Trailer Park Boys, Season 5 (2005)

Ricky:
I saw Director's Cut, that was fuckin' awesome.

Bubbles:
Ricky, that was Blade Runner: The Director's Cut. That's not the name of the movie.

Terry:
Dennis, what the fuck is going on here?

Dennis:
Terry, can you do me a fucking favour and just chill out a little bit? All right? Everything is under control. Fuck, j-just chill out for a bit. Just sit down or somethin'...

Terry:
Don't point the fucking gun at me!

Dennis:
Put the fucking guns down!

(As the boys continue arguing, Julian unintentionally points the gun at Obaa-Chan as she's walking by with snacks, unaware of--or ignoring--what's going on)

Dennis:
Don't point the gun at my grandmother!!

Julian:
I'm just taking a look at it!

(upon seeing his shed piled with liquor bottles)

Bubbles:
It's a liquor-lanche!

Ray:
Cory and Trevor fucked you guys over big-time, OK? That's what's going on. They fucked you over big-time. They took all your money, it's all gone, you don't own the park, everything is fucking gone. They took everything, boys.

[brief pause]

Ricky:
[dumbfounded] Dad, I don't know if I understand you right here. You're saying Cory and Trevor...th-they fucked up?

Ricky:
(to Lahey when he says he's sorry) Oh, you're fuckin' sorry are you? What do you wanna do, play a big song on the Magdalene? (imitates someone playing a violin with a bow) You're fuckin' sorry? Bullshit you're sorry. (Ricky appears to be confusing a mandolin with Mary Magdalene).

Ricky:
I'm sick of looking after everybody. I mean right now, I mean, everyone's at my Dad's place. Fucking using my car. Now he's borrowing my fucking gun. It's bullshit. You know if he thinks he's better then me, wants to go down, take care of himself then good 'cause I don't want to look after him anymore, and I'll look after myself. And when he gets back here he's gonna see who...fuckin' looks after who...better than...the other person.

Bubbles:
Lucy got fake boobs. I mean...its obvious. I don't mean I was staring at them, but I can't exactly control what direction my eyes go in all the time. I mean obviously she used our money to buy them anyway so, if you think about it, I sorta own one-third of them.

Ricky:
Actually, Sarah, let's go with the milk.

Sarah:
"Let's go with the milk"? What the fuck's that?

Ricky:
Sorry...would you welcome me with a little bit of your precious milk, please? Is that better?

Sarah:
Why, so that you can welcome yourself to all the cereal that I bought?

[Ricky is cooking bacon on the stove in Ray's burnt-down trailer]

Ricky:
Hey, Dad!

Ray:
Hey, buddy.

Ricky:
Cookin' some bacon for you, buddy.

Ray:
Smells good, buddy.

Ricky:
There's only 3 pieces left, but I'll give it to you so long as I can have the grease.

Ray:
You can have the grease, buddy.

Ricky:
Cool.

Ray:
Bacon frying and the sparrows chirpin', Rick. It's all about the bacon and the sparrows, buddy.

Ricky:
Dad, what the fuck are you talking about?

Ray:
I'm talking about the sparrows, Rick. The sparrows in the Bible, buddy. You know, nothing to worry about. I'm not worried, the trailer's burned down, the sparrows aren't worried, nobody's worried.

Ricky:
Sparrows are stupid, Dad. They don't give a fuck about anything.

Ray:
Exactly my point, Rick. Maybe God forgives you for burning down my trailer, Rick. That's the point I'm trying to make this morning.

Ricky:
Does ol' Goddy-boy forgive you for getting lap dances and playing VLTs?

Ray:
I don't...What's your point, Rick? There's nothing wrong with playing VLTs and gettin' drunk.

Ricky:
You want some fuckin' bacon or not?

Ray:
Yes, Rick. I do. Rick, there's another point: We should be thankful for the bacon we're having this morning, because where do you think the bacon came from, Rick?

Ricky:
From a cow.

Ricky:
Hey, Bubbs.

Bubbles:
Hey, Ricky. Holy fuck that bacon smells good! Is there any extra?

Ricky:
Only had a few piece, bud. I gave it to, ah, gave it to the old man.

[Bubbles looks to Ray, Ray shakes his head no]

Ricky:
I'm doin' bread heels and grease, it's pretty good. You want half?

Bubbles:
Of an old bread heel?

Ricky:
Yeah, just dip it in the bacon grease. It's fuckin' awesome.

[Ricky holds out the pan, Bubbles reluctantly dips his half of bread heel in the grease]

Bubbles:
You do it, too. You're not trickin' me, are ya?

[Bubbles takes a bite, a disgusted look crosses his face]

Bubbles:
It's kinda fuckin' dry, Ricky. Have you anything to drink?

Ricky:
A little bit left in that.

[Ricky hands Bubbles a burnt and melted plastic pint of liquor; Bubbles takes a sip and an even more disgusted look crosses his face, he hands it back to Ricky and Ricky downs the rest]

Ricky:
You still pissed off?

Bubbles:
Well, kind of.

Ricky:
The fake check trick works every fuckin' time. Basically, you figure out how much something costs, you just fill out one of the old man's checks like this, and that way if you get caught, you just say everybody who's gonna pay. I mean, mall cops are really dumb compared to real cops, it's gonna be easy. And worst case Ontario, if you get caught, you just cancel the check. You never have to pay. It's awesome!

[Bubbles finds a spacesuit in his rocket kit]

Bubbles:
What's this? HOLY FUCK, a spacesuit! DEE-CENT!!

Ricky:
No way! Fuckin' deck nulls, man! Check those out!

[Julian brings a coffee cup and dog dish to toast with]

Julian:
Drinks, boys! Drinks!

[Ricky takes the dog dish]

Ricky:
Well let's make toast, boys!

Julian:
To a good fuckin' time today.

Bubbles:
This is a good time! (takes a drink) I'm gonna go put my spacesuit on boys, then lets get this dirty cocksucker in the air!

Ricky:
Bubbles, are you sure we gotta play space here? This is kind of stupid.

Bubbles:
Come on, Ricky, look at this! This is awesome! Mission control this is Commander Bubbles. I'm getting an NPS warning light on the link monitor control subsystem. I'm requesting reallocation to main OMS firing to CDS at level six, please advise.

Julian:
Copy there, Commander. Reallocating there, Commander Bubbles.

Bubbles:
Try some, Ricky!

Ricky:
(sighs) Breaker breaker, come in Earth. This is rocket ship 27. Aliens fucked over the carbonator in engine number 4, I'm gonna try to refuckulate it and land on Juniper. Uh, hopefully they got some space weed, over. How's that buddy? I don't fuckin' know!

Bubbles:
Ricky, that's not very good. Use space words, real ones, not talkin' about space weed!

Ray:
Randy, why don't you ask Jim where he's been for the last few nights between three and five or nine and eleven fifteen? Go ahead, ask him where he's going.

Randy:
Well, he's playing bridge at the hospital, Ray!

Ray:
Playin' bridge my arse! He's going down to the strip club gettin' drunk every night and tellin' everyone he's off the booze. And you know why, Randy? Because Jim Lahey is a fuckin' drunk and he always will be!

[Randy grabs Jim's water bottle]

Randy:
Gimme a drink!

Jim:
Randy.

Randy:
Gimme a drink!

Jim:
Let it go, Randy!

[Randy lets go of the bottle and it splashes all over him as Jim pulls away; Randy puts his tongue to the liquid that spilled on his hand]

Randy:
It's vodka!

Jim:
131-proof, straight up. I'm fuckin' wasted!

Ricky:
Dartmouth Regional Vacational School? Julian, are you fucked in the head? I thought we weren't going to fucking high school. I can't go to fucking vacational school.

Julian:
Rick, you're not selling hash in high school, alright? You're old enough to be a teacher in high school, Rick. Think.

Ricky:
Yeah, but the learning thing that you get at fucking spoken out and trying to get up in there and then you gotta. Fuck.

Julian:
Rick, Rick, Rick.

Ricky:
I can't do this, man. My brain doesn't work this way. It's not college level.

Julian:
This is the perfect place to sell hash. We are not gonna get caught. Everything'll be fine. Come on.

Bubbles:
You'll do alright, Ricky.

Julian:
Think about this, think about your daughter, think about Lucy. They're gonna be impressed with you. They're gonna be so fucking proud of you, man Come on, let's go.

Ricky:
Julian, this brain barely got through fucking Grade 7. Well, Julian's been all paranoid lately with fucking Lahey and all these books he's reading, for fuck sakes. He says it's too risky for me to have a bunch of hash on me around schools that do these random searches, so he used this big-smart-thinking stuff to come up with this new plan where basically I just take orders for hash in the daytime, get people's locker number and combinations, then at night, we break in to the school, if there's money in the lockers, we just drop the hash off there. Use the honor Lee system. And hopefully it's gonna work out good. Boys, they're not gonna let me in here. If they do, there's not a fucking chance in hell I'm gonna get a greeting card. Think about it, I'm stupid.

Julian:
Rick, listen to me. Don't let school shit distract you, okay? You're here for one reason and that's to sell drugs, okay? Stay focused, man.

Bubbles:
There's two ways to look at it, really. Either you go to school to learn, or you go to school to sell drugs and Ricky's here to sell drugs. I mean, maybe if it was under different circumstances, he could learn something, but Julian wants him just to sell drugs. It's kind of ironic, really.

Ray:
Low profile, Julian? What, are you reading books again?

Julian:
What's wrong with reading books?

Ray:
Nothing wrong with reading books, but there's only one book that counts, it's the Bible. It says to help your friends.

Julian:
Does it say anything about you ripping off insurance companies, pretend you're in a wheelchair, then getting caught drunk dancing with hos making porn flicks?

Ray:
It's open to interpretation Julian, it's the Bible.

Jim:
You know what a shit barometer is, Bubs?

Bubbles:
No.

Jim:
Measures the shit pressure in the air. You can feel it. Listen, Bubs. Hear that? Sounds of the whispering winds of shit.

Ricky:
What the fuck are you going on about?

Jim:
Can you hear it?

Bubbles:
No, I don't hear anything.

Jim:
Oh, but you will, my sorry little friend, when the ol' shit barometer rises and you'll feel it too. Your ears will implode from the shit pressure. You were warned, Bubs. But you picked the wrong side. Beware, my friend. Shit winds are a-comin'.

Trevor:
What if we drove down midnight pass road?

Cory:
No, man. If we go up this way, we stop at Mimar's Arcade right there.

Ricky:
What the fuck? What him my idiots tell why there's only 10 fuckin' carts left in that truck instead of 20!

Cory:
Yeah. We had to move 10 off.

Ricky:
Oh, you moved 10 off. Did you hear that, Julian? Precious little Cory and Trevor fucked up and took 10 carts off the goddamn load.

Julian:
Your order's for 10 carts, Rick. You fucked up.

Ricky:
What the fuck are you lookin' at, Trevor?

Trevor:
Fucked up, Ricky. You know what else? You're wearing the same dirty clothes since you got out of jail. Fuck up, man.

Ricky:
What did you just say to me?

Bubbles:
Uh-oh.

Ricky:
Knock knock, Trevor.

Trevor:
I'm not gonna say who's there, man.

Ricky:
You just did you fuckin' idiot.

[Ricky rips Trevor's pants]

Bubbles:
Ricky! Ricky!

Trevor:
Those are my new pants!

Cory:
What are you doing?

Bubbles:
Ricky!

[Julian gets out of the car]

Julian:
Boys! Boys! We're supposed to be workin' like a team here! You wanna be on the winning team that makes a shitload of money or do you wanna be on the losing team that goes to jail, Huh? Apologize to him!

Ricky:
I'm not apologizing to him.

Julian:
Cory, move. Apologize to him.

Ricky:
I'm sorry I ripped your pants off, Trevor.

Trevor:
It's alright, Ricky. Shit happens, man.

Ricky:
Do you want your pocket back, Trevor?

Julian:
Here's some gas money. Cory, get over here. Gas money and here's twenty for a new pair of pants.

Trevor:
Thanks a lot, Julian.

Julian:
Alright, no speeding. Put on your seatbelts. Don't fuck around.

Trevor:
See you later, Ricky.

Ricky:
Do a good job, boys.

Bubbles:
Ricky, you ripped his fuckin' pants right off.

Ricky:
I don't know what happened. I'm just so stressed out lately. I fucked up. He was fuckin' standin' up to me though. He better watch himself or he's gonna lose a fuckin' friend. I'll tell you that.

Jim:
Randy... I got one-hundred dollars here for groceries, I got one-thousand and four-hundred dollars here for liquor, and I got six-thousand dollars for you to go and bail out a couple of shit puppets. We might need a couple of more shit puppets for our play, and they gotta be angry shit puppets, Randy. And you gotta make em angry shit puppets, and you say whatever it takes to make them angry, but they're not angry at us Randy. Shit puppets are supposed to be angry at other shit puppets... take the bus.

Randy:
Mr. Lahey, they could kill one another.

Jim:
Wouldn't that be nice?

Randy:
Yeah, but we can't be involved with murder.

Jim:
Exactly, Randy.

Randy:
Mr. Lahey, is this you talking or the liquor?

Jim:
Randy.

[Jim takes a big sip out of his liquor bottle]

Jim:
I am the liquor.

Jim:
Feel that?

Randy:
Feel what, Mr. Lahey?

Jim:
The way the shit clings to the air, Randy.

Randy:
Shit clings to the air?

Jim:
It's already started, my dear good friend.

Randy:
What started, Mr. Lahey?

Jim:
The shit blizzard.

[Jim takes a huge sip out of his liquor bottle]