what, dorothy? he makes a "big breasts" gesture.
you okay?
you don't look fine.
all right, all right. just, if there's, you know, if there's somethin' you wanna bullshit about or anything, just let me know. might help.
sorry.
it's a surprise. he tugs. she resists.
well, if i told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, would it? we let him pull us through the door.
oh yeah, the surprise.
drink, motherfucker, drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker
yeah there is, yeah there is. he puts his arm around us, leads us back into the room.
are you kidding? look at yourself! kurt turns samantha toward an old mirror that hangs over the fireplace. she's good-looking, if she knew it. terribly insecure, doesn't even like looking at herself. we turn away, embarrassed. kurt ah ah ah, look! he makes us look in the mirror again. kurt mama, you are hot. he turns her toward him, looks at her, closely. kurt
come on, samantha, i'll be your friend, i swear i will.
come on, baby, how `bout a little helmet wash? his belt buckle comes into our view, and his hands on it. we tear away, get up and run for the door. from behind, something hits us very hard. the floorboards race up at us, all of a sudden. we land on them, hard, bounce off, our own blood spraying out on the unfinished wood. our head lands sideways on the floor. we see adam mccarthy, vomiting in the corner. abruptly, we're rolled over and are staring at the ceiling. kurt damon is on top of us, his face too close. her hands rise up, try to push him off, but he's stronger. samantha starts to scream. hands close over our face. she bites, and the hands are pulled away. she screams again. kurt
shut her up! use your jacket or
what the fuck did you do that for?
no shit she's dead.
look at her tongue, man.
i never saw nobody dead before. we start to fall back, and down, as if sinking into the floor. kurt and adam grow taller, further away. their voices fade.
it's fuckin' gross.
fuckin' plastic over her face. good thinkin', adam.
don't look at me!