

Come on, Wolff. Move it.



   

                   

A lot can happen in two years.



   

                   

Skipper and Norma had left

and moved to Seattle.



   

                   

I was gonna get out too.



   

                   

But in the meantime

I made some new friends.



   

                   

- Gorilla blood.

- Psycho, shut up.



   

                   

- Fuck you.

- Hey, look, there goes Carol Baumgarten.



   

                   

- Ain't she sweet? She's hot for Wolff.

- Yeah, I wish.



   

                   

Won't do her any good.

He's saving himself for Rhea.



   

                   

- Know what?

- Fuck off.



   

                   

He said even the inside of her arm

turns him on. Her arm.



   

                   

You slay me, Wolff.

She is pretty, though.



   

                   

I'd sure like to eat

Rhea Clark's pussy.



   

                   

- Give it a rest.

- No, I mean it. I mean it.



   

                   

I'd like to get down

and really grovel on it.



   

                   

Spend about a week

with my face right in it.



   

                   

Meeting newsmen,

Mr. Truman pledges to support...



   

                   

- ... John F. Kennedy for president.

- I ask your help in this campaign.



   

                   

It's good news, they say that Truman's

gonna campaign for Kennedy.



   

                   

I gave $   to his office today.



   

                   

- I was thinking, I could go work...

- Here I am, you lucky people.



   

                   

The SOB had been on my back

for a week at work...



   

                   

...saying I stole his wrench

and poured oil all over his tools.



   

                   

Well, he went one step too far

with old Dwight.



   

                   

He spat on the floor as I went by.

I walked back to him...



   

                   

...acting dainty, humble and scared.

Then he took his eyes off me.



   

                   

I dry-gulched that son of a bitch.



   

                   

He never gave me another second's

grief, and that was five years ago.



   

                   

Yeah, come here. Come on.

Come here, Champ.



   

                   

Come here. Come on. Thattaboy.



   

                   

I heard Mr. Kennedy

on the news again tonight.



   

                   

I don't know. It seems that

every once in a while...



   

                   

...somebody comes along who

doesn't seem like he's such a liar.



   

                   

- Kennedy, the senator from Rome.

- He gives me hope.



   

                   

I know what he gives you

and it sure as hell isn't hope.



   

                   

You're right there.

He is very attractive.



   

                   

He does have pearly-white teeth.

I don't think that's it.



   

                   

Come on, boy. Attaboy.



   

                   

- I'm gonna go work for the campaign.

- No, that's a bad idea. Bad idea.



   

                   

Too many Republicans in town.

They hear you work for Democrats...



   

                   

...they'll take their cars

someplace else to be fixed.



   

                   

Right, boy? Right, my little baby boy?

Come to Daddy.



   

                   

Oh, Ricky. Please let me come down

and work for you at the club.



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

- Champ.

- Get away.



   

                   

Champ!



   

                   

- Champ. Sit. Sit.

- Treat me like Lucy, I'll act like her.



   

                   

I'm working for the Kennedy's campaign.

Are you through?



   

                   

- You're not working for them.

- We'll see.



   

                   

You're not working for the campaign!

Get that through your head.



   

                   

- You're not.

- There's no reason on earth why I can't.



   

                   

There is every reason in the world.

I just told you.



   

                   

- You can count on it. I'll do it.

- What?



   

                   

- Count on it.

- I told you why.



   

                   

I'll be through in a minute.



   

                   

You left the lid

off the damn toothpaste again.



   

                   

Dwight, is that the best

you can come up with?



   

                   

This is my house, and I get to say

about the toothpaste. You got that?



   

                   

Huh? Have you? Huh?



   

                   

If you lived with your dad, Duke, and his

rich wife, things might be different.



   

                   

But he's not here now, is he? Is he?

Oh, Duke. Duke, are you here?



   

                   

Duke? Dukie? Are you here?



   

                   

Oh, how sad. Duke's not here.

Oh, boo-hoo.



   

                   

My house. My bathroom. I get to say

about the toothpaste. You got that?



   

                   

Come on. Come on. Give me an excuse.

Come on.



   

                   

- Hey.

- You didn't pick this up yesterday.



   

                   

- You got nothing higher than a C.

- Shut up.



   

                   

- Voilá.

- You're gonna get caught someday.



   

                   

Oh, I'm so scared. Really.



   

                   

You act more like those morons

you hang around with every day.



   

                   

- I'm Psycho. I'm retarded.

- He hears you do that, you're dead.



   

                   

- Let me copy your math homework.

- No. But I'll show you how to do it.



   

                   

I tell you I'm thirsty and you offer me

a sandwich. Thank you and fuck you.



   

                   

I take it back. You don't act like Psycho,

you act like Dwight.



   

                   

I know it.

He's winning, isn't he?



   

                   

I do act like him

and I feel like him sometimes.



   

                   

I've gotta get out of this place

or I'm dead.



   

                   

- You've said that for two years.

- This time I mean it.



   

                   

I'll live with Gregory in Princeton.



   

                   

The brother who never calls?



   

                   

- That brother?

- I may go to a prep school like he did.



   

                   

- Like my dad.

- What about your grades?



   

                   

- What about money?

- Dwight owes me over $     .



   

                   

If he hadn't kept my paper route money

I'd be okay.



   

                   

If the dog hadn't stopped to pee,

he would have caught the rabbit.



   

                   

You know what?

I think Dwight was right about you.



   

                   

I think you do fight for the pink team.



   

                   

My brother and I had been in touch.



   

                   

He said the road from Concrete

to Princeton starts with SATs.



   

                   

And that I could take them

at the Lakeside School in Seattle.



   

                   

Dwight said I had

as much chance of passing...



   

                   

... as he had of farting his way through

the "Star- Spangled Banner. "



   

                   

Hi, honey. Would you take

that trash out for me, please?



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

My application forms came today,

and he threw them away.



   

                   

I thought I was helping.

I'd save him some trouble.



   

                   

He's got no chance of getting into

some fancy prep school.



   

                   

Your nose is always pressed

against the bakeshop window.



   

                   

- What?

- You're afraid that someone...



   

                   

...is gonna get what you never had.

It makes you mean.



   

                   

You know something?



   

                   

One day that meanness will snap back

and slap you in the face.



   

                   

Oh, I'm so scared. I'm so scared.

I'm so scared!



   

                   

This is all you gave me for dinner?



   

                   

When I went to fill out applications,

I ran into a wall.



   

                   

They wanted letters of recommendation

from teachers.



   

                   

I could write these myself.



   

                   

But they wanted my grades on

our official school transcript forms.



   

                   

- And this was a problem.

- I won't do it.



   

                   

You work in the office.

No one will know.



   

                   

I'm surprised you

want help from the pink team.



   

                   

I'm asking you for help. I heard

I did really well on those tests.



   

                   

But it's not enough.

I've got to cheat and lie.



   

                   

If they want A's,

I have to give them to them.



   

                   

- It's so simple. You're the only way I...

- No!



   

                   

Why should you get to be

the one who leaves?



   

                   

Why not me?



   

                   

You could leave too, you know.



   

                   

No. I've grown progressively fond

of Concrete.



   

                   

I think I'll stay here all alone and

dress up in my mama's old clothes.



   

                   

You know, like you said.



   

                   

Excuse me. I need some help here.

Fuck!



   

                   

Jack! Jack, you got letters

from those schools!



   

                   

Hey, Wolff!

Bring that bottle over here.



   

                   

Brand new,

with a nice shine and everything.



   

                   

Bullshit. Nobody in your family's

ever been in a Corvette.



   

                   

- But you're going to own one?

- Yeah.



   

                   

- Go pick it up.

- I'm gonna move to Seattle.



   

                   

I'll get a job at Bendix

and drive to work in my Vette.



   

                   

My uncle can have any car.

Makes big bucks as an electrician.



   

                   

- Yeah, how big?

- $     a week, take home.



   

                   

- Bullshitter.

- Even supervisors don't make that.



   

                   

Then how are you gonna

make enough to drive a Vette?



   

                   

- I'll drive a T-Bird.

- I'm gonna own a Vette...



   

                   

...even if I have to rob

the Bendix payroll.



   

                   

You losers. Bunch of losers.



   

                   

- Who you calling a loser?

- Jackie called us losers.



   

                   

All of you!



   

                   

You're gonna drive a Fairlane,

just like your daddy does.



   

                   

Tell me something, Psycho. Tell me.



   

                   

How you gonna drive a T-Bird if you're

a janitor like your entire family?



   

                   

Forget about being an electrician.

You can't even pass   th-grade math.



   

                   

- Who died and made you King Shit?

- Yeah. You're no better than us.



   

                   

I know, that's my point, Psycho.



   

                   

You guys are my buddies.



   

                   

You guys are my pals.



   

                   

My dear old dad's called Dwight.



   

                   

Welcome to beautiful Concrete.



   

                   

We only take boys who want to work.

Is that you?



   

                   

I want you to start evenings now.



   

                   

And I'd want you to work all summer.

No vacations.



   

                   

Food-service work isn't easy.



   

                   

It doesn't come to you

in a year or two.



   

                   

So, you think you got what it takes

to be an A & P management trainee?



   

                   

Yeah, it's exactly what I've got.



   

                   

- Now, where did this...?

- I got another one.



   

                   

You're gonna finish this puzzle.



   

                   

Look. See this one? See this house?

So it's got to go with the house.



   

                   

I got the top together.



   

                   

Excellent. You're very good at this.



   

                   

You're gonna finish this entire puzzle

and I have only put in one piece.



   

                   

I got it. Found it.



   

                   

No, right here. Look, I got it.



   

                   

Carla and Skipper are the best.



   

                   

- Hi, I'm home.

- Hi, sweetheart.



   

                   

You're late. We started dinner.



   

                   

- Sorry.

- We had to go ahead and eat.



   

                   

- Give me a second, I'll get your dinner.

- I'll get some at work.



   

                   

I don't want you to go to work

on an empty stomach.



   

                   

- I'm in a rush, sorry.

- There's a plate in the oven.



   

                   

- Put it on the table.

- What are these?



   

                   

Blueberry muffins.

I made them for you.



   

                   

I was trying to listen to a record.



   

                   

Hello?



   

                   

Yeah, he's here. Are you Tobias?



   

                   

Hello?



   

                   

- Who was that?

- I don't know.



    

                   

All right.



    

                   

Okay, tomorrow, then.



    

                   

Bye.



    

                   

Well?



    

                   

It was Hill School,

the last one I applied to.



    

                   

They haven't accepted me yet...



    

                   

...but they're sending somebody in

to interview me.



    

                   

I enjoy my classes,

especially the advanced ones.



    

                   

But lately I've been feeling restless.

It's hard to explain.



    

                   

Oh, come on, that's easy to explain.

You're bored. Not being challenged.



    

                   

Toby, your application was very good.

But many boys want to go to Hill...



    

                   

...and not everybody is comfortable

at prep school.



    

                   

I think I would. Both my father

and brother went to prep schools.



    

                   

- Is that right? Where?

- Deerfield and Choate.



    

                   

I see. Well, you might like it.



    

                   

Hill was difficult for me, though.

Academically, it was hard.



    

                   

Then, my last year things changed.

My classmates grew close in ways...



    

                   

...I never would've thought possible.

So close that...



    

                   

...well, I still think of them

as sort of a second family.



    

                   

I want that. I do.



    

                   

She says, "No, I don't want you to

do that." And I said, "Let me get down...



    

                   

...and grovel in it." I mean, I ate her

pussy till my tongue was calloused.



    

                   

Then, I noticed her nipples got hard.



    

                   

You know, not big fat nipples,

but hard raisin nipples.



    

                   

So she goes off like

this Roman candle.



    

                   

I mean, that woman can scream.

I says, "You liked that, didn't you?



    

                   

You like the old Arch Cook special,

don't you?"



    

                   

Bye, Richie.



    

                   

Toby, boys at Hill talk roughly too,

sometimes.



    

                   

I can see you've led

rather a sheltered life.



    

                   

Yeah.



    

                   

You seem like a fine boy, and

I'm going to give you a good report.



    

                   

But there are lots of boys applying.

We'll just have to wait and see...



    

                   

Hotshot. It's the hotshot boy.



    

                   

Guy who thinks he knows everything,

thinks he's smart.



    

                   

Fella, what you don't know

would fill a book.



    

                   

Edsel's a shit car.



    

                   

He's a mechanic,

he did bad work on our car.



    

                   

It's just, he acts like that.

I don't know why.



    

                   

- Well, good luck.

- Thanks.



    

                   

I know what'll make you feel good.

That man called.



    

                   

You got the scholarship. They're gonna

give you $     a year. Great, huh?



    

                   

So I guess you'll be leaving soon.

I'm gonna miss you.



    

                   

I'm making hot dogs. Want one?

Can you put mustard on bread for us?



    

                   

Hey, what are you doing home so...?

Toby got the scholarship. $    .



    

                   

Hey, leopard. I say, hey, leopard.

I know you, leopard.



    

                   

I can see those spots

that you can't change, leopard.



    

                   

Huh, leopard? Huh?



    

                   

He thinks he'll go to a fancy school

and fool everybody.



    

                   

Not a chance.



    

                   

I know a thing or two

about a thing or two.



    

                   

I sure do. Sure do.



    

                   

- Who threw this away?

- I did.



    

                   

- You threw it away? Why?

- Because it was empty.



    

                   

- That look empty?

- Looks empty to me.



    

                   

- To me too.

- Look again, hotshot.



    

                   

- Is it empty? Is it empty?

- Dad.



    

                   

- Now, now, now, is it empty?

- Stop!



    

                   

Now, Mr. Bigtime-Hotshot-

Prep-School-Fucker, is it empty?



    

                   

- Is it empty? Huh?

- No.



    

                   

Good. All right. Now, clean it out.



    

                   

Clean it out!



    

                   

Now, was it empty?



    

                   

- Huh? Was it empty?

- Yes.



    

                   

Come on, you fuck!



    

                   

Come on. Come on.



    

                   

Get away from him!



    

                   

Get away from him or I'll kill you.



    

                   

What's going on here?



    

                   

I got the scholarship and he went nuts.

He's crazy. I'm leaving!



    

                   

Great. Go. Finally. About time.

About time. Go.



    

                   

I'm gone!

Give me my paper route money.



    

                   

- That money is gone with the wind.

- No!



    

                   

I spent it.



    

                   

For things we needed!



    

                   

It's gone! Poof!



    

                   

Know something? It's not

that you're disappointing.



    

                   

- You're consistently disappointing.

- Fancy talk. Fancy talk for a whore.



    

                   

Yeah, I know a thing or two

about a thing or two.



    

                   

I got friends in this town

and they tell me things.



    

                   

I heard a guy at campaign headquarters

got you a job in Washington, D.C.



    

                   

You're gonna run off with him,

right, whore?



    

                   

- You're pathetic.

- Miss Whore. Liar! Whore! You know it.



    

                   

Mom, you can leave too.



    

                   

I'm leaving.

You don't have to stay for this shit!



    

                   

- I don't, do I?

- No.



    

                   

- Liar! Whore!

- I could leave with you, couldn't I?



    

                   

Yes, you could.



    

                   

- I could walk right out, couldn't I?

- Yes.



    

                   

- What?

- I'm leaving you, Dwight.



    

                   

- No. No, you're not. What about me?

- I'm leaving.



    

                   

- What about me?

- I'm leaving you.



    

                   

Why stay? You don't even like me.



    

                   

No, you're not leaving.

You're not leaving.



    

                   

Keep away from us.



    

                   

You always sided against me,

thought you were better.



    

                   

I tried. I did the best I could.

What about me?



    

                   

What am I supposed to do?

Crawl off in some ditch and die?



    

                   

What about me?



    

                   

What about me? What about me?



    

                   

When is it ever Dwight's turn

for some consideration? What about me?



    

                   

I'll tell you one thing,

you'll remember me!



    

                   

- It was as easy as that.

- You'll remember me!



    

                   

We just picked up and left.



    

                   

You can dream of a moment for years and

still somehow miss it when it comes.



    

                   

You've got to reach through the flames

and take it or lose it forever.



    

                   

I took it. So did my mother.



    

                   

We never looked back.



    

                   

I borrowed money

from everybody we know.



    

                   

- So here's the extra $    for tuition.

- Thanks.



    

                   

There's another    there, get

yourself a blazer or something, okay?



    

                   

Okay.



    

                   

Well...



    

                   

You're sure you're gonna be all right?



    

                   

Yeah, Mom, my bus comes in two hours.

I'll be fine.



    

                   

I'm going to miss you so much.



    

                   

Get on the bus, Mom.



    

                   

I love you.



    

                   

I know that, Mom.

I've always known that.



    

                   

All aboard.



    

                   

- Bye, honey.

- Bye.



    

                   

I love you.







  





  

 
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