Darren: Ugh! Can't believe I'm here doing this still. I should be back on the hill. I'm supposed to be in Washington right now. I'm sorry, if that's rude.
Cameron: Oh no, I agree. There are way better things for you to be doing right now. Like, um, I don't know, me. Me on a couch. Me in a motel. Ooh! Me in a castle!
Darren: Look, you seem like a perfectly nice young lady, but I just—
Cameron: Want to see some pictures?! Ah, here's a picture of me. There's me on Spring Break. There's me at the beach. I had a really cute bikini on that day. Uh-oh, where'd the bikini go? How did that happen? Well I guess now it's just a picture of my boobs! You know, whatever, we've all got 'em. Well, this next picture is, um...oh, these are my boobs. These: my boobs. My boobs. My twin sisters—I'm kidding, I don't have twin sisters—my boobs. Um, this one's kind of fuzzy—oh, oh, oh, I know what this was, uh this was my boobs, my boobs, crotch shot, oh there's a little picture of my dog, Vodka! Ok, and then, um, this is a picture of boobs. These are like, two mountains or something—oh no, no, that's my boobs. That's fun. Um, cool, oh, this is like an Instagram effect I put on this one, it makes it look like boobs. Um, this one's fun. Oh, there's another picture of Vodka. She's like right next to my boobs. Um. She's so cute! So are my boobs! These are my boobs, these are my boobs, these are my tits. Just kidding, it's the same thing as my boobs. Sometimes I call them breasts too. Or mountains, montañas, sometimes. Anyway, um, this is boobs. Boobs, boobs, boobs, boobs. Boobs, boobs. Boobs, okay, and then, to round it out, boobs. And one more, boobs.
Darren: Um, excuse me for asking but, why would you keep so many naked pictures of yourself on your phone?
Cameron: So that when I meet a new boy who's interested in dating me, I can send them to him and let him know that I too am interested! And also that I have spectacular breasts.
Darren: While that is quite true, wouldn't you be concerned that he might show them to someone else or even worse, post them on the world wide web?
Cameron: Oh Senator, no, that's why I use Snapchat! That way, they're deleted as soon as he sees them.
Darren: I don't understand. You mean this Snapchat automatically deletes photos so that they can't be spread around?
Cameron: You don't know about Snapchat? Oh Senator, you and I are going to get along just fine.
Pamela: What do you think they're talking about over there?
Trish: Ummmm, looks like gum. Yeah I'm pretty sure they're talking about gum.
Pamela: You can read lips?
Trish: What? No. Wait, do you write on lips?
Pamela: I just—I don't trust girls like that.
Trish: I know what you mean. I don't trust the Irish.
Pamela: What? Why don't you trust the Irish?
Trish: They're just so selfish, you know? Keeping all the precious, precious cereal all to themselves.
Pamela: Are you talking specifically about the Lucky Charms leprechaun?
Trish: Indeed I am. I also have many issues with rabbits.
Pamela: Ugh girls like that, they have no idea what the real world is like! They just float through life with their miniskirts, and their jello shots, and their status updates. They have no idea of the shitstorm that's awaiting them on the other side. They don't know what it's like trying to raise a family, trying to take care of the kids while your husband is over in Washington doing God knows what with Lord knows who! And then the few weekends a year he does decide to grace us with his presence, he's surprised that after a day of taking care of his goddamn children and his diabetic dog, who needs an insulin shot in the morning and at night, you don't really have the energy to crawl around on all fours acting grateful that his three inch half-chub has decided to make an appearance. No, honey, the thought of the thirty-seconds of pump and grunt that you call sex has nothing to do with why I haven't been able to get wet in the last ten years!
Trish: I know exactly what you mean. It's like, he's a rabbit. He shouldn't be eating cereal. He should be eating rabbit food!
Trish: Yeah, they make food specifically for rabbits.
Veronica: I don't know, I still just—it doesn't feel natural using those words all the time.
Mrs. Zales: Well, you see the trick is you're not cursing all the time. You're not throwing your fucks out all willy-nilly. You do that, and the words lose all their meaning. It's like a stew. If you use too much salt and pepper, when you taste it, you're not gonna like it. Curses have to be looked at like spices. You never want to use too much or they lose their impact. You've got to pick your spots. The less you curse, the more powerful the words can be. (on phone) Tell me something good Frank. Well then you tell those little fucking bitchy cunts that if they don't get their fucking shit together, I will personally bitch slap each one of those pussies up and down fucking Wall Street. If this fucking deal goes fucking fuckity fuck shit, I will happily knuckle-fuck every last one of those pussy-ass bitches, rings on! And you know my rings, Frank. You fucking hear me? You fucking hear me through those little twat ears? Good! Now get it done, you fuck. You bitch. You little bitchy fuck bitch! (off phone) So like I was saying, the key is moderation.
Mr. McNeely: (singing) Everything is awesome! Everything is cool when you're part of a team! Everything is awesome!
Mackenzie: Uh, Mr. McNeely, can we go?
Brittnay: Yeah, this is taking forever.
Mr. McNeely: Girls, this is how situations like this get resolved. I think your parents are going to come back in here with some really creative ways for us to just move past this conflict. You just wait, we're about to finally get some resolution to this whole ugly situation.
Pamela: Well the way you were looking at her, why didn't you just fuck her right there in the hallway?
Darren: Oh Goddamn Pam! This again! She's nineteen years old, for Christ's sake!
Pamela: Oh since when does that stop you Senator Hard Dick of the 69th District?
Mrs. Zales: Well then tell them they can take their fucking proposal, roll it up tight, lube up both ends and go fucking ass to ass all night because it'll be a cold day in hell before I sign off on that bullshit offer.
Trish: I mean, are we supposed to believe that it's his colored beak that gives him the power to turn the fruit into loops?
Mr. McNeely: Alright, everybody. Well it looks like my experiment was a little bit less productive than I thought it would be.
Cameron: Actually, I found it to be very productive. I had a wonderful time.
Pamela: Oh I bet you did, you floozy. You cheap cheap hussy!
Cameron: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but you have saggy old lady breasts. Don't hate the player, just hate the fact that your body is starting to die.
Mr. McNeely: Okay, enough! Since conflict resolution is clearly not working, let's just skip it all together and move straight to the discipline. Parents, we are not leaving this room until each one of you tells me exactly how you plan on disciplining your child. Mr and Mrs Darabond?
Darren: Alright, well, Jenna had her nose broken, so we think that was punishment enough. Right, honey?
Pamela: Yes, I agree with Senator Micropenis.
Darren: Haha, what a jokester.
Mr. McNeely: Alright, moving on. Mrs. Zales?
Mrs. Zales: What? No, Frank. No. Hold on. Mackenzie, what do you like to do?
Mackenzie: Uh, I don't know, like shopping?
Mrs. Zales: Okay, she can't go shopping for a week.
Mr. McNeely: Mrs. Matthews?
Veronica: Well, Brittnay is going to be grounded for a—
Brittnay: No, no I'm not.
Veronica: Okay, well, we are going to take away her—
Brittnay: No you're not, Mom.
Veronica: Well we're going to limit her—
Brittnay: Not a fucking chance.
Veronica: Well I—
Brittnay: How about this? I lose my car via fire, and now, I have to drive around in a Leaf. A fucking standard feature Nissan Leaf, Mom! Does that sound fair to everybody? That sound reasonable? Yeah? Okay, is everybody fine with that?
Mr. McNeely: Okay. Mrs. Cappelletti?
Trish: Well, for one, we are definitely going to limit my daughter's exposure to opossums.
Trisha: Oh come on! This is some bullshit! I hope it was worth it guys.
Mr. McNeely: Alright, and lastly, I guess, Ms. Van Buren.
Cameron: Well, I think the only fair punishment for Shay is that she be her sister's personal slave for a year.
Shay: Cameron, no.
Cameron: Okay fine, ten months.
Cameron: Make me dinner for three weeks.
Shay: Absolutely not.
Cameron: Wash my car?
Shay: Fine. I will pay to have your car washed.
Cameron: Alright, but you're gonna Armor All the shit out of those fucking tires.
Mr. Mcneely: Okay, well, because I seriously doubt that any of you have learned anything from this entire situation, if I hear about one more incident from any of you, there will no be more cheerleading this year, and that includes the state championship game.
Jenna Darabond: Wow Mr. Mack, you are tough. But you are fair.
Brittnay: You know what, Mr. McNeely? This is fucking bullshit and this whole day has been nothing more than a giant waste of my time and everybody else's. So thanks a lot, dickhole!
Mc. McNeely: You know what, Brittnay, I probably shouldn't say this, but you can be a real fucking bitch sometimes.
Brittnay: Wha—Wha—Mom? Did you hear what he just said to me?!
Veronica: (calmly) Yeah, he said you can be a real fucking bitch sometimes. A real fucking bitch. Maybe you open your goddamn ears sometime, you could fucking learn something.