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ours to see
# Qu ser, ser
# What will be, will be... #
It's your turn, Heather.
No, Heather. It's Heather's turn.
Sorry, Heather.
# Qu ser, ser
# Whatever will be, will be
# The future's not ours to see
# Qu ser, ser
# What will be, will be
# Qu ser, ser #
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
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 caff pronto.
Back me up, Heather.
She really wants to talk to you, Veronica.
OK, I'm going. Jesus Christ.
Hello, Heather.
Veronica. Finally.
I got a note of Kurt Kelly's.
I need you to forge a hot and horny
but realistic note in Kurt's handwriting.
We'll slip it onto
Martha Dumptruck's lunch tray.
I don't have anything
against Martha Dunnstock.
You don't have anything for her.
Come on. It'll be very.
The note will give her shower nozzle
masturbation material for weeks.
I'll think about it.
Don't think.
Veronica needs something to write on.
Bend over.
Dear Martha, you're so sweet...
I'm telling you, man, it'd so be righteous
to be in a Veronica Sawyer -
Heather Chandler sandwich.
Hell, yes.
I want to put a Heather on my johnson
and spin her around like a pinwheel.
Punch it in.
Westerburg feeds the world.
Come on, people.
Give that leftover lunch money
to people who don't have lunches.
God, aren't they fed yet?
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. Lunch-time poll?
What's the question?
Yeah, what's the question, Heather?
God, you were with me in study hall
when I thought of it.
I forgot.
Such a pillowcase.
It's not that bizarro thing you were babbling
about over the phone last night, is 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.
I'm sorry I couldn't go
to your birthday party last month.
It's OK. Your mom said you had a big date.
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.
Oh. They're great.
Come on, Veronica.
I was talking to somebody.
Great. Here comes Heather.
Oh, shit.
- Hi, Courtney. Love your cardigan.
- Thanks.
I got it last night at The Limited.
Like, totally blew my allowance.
Check this out. You win $5 million
from the Publisher Sweepstakes
and the same day
the guy gives you the cheque,
aliens land on the earth and say they'll blow
up the world in two days. What do you do?
That's easy.
I'd just slide that wad over to my father
because he's one of the state's top brokers.
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...
Why can't we talk to
kinds of different people?
Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.
Do I look like Mother Teresa?
If I did, I probably wouldn't mind
talking to the geek squad.
Did see that? Heather number one
just looked right at me.
Does it not bother you that
everybody thinks 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.
So this is what's called a lunch-time poll.
You win $5 million
in the Publisher Sweepstakes
and the same day whatshisface
gives you the cheque
aliens land on earth
and say they'll blow up the world
in two days.
What are you going to do with the money?
I'd go to Egypt.

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