Assassination of a High School President

Bobby Funke:
Look Clara... I am the best writer you got.

Clara:
Bobby, you've never finished an article.

Bobby Funke:
[sternly] Well, are you going to give me this one, or not?

Clara:
...No.

[awkward pause]

Bobby Funke:
Do you want to come to Homecoming with me, then?

Clara:
[smiles]... No.

Bobby Funke:
[narrating] Clara was one tough cookie. All I wanted was a taste.

[Funke sighs and walks away]

[first lines]

Bobby Funke:
[narrating] You want to know the truth about high school? You've got to break it down into its elements. Unfortunately, at St. Donovan's, the periodic table is more crooked than a case of scoliosis. Just give me the chance and I'll set it all straight. Case in point, Spanish homework. "Dame un batido de esperma" does not mean, "Take me to the airport." It means, "Give me a sperm milkshake." And 22 kids gave that as an answer in Spanish 3 last week. I'm not sure about the milkshake, but somebody is sure feeding us something sticky. Every clique on campus is copying the same damn homework. Burn-outs, pretty boys, drama-dorks, jocks, debaters, player-haters, you name it. Oh, it's big, all right. And I'm on it like pink rubber bands on your little sister's braces. The name's Bobby Funke. I write for the paper.

[last lines]

Clara:
Forget it, Funke. It's high school.

Bobby Funke:
[Narrating] Their alibis were like dutch ovens - gamy, but air tight.

Tad Goltz:
He didn't give you a whole lot? How could he not give you a whole lot? Look at the guy, people love him. He's f***ing JFK, he's smart, he's charismatic, he's good looking, he's a tenacious athlete.

Bobby Funke:
I am sorry, Tad. I didn't realize you felt that way about him. Sad.

Sam Landis:
Let me guess. You finally want to start that boy band you've been dreaming about.

Principal Jared T. Kirkpatrick:
Landis, do I come down to the strip club where you work and knock the dick out of your mouth? Against the wall. You're late.

Francesca Fachini:
Nobody's misunderstood. That's just what people say when they don't like who they are.

High School Student:
Wait, aren't you the freshman they tied to the snowman penis?

Bobby Funke:
Sophomore!

Padre Newell:
[Padre Newell foaming himself while singing in the communal showers. Bobby Funke turns to look at him. Padre sings to Bobby] Buenos diaz senor Funke.

Bobby Funke:
Hey, Francesca.

Francesca Fachini:
Hey, Funke.

Bobby Funke:
So, what are you doing in the men's room?

Francesca Fachini:
[moving close] Well, I thought I might find a man in here. Are you a man, Funke? [laughs] I'm just screwing with you. I just need your help.

Bobby Funke:
With what?

Francesca Fachini:
Whoever stole the SATs. I need you to find them and get them back. I aced that thing, I know it. I was just in the zone.

Francesca Fachini:
I wanted to thank you for finding the SATs. And for showing me what a douche Paul really is. See, the thing is, I seem to have lost my date to homecoming, and I wanted to know if you'd go with me.

Bobby Funke:
You wanna go to homecoming with me?

Francesca Fachini:
Well, not like "go" go. I mean, not like for real.

Bobby Funke:
Yeah.

Francesca Fachini:
It's just everyone already has a date.

Bobby Funke:
Right.

Francesca Fachini:
Except for the mathletes...and maybe that wrestler with the jock itch on his face. So yeah...The only person I can go with is you.

Bobby Funke:
I still don't see why you wanna go with me.

Francesca Fachini:
Yeah, why not? I mean, you're like the school's Wolf Blitzer now.

Bobby Funke:
Wolf Blitzer's like a TV reporter. I'm into Woodward and Bernstein.

Francesca Fachini:
You already have a date?

Bobby Funke:
What? No. I just...

Francesca Fachini:
Great. Then you can pick me up at 8:00. And no wrist corsages. Get the kind with the pin. I don't mind a little prick every once in a while.

Francesca Fachini:
You think I'm a b*tch, don't you? I mean, you can be honest. I don't care either way. I'm just curious. Do you think I'm a b*tch?

Bobby Funke:
[pause] Kind of.

Francesca Fachini:
Seriously?

Bobby Funke:
Well, I mean, no, like I thought you were, but... and then...I don't know. Now, I think that maybe you're just misunderstood.

Francesca Fachini:
Nobody's misunderstood. That's just what people say when they don't like who they are. If you think I'm a b*tch, then I guess it's because I am. But then I guess you're going to have to come to terms with the fact that you're into a girl who's a b*tch.

Ricky Delacruz:
[after Bobby danced with Francesca] Hey, you light on your feet, Funke. That's good.

Bobby Funke:
Thanks.

Ricky Delacruz:
But we notice you having a problem out there.

Bobby Funke:
I do? What?

Ricky Delacruz:
It's your hard-on.

Alex Schneider:
Yeah, that close to a girl like her, it's natural.

Bobby Funke:
I didn't realize it was so obvious.

Ricky Delacruz:
What you're gonna wanna do, okay, is you tuck that thing into the side of your boxer shorts, so it runs down the leg. That way you can contain it. It's like getting a stiff rod when you're taking a dump.

Alex Schneider:
A sh*t boner.

Ricky Delacruz:
Yeah. Then you got to jam it into the bowl like it owes you money. But you don't want to dunk it. It's not a clown. Down!

Alex Schneider:
But you also don't want to get the peepee on your shirt.

Principal Jared T. Kirkpatrick:
It's a no-win situation. At ease, gentlemen. Erections or otherwise.

Francesca Fachini:
I think you need to come home with me.

Bobby Funke:
You know, I'm concerned about the lack of parental supervision at your house.

Francesca Fachini:
Yeah? You want to be my daddy?

Bobby Funke:
Friedrich Nietzsche said, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." But 10 bucks says Nietzsche never got a swirly.

Bobby Funke:
Mathematically, it's a percentage of your life: 4 years, 48 months, 1,461 days. High school is prom, football games, boyfriends, girlfriends, party at the rich kid's house. Fun, simple, wholesome. But it's really anything but. High school might be the least wholesome 4 years of your life. And there's nothing simple about it. High school is ugly, hard and complicated. As complicated as a conspiracy to assassinate the president. A conspiracy about to be uncovered...

Principal Jared T. Kirkpatrick:
[to a security guard] Alright, Mitch, we're looking for weapons, obviously, anything that can kill a student. Knives, guns. But it's not always obvious. [to a student] Are you kidding me? You know the rule about gum! [to a female student] Raise your arms, please. [to the security guard] With the women, you want to use the backs of the hands. The backs of the hands, Mitch. Last rule. Most important rule. You're gonna wanna f*** them. Do not f*** the students, do you understand?

Principal Jared T. Kirkpatrick:
[to Bobby Funke] You seem to be a little foggy as to why I'm here, Mr. Funke. From what I understand, you've made a mockery of this entire high school. You seem to think that this is some kind of circus and that I am some kind of clown. I'm not an effing clown. And I'm not here to bring joy and love and light and laughter into your effing heart! Now I'm going to ask you one more time. And this time I expect an answer. Is...that...gum...in your mouth?