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-Damn. It's your turn Heather.
-No Heather, it's Heather's turn.
Heather.
-Sorry Heather.
-Dear Diary.
Heather told me she teaches people real life.
She said, "Real life sucks losers dry.
If you want to fuck with the eagles,
you have to learn to fly."
I said, "So you teach people
how to spread their wings and fly?"
She said, "Yes". I said, "You're beautiful!".
-God, come on Veronica.
-What is your damage, Heather?
-Don't blame me, blame Heather.
She told me to haul your ass into the caf, pronto.
Back me up, Heather.
-Yeah, she really wants to talk to you.
-Okay, I'm going. Jesus Christ.
-Hello Heather.
-Veronica, finally.
I've got a note of Kurt Kelly's.
I need you to forge a hot and horny,
yet realistically low-key note in Kurt's handwriting
and slip it onto Martha Dumptruck's lunch tray.
-Shit Heather, I don't have anything against Martha Dunstock.
-You don't have anything for her either.
Come on, it'll be very.
The note'll give her shower nozzle
masturbation material for weeks.
-I'll think about it.
-Don't think.
-Veronica needs something to write on
- Heather, bend over.
Dear Martha, you're so sweet...
-I'm telling you man, it would be so righteous
to be in a Veronica Sawyer/Heather Chandler sandwich.
-Oh, hell yes.
-I wanna get a Heather, and put her on my johnson,
and just start spinnin her around like a goddamn pinwheel...
-Punch it in!
-Westerburg feeds the world.
Come on people, let's give that left-over lunch money
to people who don't have lunches.
Those tater-tots you throw away...
-God, aren't they fed yet?
-Come on, let's go.
-Do they even have Thanksgiving in Africa?
-Oh sure, pilgrims, Indians, tater-tots -
it's a real party continent.
-Sawyer, guess what today is.
-Ouch. Lunchtime poll?
-So what's the question?
-Yeah, so what's the question, Heather?
-Goddamn Heather. You were with me
in study hall when I thought of it.
-I forgot.
-Such a pillowcase.
-This wouldn't be that bizarro thing you were babbling
about over the phone last night, would it?
-Of course it is.
I told Dennis if he gives me another political topic,
I'd spew burrito chunks.
-Oh Veronica, I'm sorry.
-Betty Finn, gosh.
-Hey, I'm really sorry I couldn't make it
to your birthday party last month.
-It's okay. Your mom said you had a big date.
Think I'd probably miss my own birthday for a date.
-Don't say that.
-I was looking around the other day and I dug up...
these old photographs.
-Ohh, they're great.
-Come on, Veronica.
-I was talking to somebody.
-Great, it's Heather.
-Oh, shit.
-Hi, Courtney. Love your cardigan.
-Thanks. I just got it last night at Limited.
Like totally blew my allowance.
-Check this out.
You win five million dollars from the Publisher's Sweepstakes,
and the same day that that big Ed guy gives you the cheque,
aliens land on the earth and say
they're going to blow up the world in two days.
What do you do?
-That's easy.
I'd just slide that wad over to my father,
cos he is like one of the top brokers in the State.
-If I got that money,
I'd give it all to the homeless.
Every cent.
-You're beautiful.
-If you're going to openly be a bitch -
-It's just, Heather,
why can't we talk to different kinds of people?
-Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.
Do I look like Mother Theresa?
If I did, I probably wouldn't mind talking to the geek squad.
-Did you see that? Heather #1 just looked right at me!
-Does it not bother you that everybody
in this school thinks that you're a piranha?
-Like I give a shit.
They all want me as a friend or a fuck.
I'm worshiped at Westerburg, and I'm only a junior.
-I can't believe this.
We're going to a party at Remington University tonight,
and we're brushing up on our conversational skills
with the scum of the school.
-Hi
-Hi
-So this is what's called a lunchtime poll.
You win five million dollars in the Publisher's Sweepstakes...
-...and the same day that what's-his-face gives you the cheque...
-...
Смертельное влечение

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