The Stöned Age

Hey!

Stop the fucking car, man.

Yo, man, you better be glad you stopped, dipshit.

Sorry, man. I didn't see you, man.

Move your ass.

Let's go.

So where are you headed anyways, man?

Just cruising, man.

I got to down and see my asshole parole officer.

I got some chicks lined up for tonight.

No shit?

No shit.

Crump's brother? Don't lie.

Guy's still in jail, man.

Naw, man. They let him out.

He was telling me about these full-on radical chicks

he's got down by the Frankie avalon place.

They're from up north. They're all hot to party.

Hear that? Crump's brother's got some chicks.

No shit.

It's been a while since I seen chicks around here.

What's the ratio, man?

I heard there's only two.

Bunk. Crump's brother's a fucking psycho.

I ain't worming his chicks.

Not even, man.

I don't want to end up like that samoan dude.

No, shit. You'd have to be a crazy, hard-up bastard

to worm crump's brother's chicks.

Not even, man.

No way, man.

Hey, tack, where are you going?

¶ Finished with my woman ¶

¶ 'cause she couldn't help me ¶

¶ with my mind ¶

¶ people think I'm insane ¶

¶ because I am frowning all the time ¶

¶ all day long I think of things ¶

¶ but nothing seems to satisfy ¶

¶ think I'll lose my mind if I ¶

¶ don't find something to gratify ¶

oh! Oh!

¶ Can you help me? ¶

¶ won't you find my brain? ¶

¶ whoa, yeah ¶

¶ I need someone to show me ¶

¶ the things in life that I can't find ¶

¶ I can't see the things ¶

¶ that make true happiness ¶

¶ I must be blind ¶

¶ make a joke and I will sigh ¶

¶ and you will laugh and I will cry ¶

¶ happiness I cannot feel ¶

¶ and love to me is so unreal... ¶

so you got a plan tonight or what?

Fuck, yeah, I got a plan, man.

I got a radically hellacious plan.

First we get a shitload of tall cans, right,

then an eight-ball-- no! A quarter o.Z.,

a fifth of Jack just to take the edge off.

Then we spark up the thick verlacious ganga bud,

get those chicks all horn dogged out.

We're just going to do what we always do--

drive around like dumb fucks

then end up at stop-n-go, eating those reynaldo's burritos.

Shut up, Joe fag!

You got an attitude problem, man.

I'm sick of always doing the same shit.

What else we going to do?

I don't know, there's got to be something more

than driving around torrance

trying to get drunk, stoned, and laid.

Joe, you're been weirding out on me.

I'm not weirding out on you, man.

Yeah, you are. Ever since blue oyster cult.

You got hit by that laser, man,

you've been acting like a pussy.

Why don't you take an inventory what we got going for us.

Shit, man.

It's all dusted.

Except for this beef and potato burrito, bud.

That's it?

Always got the crock.

The schnappster.

Shit makes me whork.

What about that skank weed your brother sold you?

Got about half a joint's worth. But this shit gives me a headache.

Schnappster, half a joint of some ragweed. That's decent.

Now all we got to do is find us some chicks.

¶ S.O.S. You hear these words ¶

¶ telling you now about my state ¶

¶ I tell you to enjoy life ¶

¶ I wish I could, but it's too late ¶

what the fuck, man?

You want to party with the buffalo chicks?

And I want to pork their grandmas, too, man.

They know about some parties.

What's up, mamacitas?

Just hanging.

Anything going on?

Guzzlers have a case of ox up at petrol park.

What else is new?

Where's the party?

There's a kegger up at muldoon's parents' place in p.V.

You don't want to party with them palos verdes queebies, man.

Hey, it's a party.

Who's it going to be, just you guys?

Yeah. We could play submarine.

Actually, ladies, we're running a little bit behind schedule.

We got to haul ass.

Where you guys going?

Just cruising, man. You know how it is.

Have fun.

What the fuck is submarine anyway, man?

I don't want to know, man.

Shit! My tape.

This fucking machine just scarfed my tape.

Big shit, man. Put in another.

[Don't fear the reaper plays]

What the fuck is that? Don't fear the reaper, man.

You're not playing that pussy shit in the blue torpedo, man. I told you.

Blue oyster cult. I don't give a fuck.

It's a pussy song. It's b.O.C. How can it be pussy?

Let me tell you something. Every band puts out at least one pussy song

so they can find out who the faggots are. Now take it out.

Fuck you, man.

Fuck me?

It's a pussy song.

Pussy song, huh, faggot? Say it! Say it!

O.K., man! All right! It's a pussy song.

Told you it's a pussy song.

Check it out, man. It's tack.

The tackmeister. That fucking pud.

Hang a loogie on him.

All right.

Tack, you fag!

Hey, man! I got some chicks, man!

Tack's got some chicks?

Man, why'd you guys spit at me?

Joe fag. You spit at my buddy tack, man.

You fucking told me to.

Hubbs, give me a ride down to the beach, man.

What's going on down at the beach?

There's some chicks down there.

Yeah? What kind of chicks we talking?

They're from up north.

They said they want to party.

No shit, man? Up north?

How many chicks?

There's, like, a shitload of them, man.

You talked to them?

Well, yeah, I talked to them.

What kind of chicks are gonna talk to tack, man?

I don't know, man. They must want it real bad.

What, they got, like, big buffalo butts?

No way. These chicks are fine.

Hey, tack,

we'll trade you this half joint for the chicks.

It's fucking skank weed, man.

Okay.

We'll give you this entire bottle of schnappster,

you tell us where the chicks are.

This shit makes me whork.

This shit'll get six fat chicks all William holden-style

fucked up.

Fuck that.

Look, I'll tell you where the chicks are, okay.

Just give me a ride down there.

O.K. Where are they?

Let me in the car first.

Why are you trying to worm me out of the deal for?

Fuck. Let him in.

¶ Feelin' good ¶

¶ can't be real... ¶

tack, where are these chicks at anyway, man?

Down by torrance beach.

In the stone house across from the old Frankie avalon place.

Torrance beach?

If I'm going down there,

I'm going to need gas money.

Shit, man, I only got 6 bucks.

So? Give it over.

No way.

That's beer money for the whole weekend.

Fuck.

Hubbs, man, we do got half a tank.

No, man, me and you got half a tank. Tack ain't got shit.

I'm the one who knows where the chicks are.

Why should I have to pay?

Information without transportation equals dick.

If it wasn't for us, man,

you'd still be sitting in the road jerking off.

Get the bucks, Joe.

Come on, tack, pay up. Ah, shit!

Hey, tack.

Don't you fuck with my buddy Joe, man.

Now fork, dick.

You bogards, man.

Stay there, tack.

What's up, crump?