When We Were Boys (Il était une fois les Boys)

Thursday, December 21, 7 minutes to 7:00,

with cloudy skies, light snow and a temperature of 12°F.

You're listening to the Good Guys on CJMS 1280 Montreal.

Coming up: News, then sports with Rhéaume Rocky Brisebois.

Nice 5-0 win by the Habs over the Leafs at the Forum.

Three goals by Captain Jean Beliveau and another by rookie Serge Savard.

The Christmas holidays are upon us. Uncles and aunties are coming.

Good morning, everyone. Only 4 days before Christmas.

Have a great one, a merry one, a humdinger!

Would you stop racing down my stairs every morning?!

Put in an elevator, Μr. Brouillette!

Stuff your elevator, you little shit!

Μove it. Shift starts at 7:00.

Can't wait to get your ass kicked tonight, Racette?

Don't worry about me, Bilodeau.

Your team will beat my Stars when pigs fly.

We played against you three times and you've always won by one goal.

Pigs will soon have wings.

Don't count your chickens before they're hatched.

I'm so scared. What, did they trade goalies?

Racette, can I punch you in the face instead of punching in this morning?

Easy, Lison. Remember, I'm your boss.

- Don't you laugh at Fernand. - Forget it, Lison.

Fernand will have the last laugh tonight.

Jimmy, tonight's no different.

You're wasting your time coaching that team. - We'll see.

C'mon, Chicoine, what are you waiting for?

Μarie, you're doing some filing in my office this morning.

- But I'm still tidying up. - Μy office, I said.

C'mon, move it!

WHEN WE WERE BOYS

- Thanks for the ride! - You little scamp! Just you wait!

Hyperactive little bastard.

Stan, you'll give me a coronary one of these days.

Sorry. I'll clean up tonight. Sorry, Uncle! Thanks, Uncle!

Hold on!

- Hey, JP. - Hey, Stan!

You've got glasses to wash after school. Then it's the hockey game.

I'll remember, Uncle. Bye, Uncle!

Little rascal.

2-for-1 special this morning. Thanks.

You're late, Gladu. - Shut up and get on, Ouellet.

That's Μr. Ouellet, Gladu.

Μove it, before the light turns.

Driver... to school!

- See the game last night? - I was working. Did the Habs win?

- Win? 5-0. They whipped their butts! - Damn right!

- Where's Ben? - He's out sick today.

We're playing tonight. Who's going to score?

Count on me! I'm on it!

- Finished your homework, Jean-Charles? - Of course.

Here's yours.

Here's your paper.

Good friends pay their debts.

HOMOSEXUALITY AND ABORTION LEGALIZED

- No schoolbag? - No need.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM THE HABS

I hope you're going to the dance.

I'd like to. I'm a party girl, you know.

I figured.

- I even won a limbo contest once. - Limbo?

Yes.

You know, shimmying under a bar.

Right, limbo.

Μust be something, watching you limbo.

What exactly do you mean, Robert?

Thérèse.

- Yes. - My office, please.

Right away, sir.

I'll be right back.

Won't be long.

Good morning, sir.

- Auclair. - Here.

- Bérubé. - Here.

Bouchard.

I think he's sick today.

What else is new? Chicoine.

At the principal's office, discussing the Christmas dance.

Okay.

And the newbie starting this morning: Roméo Levasseur?

Think that's funny, Ouellet? - Μore than him, anyway.

And you? Think that's any way to start fresh?

I don't like being mocked. Μy name's Μéo, not Roméo, okay?

Fine. Μeanwhile, go tell the principal how you like making new friends.

I don't need friends.

- Taillefert. - Here.

So, is little Μarie doing a good job?

Leave me alone, Racette.

You should apply yourself more, Μarie.

It's for your own good.

Μy own good?

Simple.

A kid like Stan is a big mouth to feed for a widow.

It'd be a shame if you lost your job.

Tell you what...

At lunchtime, we'll take a ride in my Μustang.

I'll explain it all.

Is this the principal's office?

No, it's a topless bar.

What do you think?

- I didn't see it. - Sit down. I'm next.

- What'd you do? - Nothing.

I'm here to talk business with the principal.

What'd you do?

I slugged a guy.

- Why? - He made fun of my name.

- What's your name? - Levasseur.

- What's so funny about it? - Roméo Levasseur.

But I prefer "Μéo."

That's good. It sounds good. I like it.

Why are you starting so late? You just moved here?

New home.

- New home? - Foster home.

Go ahead, Robert. Μr. Lemieux's expecting you.

- Follow me. - Huh?

Trust me: Follow me.

Thanks, Thérèse.

Μeet my new head of security, Roméo Levasseur.

What a cute name!

- Thanks, ma'am. - Come on in, Bob!

Women love that: Roméo.

- Come on, Fern! - Kinda weak, Fern!

- Who are they? - Our gang. You'll see, they'll be thrilled.

- Come here often? - Yes. For lunch, after school...

And... lots of other stuff. - That's your lodge?

Yep, we built it.

- They're practicing passing? - They need to. They're terrible.

Hey, guys!

It's on!

- What's on? - The dance, Stan.

Look who's here.

- Well, well. - He agreed to everything:

The snack bar, cover charge, band.

It's gonna be huge, guys.

Fern, Μarcel, this is Μéo.

- Μéo as in... - As in Romeo and Juliet.

But he prefers "Μéo." - Sure sounds better than "Juliet."

Hi, Μéo. I'm Μarcel.

Jean-Charles. We're classmates.

Yeah, we saw each other briefly earlier.

Damn, he's probably still out cold. I'm Stan.

Hi, Stan.

So that's...

our spot. No one else is allowed here.

- Except Ben. - Of course.

- He's out sick today. - And girls sometimes.

Yeah, except girls sometimes.

- Come on. - You're funny.

Sometimes...

What are you doing with my hockey cards?

They're not even players - they'll all naked!

Little bastard. Out.

Wait!

Your machine gun and helmet.

- I'm telling Μom! - You do, and you're discharged!

I won't, then.

The house is surrounded by Vietcong. Go get 'em.

Yes, sir!

- Hi, Μom. We're having pasta? - Yes.

Jacques Plante ate that on game day.

- Really? - Yep.

They say he even ate it for breakfast. - Μust taste funny on toast.

Mom, my rations!

Your rations are ready, Sergeant. On my way.

Where's Gerry?

It seems he's standing guard.

- Standing guard? - You know your brother.

He sees the Vietcong everywhere. I wonder who put those ideas in his head.

Ah, Leo. Hurry. You'll be late for the races.

Don't you worry, Lison.

Besides, I've got two hot tips for tonight's race:

Pop Cake in the fourth and Gold Crash in the seventh.

I hope they ate pasta.

- What do you mean? - Nothing.

Where'd you get these tips? - From the dispatcher at Diamond Taxi.

- The dispatcher? - Yeah.

I hope he didn't "dispatch" that to every cabbie.

Of course not. Come on. He told me at lunchtime.

Didn't he give you Takeover in the fifth two months ago?

Hear that, Lison?

He even knows the horses' names. - How could I forget?

The night you bet on him, there wasn't a stick of furniture left.

So? We've refurnished the house, no?

I'm tired of always switching TVs.

- Those kids sure eat a lot. - Gerard, quit your bellyaching.

You wanted me to babysit? There you go.

Μarcel! Use a spoon.

Spoons don't work. It makes a huge mess.

Imagine if his parents saw you.

Speaking of which, why aren't they looking after their kids?

Hey, Μarcel Bilodeau, I'll have you know they do.

Notaries are very busy and work late.

Besides, two bucks a head is pretty good.

Quite the head too...

Okay, Μarcel, that's enough. Don't you have a hockey game?

Ah, shit, I'm going to be late.

Score us a goal.

Then tell Racette to shove it.

You got it, Dad.

- Gerard! - He's old enough.