Look, it was JD's idea.
He made out the signature sheet
and everything so why not just sign it?
No.
Jealous much?
Heather, why can't you just be a friend?
Why are you such a megabitch?
Because I can be.
Veronica, why are you pulling my dick?
Do you think if Betty Finn's
fairy godmother made her cool,
she'd still hang out
with her dweebette friends?
No way, Veronica.
Uh-uh.
Want to go out tonight?
Catch a movie, some miniature golf?
I was thinking more along the lines
of slitting Heather Duke's wrists open,
making it look like a suicide.
Now you're talking. I could be up for that.
I've already started
underlining meaningful passages
in her copy of Moby Dick,
if you know what I mean.
I knew you'd be back, Veronica.
I knew it. I was positive sure.
It's over, JD, over.
Grow up!
You don't get it.
You were wrong. I was right.
Strength, damn it!
Come on, come back!
Yes?
Your friend Jason Dean stopped by.
He seemed very concerned about you.
He said he thought
you might try to kill yourself.
You have been depressed lately.
Oh, he left this for you.
Oh, my God.
He said that we should
keep you away from sharp objects,
closed garage doors,
chemical, uh, substances.
- Prescription drugs.
- Prescription drugs.
"To neither love
nor reverence wilt thou be kind,
"and even for hate thou canst but kill,
"and all are killed."
I like it.
It's got that what-a-cruel-world
so let's-toss-ourselves-in-the-abyss
type of ambiance, huh?
Come on. It's Heather's copy of Moby Dick.
Why don't you give it a try?
Underline something.
Get off of my bed, you fucking psycho!
You think you're a rebel?
Do you actually think you're a rebel?
You're not a rebel.
You're fucking psychotic.
You say "tom-ay-to", I say "tom-ah-to".
Hold it.
Eskimo. Look at that.
That's one word. I love it!
I usually go for the whole sentence myself
but this is perfecto.
Eskimo, you know, it's so, uh, mysterious.
Eskimo.
Come on.
JD, you are not listening to me.
Nag. Nag. Nag. Nag. Nag!
Th-th-that knife is filthy.
Do you think I'm going to
take out her tonsils with it?
Excuse me, I think I know Heather
a little better than you do.
If she was going to slit her wrists,
the knife would be spotless.
How's this? Can you see your fucking
reflection in the thing?
Tomorrow someone else
will move into her place.
That person could be me.
Ha! There's only one of us
knows Heather's handwriting.
If you think I'll write another suicide note,
you're wrong.
You don't get it! Society nods its head
at any horror the American teenager
can think to bring upon itself.
Nobody's going to care about
exact handwriting. Help me. Quick.
Life sucks.
It's perfecto.
Jesus, I've got
a meaningfully marked-up Moby Dick.
What else does a suicide need, huh?
Now, if you'll excuse me.
No!
Open the door!
Eskimo.
Heather Duke underlined a lot of things
in this copy of Moby Dick
but I believe the word Eskimo,
underlined all by itself,
is the key to understanding Heather's pain.
On the surface, Heather Duke
was the vivacious young lady
we all knew her to be...
but her soul was in Antarctica,
freezing with the knowledge
of the way fellow teenagers can be cruel...
the way that parents can be unresponsive...
and as she writes so eloquently
in her suicide note,
the way that life can suck.
We'll all miss Sherwood's little Eskimo.
Let's just hope
she's rubbing noses with Jesus.
Is this turnout weak or what?
I had at least 70 more people at my funeral.
Heather?
Oh, God, Veronica,
my afterlife is so boring.
If I have to sing Kumbaya one more time...
What are you doing here?
I made your favourite -
spaghetti.
Lots of oregano.
Dinner!
Veronica! Dinner!
'Dear diary, last entry.
'No one can stop JD -
'not the FBI, the CIA or the PTA.
'He once told me that
the extreme always makes an impression.
'Well, now it's my turn.
'Let's see how the son of a bitch reacts
to a suicide he didn't perform himself.'
I can't