Hey, Stifler, how come Steve
got all the talent in your family?
Bite me, Fuck Face.
Come on, man, you're missing it.
I've seen it a million times,
you fucking ass-booger.
Steve is like a filmmaking genius.
A true American hero.
The Tarantino of titties.
Yeah, there's just no way
you could ever be this good.
Hey, look, I'm going to prove to Steve...
that I'm up to the standards
of the Stiffmeister Productions.
After Steve sees my directing talent...
- little bro's joining the family business.
- Is that what he said?
- He finally called you back?
- No, but I left him another message.
He'll get back to me.
It's only been three weeks.
Gentle-fucks, a toast.
Tomorrow, we begin our reign as seniors.
Okay, people, let's take a break.
Remember, we play this at the end of
the ceremony after Pomp and Circumstance. 
I don't want anyone starting
the wrong song again.
- Elyse, you need to relax, girl.
- I'm fine.
I just... You know,
it's my first time up here, and...
Yeah, but it's graduation.
It ain't the Boston Pops.
This performance sets the tone
for our senior year. I mean...
Look, you just remember
that everybody here is pulling for you.
Dork. Dork. Dork. Goose.
- I like them feisty.
- What're you doing here, Stifler?
We just want to say sayonara,
and let you fuck-necks know...
we plan on winning the state title, now that
the Stiffmeister's running the show.
- Adios, butt-hugger.
- He's a bigger asshole than his brother.
Holy shit, Arrianna.
Matt, what're you doing here?
Oh, we just want to make sure
the seniors have a very memorable last day.
That's cool. So, there's a campout tonight...
and it's only for the grads,
but you could come.
Let me check my schedule. Hell, yeah.
Bring your sleeping bag,
in case we decide to pitch a tent.
Check it out. Perfect timing.
This is going to be classic.
Time to initiate
Operation Gradu-fuck-uation.
This is gonna be awesome.
- Shit.
- Oh, yeah! Jackpot!
Payback, seniors.
Don't get that pepper spray on your hands.
A graduation gift from the Stiffmeister.
Dude, we should've sprayed
the diplomas.
Sorry, bandees.
Bite my nuts and call me Skippy.
It's a Steely Dan.
- A what?
- It's a double-headed dildo.
It's a dildo. It's a dildo.
- Holy shit.
- It's even got a name.
Picardo?
- Spray that shit.
- Fuck, no. Finders keepers.
Okay, everybody, Pomp and
Circumstance.  Five-minute warning. Let's go.
The bandees. Let's get out of here.
- Matt?
- Leesy.
How they hanging?
Still small and perky, I see.
- That's funny.
- Yeah.
- What're you doing here, Matt?
- I just came by to wish you good luck.
- You know, on the whole music thing.
- Good luck?
You haven't said a word to me
since the eighth grade.
Yeah, and that tone of voice
is exactly the reason why.
So, I'm going to take off now.
Ladies and gentlemen,
please rise to honor our graduates.
Douchebag's gonna miss it.
Oh, yes.
Are they crying?
Holy shit!
Yes!
Eat shit, seniors.
Uh oh!
Stifler!
I've been waiting for this moment
for a very long time.
And now, the day of reckoning has come.
Hello, Matthew.
Your brother must be very proud.
You've continued his legacy.
Tormenting the innocent...
defiling all that is good and pure.
But now, you're going down.
What're you going to do,
expel me, Shermanator?
I am a sophisticated counseling machine...
sent back in time
to guide young and innocent minds.
My primary directive is to protect
the students of this institution...
and all, indeed all mankind...
from the menace that is another Stifler.
Behavior modification is required.
It's not too late to change your future.
No, expulsion would be too easy.
I know the perfect punishment
to fit your crime.
Since you have so much trouble
with the band...
perhaps you should make friends with them.
No fucking way.
Either you learn to be more considerate
or you will be expelled.
No football.
No parties.
No