Original subtitles

When I look back to my Sophomore year in high school,

I was well... a uniquely tragic wreck.

In subsequent time, there have been some friend and foe alike

who have come to question this claim.

But I come armed with proof.

At times like these I like to think about the moments before I go on a roller coaster

& feel the need to emulate announcements one might hear

while waiting in line for such a ride.

Because what you are about to witness is not for the weak-of-heart,

the easily offended or those individuals who suffer from a fragile constitution.

If you fall into any of these categories, I urge you: leave now.

Pregnant women are cautioned as well.

Anyway, that’s me: right there, Chance Marquis.

A name my dear departed mother thought apropos for the gamble she took on having me.

High school is a mess for a lot of us, I realize.

But in comparison to my mess,

you might feel a twinge of guilt for ever thinking your was at all challenging.

After all, everything’s about perspective, is it not?

So allow me to provide you with some...

Oh but this isn’t where my story begins.

It starts one year earlier when I entered Brickland International High School as a transfer.

My fourth school in four years & my first time in Europe.

Keep in mind, this was the 80s.

Sometimes known as the decade fashion forgot.

Like leg warmers, always an essential in getting ready for the first period algebra.

There were also thin ties & mullet haircuts.

In any case, even then I recognized the conformity as tragic.

That one day we’d look back at the parachute pants

& obsession over smears, & ask ourselves...

Why?

But if the fashion was nigh-marish at least the music was good

which provided a fairly accurate sound track to the comic tragedy of my like that was back then.

I was assigned locker No. 13.

It was a bad omen,

& then this:

Within minutes, it was evident,

I was in hell.

... literally.

We’ve got spirit, yes we do.

We’ve got spirit & how about you?!

I think it’s in my locker... trying to get out, apparently.

Faggot.

Oh really no, don’t feel the need to announce your sexual-persuasion for my benefit.

Not me man, You!

I can smell the stench all over you.

It stinks.

Which begs the question: What were you just sniffing to pick up the scent?

Their jock-straps?

[Laughs.]

Listen, here’s the rule Mr. Peanut.

You do not speak to me unless I give you permission.

Do you understand?

I understand.

I’m just not going to comply.

I did not give you permission to speak, homo-breath!

He is making me crabby.

And here I thought that was your natural state...

Aahhh!

Brad, what are you doing?

And who’s he?

Dead meat in about 2 seconds.

Can you like, pull yourself away from your senseless terrorizing?

We need to talk.

Did you ‘like’ get permission?

You better shut it man!

Oh my god, is he ranging again?

You shut it too, Rachel!

Brad, Brad... come on, lets go.

Im telling you, if we didn’t walk out, he’s history.

Brad Harden, & cronies.

I would ruminate more, but we’ll just let Brad read his own lines,

only in the more Neanderthal manner befitting his ‘character’.

Are you Chance Marquis?

The one & only.

Great.

I’m Loretta Getzick, Devil’s Advocate Senior Sports Editor...

And you’re on my team.

Um, I don’t really do sports.

I know that most baseball uniforms are inexplicably made of a cotton-polyester blend,

but that’s about the extent of it.

Ah, you’ll learn then.

We have an open slot & Ms. Cotlebeck assigned you.

Well, is Ms. Cotleeehh... unaware of my knack for covering the day-today antics of Rosemary Clooney?

Or my witty commentary on student fashion tragedies?

It was all in my resume...

I really have no idea what you’re talking about, nor do I care.

Joe, Five hundred words on the newest swim-team member Sara Bagshawe.

Is that a Dolphin in Our Pool?

Kimmy, in-depth interview with Rhycken Frewman, The Team Mascot.

Some art students made a new devil head for the costume.

‘Too Scary or Too Merry?’

And a big Brickland’s Devil Times welcome to...Chance!

Full feature on the varsity football team.

I know!

We're going to see what he's made of.

In-depth interviews with players, coaches and fans.

'Is this the year we win it all?'

Of what?

Hank Hudson, Staff Photographer.

Loretta Go-Get-Em assigned me to snap some shots for your football piece.

Where do you want to start?

Over.

Let me ask you staff-photographer-Hank-Hudson

do you have knowledge of this, football?

football?

Footoo...

Well, I know that when they play it in America they call it soccer

but it looks the same.

Oh, and if you touch the ball with your hands, they kick you out.

Forever.

Or do they make you a goalie...?

What's in your case?

What's in yours?

I don't have one.

One what?

Freak.

But curiously enough, I was warming up to him.

Huh!

Huh!

Huh!

Take a picture, it'll last longer.

If that was her way of making a witty first impression,

then my guess was that the pole too tied pony tail

was cutting the blood flow to her brain.

I don't 'do' tennis.

Forty-love and deuce and shit.

No wonder the British lost, can't even figure out how to score stuff.

The origin of scoring is French actually, bastardized into English.

Deuce for instance, being a corruption of 'deux', meaning two consecutive exchanges needed to win.

Now 'love' is either a vulgarism of the word l'oeuf...

Please, your dorkiness was established with the top-hat and cane.

Look, Heretic can't see over to this backstop.

Which means I don't have to hit a stupid ball against a wall for forty-five minutes.

So fascinating!

Heretic?

Coach Hera.

The troglodyte from sex-reassignment hell.

Really?

She was a he?

In actuality,

who the hell knows?

But in my made-up reality, yes!

Well, I'm Chance.

Your reality just might fascinate me.

Twyla.

And your pasty-white legs definitely repulse me.

If the shorts weren't so dark, the contrast would be lessened.

Ergo, my legs would not appear so falsely pale.

You don't have many friends, do you Chance?

I just moved here.

So far, I hate it.

Not likely to change.

(P.A.) Chance Marquis, please report to Administration.

Now.

Admin’s that way...

Chance Marquis...

Vice Principal Ophelia Smelker.

As disturbing as she is in person as she appears in her photos, & quite possibly the most odorous

human I’ve ever encountered... & not in a pleasing way.

Remove the hat, please.

Looking over your file here...

Transfer records, report cards, personal items.

Why aren't you enrolled in our mixed choir?

Polyps.

I beg your pardon.

Polyps.

On my vocal cords.

I can't sing until they heal.

What about surgery?

Its against our religion.

Which is...?

Not to be discussed.

Your permanent records show, among other things, instances of misbehavior, insubordination

and episodes of... 'Channeling deceased torch singers

such as Rosemary Clooney, Dionne Warwick and Ethel Merman.'

Care to explain that one?

I'd rather not, it's personal.

And quite frankly, I don't remember because I'm not ‘au courant’ when it happens.

There's one thing you will have to explain: your locker.

Destruction of school property is a severe offense.

As it should be.

But my question to you would be this:

what branch of logic do you cleave to that would explain why I, would destroy my own locker?

The first day of school is often filled with rage.

Especially for transfer students...

V-P Smelker runs a tight ship here at Brinkman High.

Her tolerance is low for wise-acres.

And even lower for... weirdoes.

CAPEESH?!

I was unaware that overweight women from the Eastern block used words like 'capeesh'.

Then Mrs. Zito split us into groups.

I'm in the 'Alligators' for math and science.

And where do these Alligators rank?

Starts with an 'A', Sir.

Duh!

Tippy-top.

Outstanding.

Excellent!

Why is that on the table?

Chance wore it at school today.

What next, a dress?

My dad.

A man who never met a rule he didn't try out at least once... or a firearm.

What kind of reaction do you get when you show up with something like that on?

It varies.

People behind me get upset because they can't see the blackboard,

Due to the hat.

Mostly, they just miss the point.

Which is what, exactly?

That my chosen expression of individualism should be embraced, not ridiculed.

Someone hit him in the head with a tennis ball.

Then he got sent to the Vice Principal.

After a bully called him a homosexual.

Sienna, my real sister with the fake accent.

I tell her everything and quite often live to regret it.

Why did they sent you to the principal’s office for that?

Long story.

She already has it out for me though.

She's also the largest woman I've ever seen, like Circus-large.

I’m sure if she were to grow a beard, which I’m quite certain she’s capable of...

Chance, understood.

Huh!

Sounds like you have a rough day, Cadet.

But I think you have forgotten rule number 1, which is when kids are call you names,

you stand up for yourself. Like a man.

I think you need more R-T-T.

Retrograde Tactical Training?

Roger that.

What did you enjoy most about that?

Jujitsu.

Hai!

When I was nine.

'Kids' aren't calling me names.

One of them, Brad Harden, called me 'homo-breath,' but he started off with ‘faggot’.

Chance, you know I don't like to hear that word in this house.

As opposed to just living with one?

Getting settled in?

Listen Chance, a unit is only as strong as its weakest link.

It's my job to shore up the links.

Do you understand?

Chance, understood?

Lights out soon.

(I said come back here right now.)

(Don’t walk away from me, were not done discussing this!)

(Well I’m done discussing it!)

(Didn’t you ever think that playing football is not the answer for everything?)

(Then explain to me how you are going to pay for your tuition!)

(How are you gonna pay for your studies?!)

(You think its me who’s gonna pay for that!)

(I don’t care, I’ll think of something out!)

(Don’t blow this football scholarship Lee.)

(Start figuring that out and soon!!)

Sometimes life has a strange way of giving you EXACTLY what you want...

And then making you pay, dearly.

Ohh!

So, does your dad keep like, guns and artillery in your home?

Uh, affirmative.

The hand-grenades are stored in the dining buffet & he only loads the semi-automatics,

but we feel very safe.

Are you trying to piss me off on purpose?

Because sittin' here, you two losers is doing nothing for my reputation.

And for the record: You are poison.

And... You're plain toxic.

For your reputation from what I observe is pretty much non-existent.

So by being seen with us, you at least have fumes of relevance.

It’s a step up in my book.

Do you smell that?

Students...

On the bench Ms. Turner.

Tables are not chairs.

Mr. Hudson, open your briefcase please.

Why?

A general inspection.

This is private property.

That's illegal search and seizure.

Not on this campus.

This school is beholden to a different law: V-P Smelker's law.

OPEN IT!

What happened to your eye?

Nothing, why do you inquire?

Could you move those?

Ahh, I missed the first two days of class...

Ms. Hughes said you were the only solo left.

Guess that makes us lab partners.

I pride myself on being the last chosen not only in sports, but in combustible experiments as well.

I’m Levi.

Chance Marquis.

Chance.

C-H-A-N-C-E Chance.

I think we're neighbors...

I don't suppose you would believe that I have an identical twin brother.

Who looks exactly like me...

I can show you how to rig your cable box for the porn channels.

Hey, forget about it – I already have. Okay?

I wish my ex-girlfriend looked at me like that a couple of times, though.

What happened to your eye?

Nothing.

Why?

Hey, Cinderfella, the women's locker room is on the other side.

Oh! Um...

Listen up Sporty-type-fellas.

Look, I’m doing a piece of the team for the paper & was really really hoping for some interviews?

Hey! Hey! Hey!

You breakin' my no-talk rule again?

Why do you have to defy me? Huh?!

Call me a masochist.

I'll call you a douche-bag,

cause that's what you are.

Listen up!

As the team captain, I'm giving a direct order here.

Nobody talks to this douche-bag about our team. You got it?

Not one word, okay?

How come?

Well, you see Gus man... that's why I'm here.

To think when your brain pauses.

You don't want homosexuals inside your head.

Give 'em a crack, they'll slip right in and before you know it you're listenin' to 'Sister Christian'

and jerking off to pictures of Patrick Swayze!

Night Ranger's gay?

Well, who knows man, but that fuckin' song is!

Patrick Swayze pictures?

Or Rick Springfield, you know, whoever!

Look, the point is... he'll just write some girlie article

that'll make us look like... girls!

Sorry fruit-fly.

But, that's the way the fudge is packed.

Why do you let him call you those names?

Well, where I to show anger and or agitation over his derogatory comments regarding what I am,

I bequeath him power, no?

And I've deduced that since Brad's intelligence hovers only slightly above that of burnt toast,

why give him that kind of control over me?

The 'Split Infinitives' ladies and gentlemen.

Not bad, huh?

A back-beat would help.

Drummer's taking a leak.

What'd you think?

Ahh...

I think, Foreigner songs are better left to... Foreigner?

That wasn’t Foreigner.

Do you ever cover the Carpenters?

Karen has a lovely voice.

Hey! What's the faggot doing here?

Your band is dreadful.

But they're actually a lot better without you!

A real cute kid.

Take a chill-pill, you'll totally smell her before she gets more than fifty yards.

A hundred if we're downwind.

She is in my nightmares.

She is my nightmares...

Hey, you guys wanna go into the city this weekend?

I have this day long photo project, what I have to do, see, is

- take a picture every hour of the same thing and... - Okay

We'll go.

And for future reference, we don't care that much about your photo projects.

So fascinating!

Can I just ask: what's proper protocol should this vehicle spontaneously combust?

Look Prince Weird-Clothes, if his highness would rather walk, I can pull over right now.

Zip it...

Finally.

Can we do something interesting now?

I thought we were.

Do we look interested?

It's sort of hard to tell, cause the two of you never look interested in anything.

I have an idea...

I’m just not sure if you two are man enough...

Are you?

Agreed. Stupid question.

Of course you are. Sir.

C'mon girls.

This looks like a nice upscale neighborhood.

- Look out for the curve... - Relax. I'm parking

Those things will kill you.

Much like dark alleys that way.

Club Red & Blue.

Twenty-one and over.

So we're going in the side entrance.

With what?

A battering ram and fake police badges?

C’mon, just follow me.

What kind of club is this?

You’ll see.

Hey Sasha.

Hi Twyla, how are you?

I'm sixteen, in high school, and I got two losers in tow.

Life continues to suck big ostrich eggs.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

You lost, sweetie?

Help me with this dress, will you.

So schoolboy, how do they call you?

Chance Marquis.

Claire Vuoyant.

What a fabulous name.

Give my regards to the angel who named you.

That would be my dear-departed mother.

May she rest in peace.

Claire Vuoyant, I like it.

I can see queerly now!

So, how old are you?

Ahh... Twenty-two.

Yeah, right.

Six years from now maybe.

Huh!

You don’t bullshit a drag, especially one named for her precognitive powers.

It only leads to heartache and a sore rear.

I think we're scaring Oliver Twist here, ladies!

I'm not scared.

Good, because if a little glitter and a fabulous dress get your britches in a twist,

you'll positively faint when Lily Pad over there, takes her thong off.

You were great out there tonight.

Thank you Rex Reed.

Oh, don’t mention the hair?

The dress?

The dress was a star tonight!

The whole package was astounding.

Well, if done correctly, the package was invisible.

Where's Chance?

He was right behind me.

Go find him!

What're you going to do?

Wait. Have a cigarette.

Ponder why dweebs are drawn to me.

Well, you don't learn it, per se.

It's more like... it just pops out one day.

Then you refine.

Find the right dress, right song, perfect name, and then you practice till your feet bleed.

Bitch, your feet wouldn't bleed if you'd admit to their actual big-ass largeness

and stop wearing size-sixes.

Lily, until you stop menstruating, talk to the hand!

You're all so sassy and sarcastic.

But no one retaliates in a truly harmful way.

I saw that bitch!

Don't make me replace your crack with baking soda!

Chance?

Here, you should try it some time.

I think you'd be a natural.

Just remember Chance, this is an illusion.

You have to make everyone believe.

Starting with yourself.

No-no, if you wait to jump a half- second longer,

the frog can make it across in a straight shot.

- Hey, Tinkerbell! - But...

So how's the story going now?

You want a quote?

Yup.

Some day soon, when you least expect it,

I am gonna totally kick your fairy ass.

Brad, can we go?

Just screwing with him baby, just screwing with him.

Hmmm.... peanuts, thank you.

- You familiar with the concept of REVENGE? - Yeah.

Ever since Judy Hatteberg appropriated my chalk in kindergarten.

She paid...

You’re a shark, and Brad's your remora, suctioned to you tighter than spandex on David Lee Roth.

So there's only one thing to do: grab it by the tail, rip it from your flesh

and then SMASH IT!

High school is like Darwinism in a test- tube: survival of the fittest.

Only here, since Brad outweighs you by fifty pounds, fit equals smart.

Hey Chance,

you still need someone to interview for your story?

Why?

Did you take pity on me and convince your best friend and favorite drummer, Brad Harden,

to sit for an interview.

Brad hates you.

Besides, the only thing that convinces Brad of anything is Brad.

Or Toni.

But even then, it's only when she's denying him sex.

Anyway, I was thinkin' you could interview me.

I hate to point out the fact that you might be as dense as a redwood Levi,

but I need to talk to someone who actually plays on the team. Ergo, not you.

I appreciate the insult.

What insult?

I'm a first-string Forward.

Haven't been practicing cause of a knee injury.

But it should be okay by the season opener.

Wait, wait... What?

And you're getting around to telling me this now?

I thought you'd appreciate the, you know... dramatic pause.

Why?

Aren't your people all into drama and stuff?

You are so correct, right up there with gingham and party-planning.

My 'people' are also into the fashionably ironic, but I make an exception in your case.

Hey!

I can be ironic!

Dang, is this inside out?

What's your favorite kind of music?

I like lots of music.

Correction.

I love music.

When is your band playing next?

"Seventh annual Battle-of-the-High- School-Bands.

The winner gets one week free studio time, and

a guaranteed listen of their music by some hotshot London music producer.

Pretty sweet, huh?

I think we have a real shot.

Who, 'we'?

The Split-Infinitives!

We're gonna rock the shit.

Can I be honest with you Chance?

Music is my life.

It's everything.

I can feel it, in my soul. You know?

Well, can I be honest with you?

From what I heard, your band is...

how best to put this: God-awful.

Fetid.

Pedicular.

And by Pedicular I mean lousy.

I don't expect you to get it.

People who feel the music, who can't live without it, they get it.

Besides, we'll get better.

Levi-- oh, didn't know you had company.

This is Chance. He lives next door.

How's the knee, you run today?

Chance is writing an article on the team for the school paper.

That right?

Lee's the best!

He's gonna have U.S. university recruiters salivating over him this year,

right Lee?

Right dad.

The rain in Spain flows mainly in the plain...

Braid my hair?

'Split Infinitives'

that's a stupid name for a band, I think.

You're a way better singer than he is.

How is it you state things with such atypical certainty and authority?

And in such a flawless, bogus accent?

Like you know exactly what everyone should be doing...

or what they should be.

Not what, who.

For instance, I am a beauty queen.

Do I push that away?

No, I embrace it.

And mastering this accent is the final piece in the puzzle

that is Ms. U.K. Junior twelve-and-under.

Everyone should embrace who they are.

Including you.

Well you'll learn that, as you get older, you actually know less about who you are.

That's just silly talk.

I know who you are. And what you should be.

There you go.

Thanks!

Bee-rilliant!

Ah, you really came through, Chance.

Good job!

Hank, your photos are totally wicked!

I think the team's going to read this and be inspired.

It's going to be a good season!

They're going to blow.

Most assuredly.

Good to have your bender back.

Yeah.

So ahh...

Bro, I gotta ask, what were you thinking?

You know. Talkin' to that jack-off for his story?

It's just a stupid article, who cares?

Well, everyone man.

And now it's in print.

Forever.

Look, I don't know if you noticed lately, but we are the shit around here.

Gods man, and I've worked way too hard to let you throw it away

by hanging with some lunatic-fringe fairy-queen.

He's turning you into a joke, Levi.

And you don't even see it.

You give him too much credit.

No. The credit's all yours!

Stay away from him, man.

Is that a threat?

What're you looking for?

A little peace and quiet.

This was her favorite.

It's beautifully crafted.

Look at the beading detail.

A timeless fashion.

Exquisite...

Why are you looking through mom's old dresses?

Don't you have a tiara to polish?

Hey Levi, I wanted to say thanks again, for aiding me with my article.

I thought you might like some of Hank's pictures of you at soccer practice...

Uh, hello?

Thanks, but I'll pass.

Chance do you have a...

Close the door!

It's not bad...

Have you ever heard of lip-liner...

Hello? If Cyndi Lauper can manage it, so can you.

And your foundation's a tad uneven.

Is this your outfit for school tomorrow?

You're going to enter?

Teenagers get to do all the fun stuff.

I don’t know how much fun it'll be, after ten minutes in heels.

I can show you wear to put band-aids.

They'll keep your feet from blistering.

Hey, don’t tell anyone about this.

Especially not Sir.

If anyone I know sees me like this, I am done for.

No matter how well I pull it off.

Jesus, Mary and Commander-in-Chief Ronald Reagan! What the hell are we doing here?!

Is that your mother's dress?

It shouldn't go to waste.

I did his make-up.

You did a very nice job, honey...

Okay.

He wanted to spare your feelings, but truthfully, I could tell;

he thinks your eye shadow is too dark.

Doesn't anyone never knock in this house?

Debbie-Gibson-Red is definitely your color.

Stay calm.

Sasha means well. He thinks he can find for every queen her name and inner 'song'.

It only should take a second.

Pepper Madison.

Dancing Queen!

Are you sure?

Listen to me Pepper, if you sing 'Dancing Queen' you will be the star performer of the night.

I might even make you a regular.

I didn't practice Dancing Queen.

Don't worry, Sasha means well but he's a little funny in the head.

He always want us to sing 'Dancing Queen.'

Are you nervous?

A little bit...

Yeah...

Okay, a lot of it.

Don’t worry, butterflies are good.

But think about this, failure is not an option.

And whatever you do tonight don’t turn on the mic.

Ok?

But you’ll be a star tonight.

Claire Vuoyant everyone... always so hard to top.

In fact, I have it on good authority that her ass is tattooed: 'No Entry.'

'For eight inches and under.'

Okay, let's keep this train-wreck of a night going.

Next up is a first-timer, so ladies, keep those where they belong,

Here she is: Lucky Chance!

♫ I was born to run, I was born to dream. ♫

♫ Craziest boy you’ve ever seen, I’ve gotta do it my way, or no way at all... ♫

♫ And I was here to please, I’m even on my knees. ♫

♫ Making love to whoever I please, I’ve gotta do it my way, or no way at all. ♫

♫ And then you came around, try to tie me down. ♫

♫ I was such a clown, You had to have it your way, or no way at all. ♫

♫ Why don’t you turn me loose, turn me loose, turn me loose. ♫

♫ I’ve gotta have it my way, or no way at all... ♫

♫ Why don’t you turn me loose, turn me loose, turn me loose. ♫

♫ I’ve gotta have it my way, or no way at all... ♫

What's going on?

The Split Infinitives have officially... split.

Grammar police cracking down?

Look Chance, I don't mean to be a jerk or nothing—

But you decided to be one anyway.

Listen, I can't really hang with you anymore.

My dad's being a hard- ass about football, and concentrating on getting a scholarship.

That's why he made you give up the band?

What happened to your, 'music is my life' mantra?

Well, like you said, we're, what was it, pedicular?

So no big loss.

A meteor could hit earth, causing you to get better.

I think I saw it once, in an Ed Wood film.

I know the real reason you don't want to be seen with me.

It's not what you think.

I don't care that you dig guys.

I believe that.

You do care if other people think you do,

by way of association.

I never realized Brad had so much sway over you.

Usually the drummer is the most expendable.

Look, I don't expect you to get it.

There's a news flash.

You don't expect me to get much, do you?

Continually underestimating me for some unknown reason.

You're not really as complicated as you think you are.

How the hell would you know?

Cause I'm a teenager too.

And infinitely more complicated than you.

Is that so?

I don't see any dresses in your closet.

It's okay.

Guys like you are never friends with the likes of me.

So in that regard, you turned out true to form.

Ouch.

Someday, you'll have to stand up to people.

People like Brad... like your father.

Eventually even to yourself.

So, how’s your revenge on Brad plan coming?

Yeah, watcha got?

A headache.

Besides, I think he's forgotten about me.

I'm off his radar.

He's on to—

Jerk!

Hey!

Look Hoopy,

it ain't my fault his big fat face got in the way. Okay?

Hey! Marquis,

next time, duck.

Like the chicken you are.

That makes no sense.

On a pure poultry level.

Hey! Jimmy Olsen, no one's talking to you.

Why are you so angry all the time?

What did I even do to you?

Invaded my school.

I mean. Your presence alone is enough to make me wanna puke.

Don't you get it? Man!

You don't belong here.

So leave.

Fairy Academy's back in the states,

they're waiting for you.

Let's go man.

Forget about it man, well beat him up tomorrow.

So, what was that all about being' off his radar'?

A man can't go on like this.

Or you, even.

Do something!

I know why he's so angry all the time.

This plan is unwise.

Not to mention, uncouth.

It's high-risk, I agree.

Grow some balls, both of you.

And stop talking like a forty year- old British fop.

It's bizarro.

If I do like this--

Abort.

And if I do this—

Then the abort is off and we're back on.

But then, if I do...

Mr. Samsonite, shut it!

Okay, Air Craft Carrier Smelker has passed.

C'mon!

I need to see the nurse,

I'm dying.

Not before I get a petition form.

The food at this institution is not fit for sub-species consumption, let alone humans.

One at a time, boys please, I'm alone here.

Are you okay?

Oh my God!

What's wrong with him?

You know I'm certainly no medical expert. But from the looks of it,

I'd say... He's dying!

It's moved from his throat!

Maybe a it's parasite.

I'm calling the nurse!

Don't leave me!

Not yet!

I see the light... Twyla?

Chance?

Twyla?

Don’t lave me here alone...

Stay away from the light...

Stay away from the light...

Mom, is that you?

I have to go...

I think he's trying to confess.

Are you properly trained in the giving of last rites?

- No? - Oh no!

Don’t go Hank, don’t go...

GO!

Huh, he was so sweet...

I’m Okay...

Whats happening here?

Allergies. They come and go.

You were very comforting though.

Oh, you know on second thought, the food is just fine.

You got the combination?

She might smell, but at least her files are organized.

So, when do we do it?

After school.

We just broke into the Vice Principal's office!

Knowing Smelker, she could parlay that into my beheading.

Dammit Marquis, don't wussy out on me.

Or do you like getting smacked in the face by balls?

Don't answer that.

All I'm trying to say, if you want Brad to keep wailing on you, then fine--

Wait, wait, NO!

Lets see what’s in his locker first, then I’ll decide.

Someone loves himself...

Hey! Wait up...

What’s that?

The holy grail...

'Roid rage.

He's been on it for at least a year.

How did you know all this?

Toni Durazo, his fetching girlfriend, sits next to me in photo.

Her best friend, Rachel is behind me and when notes pass, I'm the go- between.

Sometimes they don't bother to fold them.

And this one time, Toni asked me—

Okay, got it.

You can read and you have a hard-on for Toni. So fascinating!

What do we do now? Exactly...

What do we do now?...

A student taking steroids...

We blow the whistle.

Brad gets caught red handed & BOOM!

Expulsion.

Poof!

Gone from Brickland like a bad case of ringworm.

It's so perfect, makes me want to cry...

How?...

Does it go down, I mean?

Go down?...

An anonymous tip.

Seize the day, Chance.

Rid our society of pond-scum like Brad Harden.

Opportunities like this don't come along every day. So remember,

it's survival of the smartest.

I know where you live, dorkus.

Hey, lighten up.

I don't really think you're a dorkus.

I know you don't.

Why is it you so often forget my superior intellect

and superior ability to process your rudimentary attempts at sarcasm and—

Shut it! Before I purposely drive into a pole.

So, uhmm...

when did you know you were,

you know...

A homosexual?

I don't know. When did you know you were a breeder?

Still not completely sure if I am.

I've set for eighteen-to-twenty three to be my 'experimental years.'

I have a plan.

Four.

Four what?

When I was four,

my dearly-departed mother took me to a production of The Nutcracker.

It was colorful, and dramatic and the music was great.

But one thing held my attention above all else:

a dancer.

Male.

Shirtless - for the entire play.

I couldn't stop looking at him.

Of course, I really didn't understand why then. But,

I do now.

Very touching Marquis.

Excuse me while I vomit.

Look, I don't care if you're gay,

but most people at school do. So,

it's just...

if that alone makes you such a huge target,

why do you give 'em more ammo by acting and dressing the way you do.

Well,

if you have the choice between being ostracized for wearing a weird hat,

or being gay...

which one would you pick?

Thanks for the ride home.

And thanks for looking out for me.

I loved your football pictures in the paper.

You did?

Thanks.

Can I see?

Umm...

Sure.

These are great.

Who is this, your sister?

Not exactly...

Is that...

Chance?

Yeah!

We went to this club in the city

and he performed with a bunch of other drag queens.

It was great!

He was awesome!

Did you take these for the school paper?

No.

I'm just developing them for Chance.

I mean,

I don't think he really wants anyone to know, you know?

Oh sure, yeah.

His secret's safe with me.

Umm...

Hey, do you have any high-gloss paper I could borrow?

Sure...

Oh, I left it in the classroom.

I'll go get it.

All I know is I didn't risk my life

sneaking into Smelt-her's office to get information

that you're not even gonna use now!

But, I continue to appreciate both your creation of the plan

and its stealth-like deployment.

Yours is a leadership even my father would hold dear.

But I have to point out that you didn't actually risk your life.

Have you ever been in that office?

It took everything in me to avoid asphyxiation.

Point taken.

So you're just going to let Brad keep beating on you?

UHH! Ahh!

Look,I've been in these situations before. Eventually Brad will just

get tired of me and move on to a helpless Freshman.

Puppies.

And speaking frankly?

Tattle- taleing is beneath me. And you for that matter.

- He's not going to move on, Chance. - UHH!!

I know his kind.

Brad's like a cat toying with a mouse before going in for the kill.

You act like none of this stuff bothers you, like it's a nuisance.

You talk a good game.

It even made me think that you were strong

- like everyone underestimates you.

But that's all it is: talk.

You're a coward, Chance.

A mouse.

Brad's mouse.

Marquis you're out!

Oh man, Boy-George is so going to wish he never stepped foot in this school...

Hey cadet,

come on in here.

I thought we could do this together.

Huh!

You gotta get tough, Chance.

It's the only way you'll survive in life.

Did it ever occur to you that maybe, I'm already tough?

What?

- No, I just mean— - I didn't think so.

But then again , why would you

when you've spent your entire adult life being trained to

discern only that which is directly in front of your face.

So when you look at me, all you see is everything you aren't.

And would never want to be.

You don't see strength,

just cowardice and, let's face it, a big fag!

So if you’ll excuse me, I have a field of daisies where I would go frolic through!

What'd I tell you about using that word in this house!

Hey, my girlfriend needs to borrow some lipstick, can you help her out?

Someone must have swiped it.

Perceptive beyond belief...

It's impossible. I was extra careful. No one even saw them except for--

Oh...

Oh...

Before you say anything,

just remember, she's very fetching.

And I'm a teenager. In high school. Who's not having sex.

You showed these to Toni Durazo!?

She's Brad's girlfriend, you idiot!

What are you, sniffing photo chemicals again?!

It's like a voodoo spell, I think...

Look on the positive side, it's definitely one of my better shots.

Ow!

It'll blow over.

I don't know if you've noticed, but this is high school.

Things don't 'blow over' here. They stay with you. Forever.

Like low self-esteem.

May I take this opportunity that an anonymous phone call is still very much an option.

The cat is no longer toying, and its teeth are in the mouse's neck.

It's not how I fight my battles.

This isn’t just going to go away....

C'mon Marquis, English Lit rates at least a ballroom gown, man.

So exactly how mad does your mom get when you steal her bras? Huh?

Or her tits, for that matter.

Shut up!

You do this sort of thing often?

One time.

That's all it usually takes.

They can't handle this, you know...

The students here.

They tolerate the misfits among them, but if you rub their faces in it...

it's too much for the hormone-engorged teenager to deal with.

So now what?

You need to find a way for them to handle it.

Otherwise, I don't really see a future for you here at Breckland.

This'll excuse you for the rest of the week.

Use the time to think.

We'll have the flyers removed.

Where's your brother?

Said he's not feeling well.

Hi...

Is, uh, Chance around?

Who're you?

He's Chance's ex-friend from next door.

He has his own band.

Chance is upstairs.

Here to revel in Brad's victory?

Kind of a tough day, huh?

Oh, why? Were you tarred and feathered too? I hadn't noticed.

Look,

I'm the first to admit Brad crossed a line.

What he did was...

Expose me for who I really am?

Maybe I should be thanking him.

It might surprise you Levi, but I'm not ashamed of what happened.

If you say so.

It just sorta looked that way when you were ripping those flyers off the walls.

So now everyone thinks I'm ashamed of the fact I dressed in drag.

Like it was some horrible secret.

When the truth is, the guy who's been going to school every day? He's the lie.

Why do I let it be okay for people to think less of me?

For my friends to just decide to no longer be my friends.

I take all of it...

and I try to rise above it.

But I don't think you're supposed to do that in high school.

Nothing heroic ever came of 'rising above it.'

Hey! What do you write in that?

My brilliant and insightful thoughts.

And some poems, song lyrics—

Lyrics?

You write songs?

What!?

C'mon. Suddenly you're shy?

I thought they were brilliant and insightful.

They are.

And potentially highly embarrassing.

Hey, you know what?

Why don't we write a song.

I'll do the music, you write the lyrics.

Okay...

I thought your dad banned music from your heart.

Oh yeah, that.

Well, it's like you said, I'll have to stand up to him someday.

So...

screw Lawrence and his scholarships.

So...

are we cool?

Chance?!

Is your brother really sick?

Okay, what’s the deal?

Apparently his entire school found out he dressed up in drag and performed at a club.

What!?

Then they put his picture on a bunch of flyers

labeling him an embarrassment to all that is held holy in the high school male.

Huh!

Why can't you kids have normal problems?

Like acne.

Time for School.

Well, he's not at the loser-table,

he wasn't in Lit...

Looks like Operation: Get-Rid-Of-Fag, worked.

Stop calling him that.

What'd you say Sparks?

This wasn't cool.

If he wants to dress up like a girl, that's his business.

How'd you like it if everyone knew you fooled around with Kenny Ellis in sixth grade?

So tell me Sparks,

when exactly did you suddenly grow a pair? huh?

When I figured out you don't really have friends.

Just subjects who live in fear of you.

You don't want to do this, man.

Trust me, you don't want to go there with me.

You know what Brad,

I feel sorry for you.

Because right here, right now...

this is the best it'll ever be for you.

Well, you never were too bright.

Take your best shot.

Brad!

Are you okay?

Yeah, that's what I thought would happen.

Are you looking for something?

An inspiration...

You know Chance, there’s a link between inspiration and perspiration.

What you need is focus.

How about I send you back Stateside. I found a military academy in the mid west...

Please,

just stop.

I’ll never gonna understand you the way your mother did. I know that.

Well, I don’t need you to.

Then, what do you need?

For you to stop running this house like a military operation.

We are not a team, we’re a family.

Sienna and I are not your soldiers, cadets.

We’re your kids.

No kid I know enjoys discipline. I’m not gonna apologize for that.

I’m not talking about discipline.

I don’t mind rules.

You need to let me be what I wanna be.

I think I do.

Except every time you look at me, all I see is you wishing I were someone else.

Anyone else.

Nothing about me makes you proud.

How would you know that?

Because every time you look at Sienna, I see exactly what that pride looks like.

Put these stuff away when you’re done.

What!?

Have you talked to Chance,

cause he won't return our calls.

Yeah, we need to make sure he didn't kill himself.

You're a photographer, right?

What gave it away?

Who are you?

We're scared of her.

Meet me at here after school today.

Bring that.

Can we stop following him now?

Okay, c’mon.

Hey guys!

What’s this?

New band:

Dramatic Pause.

Chance is our lead singer.

Wow! That's neat.

We need band photos - for flyers and stuff.

Can you do it?

Yeah, sure I can.

We're competing at battle of the bands.

We require a manager.

Interested?

Manager?

You're a high-school band doing Toto covers.

Badly.

What you really need is to be put out of your misery.

I'm in.

Cool.

Ooh. This is a whole lot of people!

Hahaha!

Oh, hey! Listen, I arranged for some insurance to make sure Dramatic Pause stand out—

You bought off the judges?

No, even better—

You... killed the judges?

Will you shut up and listen.

Where's Chance?

With you...?

Weren't you picking him up?

What are we supposed to do if Chance doesn’t show?

Hi Lawrence.

Do you know about that?

When did all this happen?

It's been brewing for the past two weeks or so.

Levi and Chance wrote a song together.

Any good?

Haven't heard it yet.

Look, Levi's grounded, and now he's gone.

And I'm willing to bet your son has something to do with that.

I wanna talk to him right now—

Chance isn't here.

His band goes on at five.

Can we go?

Get your coat.

But wait, I have to go change first.

You know what someone should really to invent?

Portable phones.

C'mon, let's go and see if we can find him.

You go over there and you check right there. Okay?

Chance!

You go look up there.

Chance?!

Maybe its better if we split up...

Chance!

Where were you?

We were starting to think you bailed.

Oh look, it's Flock-of-Faggots.

What're you playing, Disco Up The Ass?

Have you seen Levi anywhere?

I don’t see either of them.

Is that Chance over there?

Look at them, they’re spectacular!

What are you doing up here?

Nice introduction, your idea?

I can't go on...

Why?

What's wrong?

Stage fright is my best guess.

Or an intestinal parasite.

Ladies...

Okay you hormonal mess of a crowd,

are you ready for the next band!?

Please welcome my Rockettes!

What the hell is that!?

A chorus line, duh!

Aren’t they fabulous?

I said, aren't they FABULOUS!

Listen to me.

If singing in a dress and high-heels in front of two-hundred drunks doesn't prepare you for this,

then nothing ever will.

This is cake!

You don't understand,

pretending to be someone else is easy.

It's just an act, a dress-up.

I can hide behind top hats...

I thought you were done hiding.

Don't you want them to see the real Chance?

Just go out there and sing.

Great advice.

Besides, if they're gonna throw anything, it'll be at Levi and his lousy guitar playing.

Just stand up to all of 'em.

Now's your chance.

Stand up.

So I want you all to put your hands together for this next band.

It’s led by a close personal friend of mine.

And honeys, if you like good music, you can turn on the radio after the concert.

In the meantime, here they are, in all their oxy-cream glory:

The Dramatic Pause!

Mr. Harden...

I want a word with you.

Care to explain?!

Why didn’t you tell me you have a band?

I don’t think you’re ready for another singer in the family.

Well, maybe you should let me decide what I may or may not be ready for.

But thanks for looking out for me.

I got your back.

I'm sorry I haven't always had yours.

You were great out there today, son.

You know they have bands in the army...

Think about it.

Go.

Expelled?

As in, total expulsion?

And the best part is, the idiot practically turned himself in.

Started raging at a practice while Smelt-her was watching.

So she got suspicious.

Hey, Twyla...

Oh hey, don't forget the gig I booked you Saturday night.

My cousin Claudia's wedding.

Start boning up on your Barry Manilow.

Hey, I got concert photos for you.

Oh good!

Thank you.

Anything else?

You want to know what's inside?

Of course.

But you can't tell me.

To wit, Hank:

should I become privy, and if Smelker finds out

and finds some way to circumvent standard administrative protocol

and torture me to the point of having no choice but to reveal what I know.

Torture...

Torture.

Good point.

I know you wanted to know.

But I think my well-being supersedes low- minded curiosity in this case.

I know what you're thinking:

another 'Chance-Fantasy-Sequence.'

Maybe, maybe not.

But lets be clear about one thing,

this is my version of the story...

I told you you were in for some perspective...

No doubt about it... high school is mostly irritating and an abomination.

But you make the best of it...