(Team USA arrives at the bistro)
Brittnay: Mackenzie, what the fuck are we doing here?
Deandra: Obviously, Brittnay, we're ordering lunch.
Trisha 2: Ooh, good, yeah, I was kind of getting hungry.
Mackenzie: No, you guys, we're not here to order food. I brought you here so that you could see what we're really fighting for. We're not just trying to win a competition. We're trying to change the way the world sees people like us.
Trisha: You mean high schoolers?
Mackenzie: Americans. When people around the world think of Americans, they don't think of hot, popular people like us. They think of people (points) like that.
Fat Man: Hey, excuse me, excuse me Jack! Hey Jack! Jack!
Jacques: Actually, my name is Jacques, monsieur.
Fat Man: Yeah, yeah, that's what I said, pal. Listen, I asked for an English menu, and this whole fucking thing here is in French!
Jacques: Uh, no no monsieur, tha-that is an English menu.
Fat Man: Oh yeah? Then what the fuck is a "horse doover"?
Jacques Uh, that says "hors d'oeveurs", monsieur. It is a very common term--
Fat Man: Are you fucking getting smart with me, Jack?
Brittnay: Why do they all look like that?
Blaine: Yeah, why are they all like, swollen?
Trisha: Oh, did they get stung by a bee?
Trisha 2: Ohh, yeah, like, a lot of bees?!
Trisha: Or one really big bee!
Trisha 2: Ohh yeah, the king bee!
Trisha: Oh, hm, that's probably what it was. Stung by a king bee.
Mackenzie: Nobody was stung by a king bee! They're just fat people.
The rest of Team USA: Ooooooohhhh!
Blaine: Yeah, come to think of it, you don't really see that many fat people in Overland Park!
Mackenzie: For some reason, everyone in Overland Park looks like they were bought at the girls' section of a Toys R Us.
Brittnay: (giggles) I know, right? (starts brushing hair with a giant brush)
Carmella: (sticking her fingers into the glass) Hey hey, Jack! Jack! You fucked up here, okay? There's no ice in my water! None!
Jacques: My apologies, madame, but in France we do not customarily serve water with ice.
Carmella: Are you fucking kidding me? Is this third world? I paid a lot of money to get to France! Your sizes here are bullshit.
Fat Man: Man, your country fucking sucks, bro. Uh, we'll just have two orders of these steak frights--
Jacques: Ok, steak frites--
Fat Man: Uhhh, one of these charred cooter plates--
Jacques: A... charcuterie plate--
Fat Man: And uhh, uh, (to Carmella) hey baby, you want a "kee-chee"?
Carmella: Oh yeah! Get me a "kee-chee", okay? (starts slurping soda)
Fat Man: Ehh, give her a "kee-chee", and you know what, get me a "kee-chee" too. Uh, two "kee-chees", and um, let's see, what else, uhhh...
Trisha: Oh my god! What are they doing?
Trisha 2: If they keep ordering like that, then they're gonna (starts gesturing weight gain)--because it'll--and then they, and uh--(collapses onto the menu while continuing to stammer) And then--
Mackenzie: Oh no Trisha, they know that. They just don't give a shit. This is the image that the world has of Americans: Rude, lazy hippos who eat everything they see, and treat everyone else like garbage.
Deandra: Uhh, Mackenzie, I think you're painting with a bit of a broad brush here. The majority of Americans do not behave (starts laughing) like the human garbage disposals that we assume--
Vinny: (rings bell) Uh, order number 32 is ready for takeaway. Two cheese crepes, spinach quiche, ham quiche, escargot quiche, monte cristo sandwich with four extra slices of ham, two whole baguettes, duck confit, and an entire... cake.
Mackenzie: Deandra, is that your order?
Deandra: Hm? Oh, no no, I--I-I think that's somebody else.
Vinny: (rings bell) Order number 32 is ready. Order is ready for Denadra!
Brittnay: Deandra, that's definitely your order.
Deandra: Nope, uhhh, that's some other Deandra, very common name.
Vinny: (rings bell) Miss! Girl with the robot arm! Your order is ready!
Mackenzie: Deandra, for the love of God, just go get your food.
Deandra: I'm telling you guys, that is not my order. I ordered a salad. I would know if--
Vinny: (shoves the gigantic package into Deandra's arms) Here! Take your goddamn food goddamit!
Deandra: (laughs nervously) Oh ok, uh thank you so much.
Vinny: Fucking Americans. (starts muttering under his breath)
Deandra: Thank you.
Mackenzie: You see, guys, that's what they think of us, and honestly, why wouldn't they?
Deandra: Ok, clearly--all of us--have--some various areas where we can improve. We as a collective group--need to start getting out act together and-Hey! Hey where the fuck are my fries?! What the fuck Pierre?! You trying to fuck me on this?! You little frog thief!
Mackenzie: Forget the fucking fries. I'm gonna show you how real models fucking act.
Deandra: I won't forget this, Pierre! I will not forget this! I will be avenged!
Brittnay: (sees Saison pushing Baby Brittnay's stroller and gasps) Saison! Now's my chance to find out the truth.
Mackenzie: Brittnay! We don't have time!
Brittnay: Ugh! (leaves) Grrrrrrr...
(Team USA arrives at Chez Pepe's)
Mackenzie: Now, look at them.
Sofia: Oh look!
Juliette: Yes! Ooh!
Sofia: Oh this is cute!
Juliette: Ooh, so sexy.
Trisha: God, they really are beautiful... mm.
Brittnay: Wait, are they like in the middle of a photoshoot?
Mackenzie: That's how they always look. Like models. Always poised, always elegant, and always, always ready to be photographed.
Cameron: Hey guys, I think we're pretty fucked.
Mackenzie: We will be if we don't start getting our shit together. From here on out, no more drinking, no more partying all night, and no more shitting in trash cans!
Deandra: Wow, it really is crap on Deandra day today, isn't it?!
Mackenzie: Now, let's go find Jeannie, and start training our asses off.
Trisha 2: Found her! She's right there! (Jeannie is seen with dresses for the French Squad)
Team USA: The fuck?!
Mackenzie: What the hell, Jeannie?
Jeannie: (casually) Ohh, hey girls!
Brittnay: Jeannie, what the fuck are you doing with these four cum-chugging meat creases?!
Jeannie: Girls, I believe you know the models from Team France.
Mackenzie: Yeah, and you're the coach of fucking Team USA, so what the fuck?
Jeannie: Well, I run a modeling agency, and of course, we want to represent whoever wins this competition. Now frankly girls, it's not looking like it's gonna be you.
Juliette: My apologies ladies, but the world of modeling can be rather cutthroat, and it would seem that... we are the ones with the sharpest knife.
Brittnay: Really? (pulls out an actual knife) 'Cuz I thought that this was the sharpest knife.
Team France: (gasps)
Jeannie: Girls, girls, this isn't a big deal. I'm still your coach. We're still gonna try our best to win.
Mackenzie: Ummmm, actually Jeannie, you're fired. We took a vote.
Jeannie: What?! When?
Team USA: (they raise their hands in agreement)
Mackenzie: Right now. That was the vote. You're fired.
Jeannie: What? You can't fire me. Who's gonna be your coach?
Shay: (walks in while triumphant music plays) I will!
Mackenzie: (sighs loudly for a long time as the triumphant music crashes)
Cameron: Shay, get the fuck out of here!
Brittnay: Are you just--following us around?
Shay: (beat, then sighs) Goddamit. (leaves)
Mackenzie: You know what Jeannie, we don't need a coach to beat these fucking pucker-lipped twats. You fucked up going behind our backs.
Deandra: You should've never betrayed us, cake eater!
Trisha 2: Yeah, snitches get stitches!
Brittnay: No Trisha, she's not a snitch, she's a traitor!
Trisha 2: Oh! Well then, what do--what do traitors get?
Trisha: Well, if snitches get stitches, then traitors get, uhhh...
Trisha 2: (gasps) GATORS!!
Trisha: AAAAAHHHHHH, GATORS! (the Trishas start panicking and bump into each other)
Trisha 2: RUN GIRLS, THERE'S A GATOR COMING OUR WAYYYYY!!!
Trisha: Get the fuck ouuuuuutttt!! (the Trishas run out of the building)
Mackenzie: C'mon everybody, we've got some training to do.
Juliette: Good luck! (laughs) You ladies will most certainly need it.
Brittnay: (throws her knife, which lodges into the mannequin in the back. Team France gasps.) Keep it!
(Team USA is back at Jeannie's studio)
Mackenzie: Come on everyone!
Brittnay: Mackenzie, before the competition tomorrow, there's something that I need to do.
Mackenzie: I know. Go prove that that dumb bitch is a lying Canadian fraud.
Mackenzie: Just be back in time to compete tomorrow.
Brittnay: I won't let you down.
Mackenzie: Alright guys, let's run laps!
Deandra: (to Brittnay) Hey, hey friend! Hi! Hi, um, w-can I come with you?
Brittnay: Why the fuck do you want to come with me?
Mackenzie: Time to burn some fat!
Deandra: Because please?!
Brittnay: Alright, fine.
Mackenzie: Nice, looking good Trisha! These French bitches are going down!
Brittnay: (filming Saison) Alright, you boyfriend-stealing bitch. We're finally going to find out about the truth.