1 (CHEERING) (WHISTLE BLOWS) MAN: all right, boys, here we go. So, Huntsie, I was wondering, how long does it take to get your hair like that? About four hours. It's nice. Smitty thinks you look like Stevie Wonder on steroids. But I like it. Fuck you! Ooh! Look at that face-pussy that rookie gave you. Fuck you. Come on. (CROWD CHEERS) (DRAMATIC ORCHESTRAL MUSIC) www.able.co.nz Captions were made possible with funding from NZ On Air. Able 2016 MAN: I think I nailed him. (ALLMAN BROTHERS BANDS AIN'T WASTIN' TIME NO MORE' PLAYS) # Last Sunday morning # The sunshine felt like rain # The week before # They all seemed the same # With the help of God and true friends # I come to realise... # (CROWD GASPS LIGHTLY) (CROWD GASPS LOUDLY) ANNOUNCER: Vicious slash to the side of the head... Doug! Get to work! ANNOUNCER: ..Ross Rhea... It says here that you have brown eyes. Come on. You actually have blue eyes in real life. I'm not paying anything! Fuck! (MAN GROANS) I'm really sorry, man. (GROANS) Fuck... What's the problem, Jerry? I didn't win anything! That's because its a jukebox, Jerry. # Go on downtown, baby # Find somebody to love # Meanwhile, I ain't wastin' time no more # Cos time goes by like pouring rain # And much faster things... # (BIRDS CHIRP) # Runnin' after the subway train... # You look nice. Thank you. Mr and Mrs Goldsmith, you guys look too young. You'll have to bring your IDs next time. Otherwise I'm not gonna be able to let you in. Huh? What the hell are you talking about? Barbara, I'd like you to meet Dr and Mrs Glatt. Hi. How do you do? Nice to meet you. And their doctor son, Ira. BARBARA: Hi. Great to meet you. Pleasure. H` Oh, Albee, this is my youngest son, Doug. Hello. Ah! Oh, I'm sorry. ALBEE: So, Ira, have you got a main squeeze? A handsome surgeon, I bet you're batting them off. My squeeze is late, actually. Your dad thought you were single. What do I know? (CHUCKLES) So, what Ivy League school are you hiding at, Doug? Doug did not follow in the family vocation. DR GLATT: He's, um... I bounce. ALBEE: Like a basketball? (HORN HONKS, DANCE MUSIC PLAYS) Richard! (LAUGHS) Hi! Oh! DR GLATT: Very close friends. ALBEE: That's quite the couple, Glatt. IRA: Race you! ALBEE: Is he Jewish? DOUG: Ah! Come on, stop! Stop blowing my hat, wind! For the record, they're both adopted. # By and by, way after many years have gone # And all the war freaks die off, leavin' us alone... # Yes, there he is! Oh, handsome bastard! Come on in! Come on in! Thanks. (SIREN WAILS, DOG BARKS) Tell me you saw what fucking Rhea did last night. It was a pretty brutal chop. I've fucking never seen Rhea lose his shit like that before. He got suspended for 20 fucking games. Boston sends him down to St Johns. He's 40 years old. That's it. He's fucking done, son! All right, then. Welcome to 'Hot Ice'. Tonight we have Ross Rhea's apology. RHEA: To Daryl and his family, I'm deeply sorry for what happened out there, for what I did. PAT: Jesus, look at him. It's pathetic! I have no excuse. (PAT SCOFFS) I don't` PAT: Jesus Christ. I can't stomach this shit anymore. Fucking kills me to see him like this. I'll probably feature it on next week's 'Hot Ice' unless that motherfucker Sully from Worcester calls in again. Like, last week, he called in pretending that he was from some fucking sweepstakes and he told me that I'd won the grand prize of 50 cocks in my mouth. He goes, I have the option of sucking all 50 at once, or one a month for 50 fucking months. Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring you down, pal. Oh, no, no. I... I don't have a thing, you know, like you have your show. And my dad and my brother, they have their doctor thing. I don't got a thing. Everybody's got something but me. Would it help that I want you inside me? That I want you to make lemonade in my chocolate factory? Hey? Fuck this fucking sad shit! Let's just go watch the Assassins kick the shit out of Oshawa. I'll fill your big, thick ass full of fucking corndogs. THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! MAN: Fuck you, Oshawa! PAT: Ladies and gentlemen, this is only the first period. I am predicting that this fucking game becomes an absolute ass-raping that only the likes of fucking Ned Beatty or, potentially, the cast of Oz can comprehend. Dougie, any thoughts? This is fun. These are tasty treats. Oh! What the fuck is that shit? REFEREE: Get in the fucking box! PLAYER: Fuck you! REFEREE: Get in! PLAYER: Fuck yourself! Bye-bye, bitch! Fuck you! PAT: Psycho! Welcome to Orangetown, motherfucker! What the fuck?! (PAT LAUGHS) You want a fucking piece of me, you little fucking faggot? Hey, my brother's gay. That's it! Fucking... What the fuck is this? Oh, shit. He's coming up here! You fucking film me, you little fucking faggot! Hey, my brother's (VOICE DISTORTS) gay! Motherfucker! (CRUNCH!) Ow! Oh! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Oh, attaboy, Dougie! Kick his fucking head in! (CROWD CHEERS) (GROAN DISTORTS) Shit! Oh, holy fucking shit! Look at that face-period! You see this over here? Look at this! Want to take that word back, please? Fuck you, faggot! (GRUNTS) (PLAYER GROANS, CROWD GASPS) (CROWD CHEERS) Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, my God! Doug! Doug! (CROWD JOINS IN) Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! Doug! (CHANTING CONTINUES) (THEME MUSIC PLAYS) (PAT BEATBOXES) That's my fuckin boy! Boner genocide! I am pretty sure my fucking eyeballs just ejaculated. Pat, that's it. Tonight we have a very special fucking guest joining us, Doug The Thug Glatt! I'm a big fan. It's a good show. Speaking of fans, let's go to the phones. (PHONE RINGS) Caller, you're blowing hot ice. MAN: Hi there. I was wondering if you like hot dogs. Huh. That's... Yes, I like hot dogs. MAN: Great! But I prefer corndogs because you don't need a bun for it because the bun is all around it, and you can eat it from the stick. MAN: You like hot dogs cause you like big cocks in your mouth, son! You motherfucker! (CALLER SHOUTS INDISTINCTLY) PAT: God-fucking-damn it! Fuck you, Gus and Brian, you motherfuckers! You're supposed to screen this shit! Fuck this. I'm done. I've had enough of you and your fucking sweater-vest, police-state censorship, OK? (PHONE RINGS) Hi there! You are the final caller ever on 'Hot Ice'. MAN: Oh, hi. This is Rollie Hortense. I'm the head coach of the Orangetown Assassins. Yeah? Go fuck yourself. Patty, do me a favour, OK? Let me talk to your buddy there, Doug, OK? Doug, I'm calling because you impressed the hell out of me last night, and a lot of other people too. Thank you. You impress me a hell of a lot too. I'll be direct. What I want you to do is come down to the rink tomorrow, come out there for a try-out. You think about it, OK? Tomorrow at 2:30. OK. Yeah. I hope to see you there tomorrow at 2:30. (WHISPERS) Where? Oh, you guys really shine in the fucking mornings! ROLLIE: Hey, kid! Dougie! Dougie! (BLOWS WHISTLE) Doug! Come on out here, son. DOUG: Come on. (PAT LAUGHS) Who the fuck is this guy? PLAYER: Jesus Christ! (PLAYERS LAUGH) PLAYER: Wow, nice wheels, boy. PAT: Stop being mean to my friend! They're his gay brothers! PAT: What, you never seen figure skates before? Hey. Howdy. (PLAYERS LAUGH) Fuck! ROLLIE: I don't know what you sweethearts are all laughing at. One and nine, last time I checked, so shut the fuck up and let this guy have his shot, all right? Coach, you're not actually gonna let this guy join the team. You know you're not joining the fucking Mousecapades, right, buddy? You re not trying out for the... the... What? The... Capades. (DOPEY VOICE) Spit it out. You're a big boy. Use your big-boy words. Uh... Fuck it. (PLAYERS GASP) (LAUGHS) (GRUNTS) Shit! Oh, shit! (GROANS) PAT: Motherfucker! PAT: Cocksucker! (WHISTLE BLOWS) (GRUNTS) Jesus Christ. Holy lick, boy. It's just too bad those are your teammates you fucked up out there. Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Of course, on the bright side, those are your team-mates that you fucked up out there. What do you say, son? You want to be an Assassin? Yes, yes. What number you want to wear? PAT: 69! Take the number 69! It's hilarious! Is that number taken? (RUSH'S WORKING MAN PLAYS) ROLLIE: Dig it in now! Dig it in! That's OK. You gotta be shitty to get better. (BLOWS WHISTLE) Push, push, push! There you go! Almost done! I don't care if you go down. # I got no time for livin' # Yes, I'm workin' all the time... # (GROANS) Glatt! Glatt! DOUG: Excuse me. Shit! Let's go, Doug. # They call me the working man... # ROLLIE: Hey, pretty good, pretty good. Way, way, way, way better! # They call me the working man... # (WHISTLE BLOWS) Whoa! PAT: Ross The Boss motherfucking Rhea. He is the master. All right, Fucking Guys Up 101. You see what Rhea's doing? Mm. Grabbing onto the fucking meat right there. Nothing. Nothing's coming through, and you're fucking tiring out. Pow! Bam! Just lure you in by beating the fuck out of you. When you come in close to stop the fucking onslaught ` boom! Uppercut! (CROWD CHANTS) Thug! Thug! Thug! Thug! $6,000 off! $5,000 off! The Thug hates crappy cars! (WORKING MAN CONTINUES) (CROWD CHEERS AND WHISTLES) (GRUNTS REPEATEDLY) Sorry, bud. You're gonna fuck somebody up real good, kiddo. # They call me the working man # I guess that's what I am... # Coach, you wanted to see me? Oh, yeah. Hey, Doug. Oh yeah. Hey, Doug. Yeah, come on in. Grab a chair. I got something I want to discuss with you. I am truly fucking proud of you. I'm truly fucking proud of you. Imagine if you played in a league where they actually played hockey. Your talent's wasted here. I don't know if I have any talent. You've been touched by the fist of God, for Christ's sake! Thank you, sir. I got a brother, Ron. He's the coach and general manager of the Halifax Highlanders. I've been telling him about you, and I think you can really help him out. It all starts with this player he's got there, Xavier LaFlamme. Holy shit, could this guy dance with the puck. And he could put that cocksucker away too. 100% pure natural skill. (CROWD CHEERS) He ends up going number two overall and Montreal grabs him. Whoo! Number one! Fourth game of the season, it's the home opener. (GROANS) Bam! Ross The Boss Rhea. Nice hit, eh? ROLLIE: Suffers a third-degree concussion. Actually, he's lucky he wasn't fucking killed. Time he comes back, he's scared shitless out there. (CROWD BOOS) And the pressure's really starting to mount on this kid, and he really can't hack it. He starts missing practices. He starts hanging with the wrong people. (SNORTS) The rumours, the fuck tapes. It all starts to add up. So that summer, he goes to the club, says he wants a trade. They're not gonna trade him. They send him down ` Halifax. He's with my brother. All right! That's about all I can fucking stand, ladies! You know why were losing? Cos you're fucking shit! Doug, he wants to offer you a contract. This is a farm club. This is not some league where you're playing on a team that's named after a fucking radio station. This is one step under the big league. You go there. You watch Frenchie's back. Maybe you can snap him out of his slump. Maybe you can snap that whole team awake. Thank you so much! You don't got to thank me! This is a great opportunity. I'm so glad you see that. Did you draw that? What? The wolf. Yeah, of course. What's its name? Loopy. Frame it and you can remember your days as an Assassin. Thanks for Loopy, Coach. My cousin Sherilyn, she works for this titty bar up in Dartmouth called fucking Night Court. And she has this dance move she does where she drags her fucking jagged little coke nail across her C-section scars. And she's been asking me to come up and watch her dance for ages, and I've been kind of telling her, 'Ah, that's kind of gross cos we're family.' But I don't actually find it that gross. Hm. This is me here. This one? Dougie, beat the shit out of some jag-offs for me. I'm gonna be OK, right? You're the fucking Thug. You're gonna be wicked fucking awesome. I love you, bud. I'll miss you, buddy. I'll miss you. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! There he goes! That's my friend! I know Doug the Thug Glatt! I remember when his dick was a tiny, little fucking Christmas light! (GRUNTS REPEATEDLY) (CONTINUES GRUNTING) (TRILLS) Halifax! Halifax! (HIP-HOP MUSIC PLAYS) (MAN SPEAKS SPANISH) (MAN RAPS IN SPANISH) (MUFFLED HIP-HOP MUSIC CONTINUES) (INDISTINCT CHATTER) Hello? (WHISPERS) Jesus! (KNOCKS ON DOOR) Hello? MAN: Fuck. (SNIFFING) DOUG: Oh. Did I miss a spot? (STAMMERS) I'm sorry. Nice to meet you. Close the fucking door! Thank you for having me. (MUFFLED HI-HOP MUSIC CONTINUES) Hm. (ROCK MUSIC PLAYS QUIETLY) (THUD!) Jesus, it's early! I'm Doug Glatt. Gord Ogilvey. Nice to meet you. (MUTTERS INAUDIBLY) So, Dougie, you're the tough Yank who beats the shit out of everyone. I don't know about that. Glad to have you here, bud. Thanks. I'm happy to be here. Oh, fuck! Yeah, my wife left me. Said she was sick of hockey. Sick of hockey. (SIGHS) I'm sorry. Well, it's pretty much the shitter. No, thanks. Oh, so nice of you. No, I'm good. Thanks. This here is Stevesie. Anything you need, you tell me, he'll do it. Don't hesitate. Good to meet you. It's nice to meet you. I'm Glug Datt. Doug Glatt. That's Parkey, left winger. Paying for his med school. Asians are an industrious people. I guess hockey is like math to him. Icing the pucks are like equations, eh, Parkey?! (SHOUTS) Where's my fucking helmet?! GORD: Starting goalie Marco Belchior. Call him Belchie. He's from Regina. Vagina? He drinks a lot of hand sanitiser. What's so fucking funny, giggly bits? (ALL MUFFLE THEIR LAUGHTER) We have your mama right here. Oh, yes! Look at this beautiful smile! There she is! Say hello. Oh! I skull-fuck your mother! What? Yes! Oh, hump her head! Just like a Belchie! You fucking Chernobyl motherfuckers! Your mother's pussy's so fucking tight! No way a baby come out there. No way! You adopted! I'm on your team! Does anybody else see this shit? Oh, what a woman! Your turn. I love you, Mama. You might want to wash it before you put on. Hi, I'm Doug Glatt. (WHISPERS) Don't. Two rules, man ` stay away from my fucking Percocets, and do you have any fucking Percocets, man? All right. BELCHIE: OK. DOUG: What about LaFlamme? Where's he at? Probably giving some single mother herpes in a parking lot. Oh, sure. (HIP-HOP MUSIC) # Yo # Yeah, yeah, uh. # This is the shit right here # Yeah, this makes me want to kill somebody # Turn this shit up real fucking loud... # (MUSIC CONTINUES QUIETLY) (BUZZER SOUNDS) GORD: OK, boys, let's go flat out! Give it 121% tonight! (O CANADA PLAYS) (WOMAN SINGS OFF-KEY) # God keep our land # Glorious and free # O Canada # We stand on guard for thee... # # Thee. # WOMAN: # O Canada... (BOTH CHATTER INDISTINCTLY) # I stand on guard # With you... # # Thee! # (SCATTERED APPLAUSE) ANNOUNCER: Well, that was borderline treasonous and a disgrace to our nation and its proud and storied history. My father didn't kick the Nazis'... And the puck drops! Face-off win by Hamilton. Schaffer chips it back to Hall. Here's Jefferson of the Steelers in front of the net. Gets a chance, takes the shot! Shut out tonight, man! ANNOUNCER: Save, Belchior! Now Sacco dishes to Ogilvey. LaFlamme still looking to find his game. Ogilvey to LaFlamme. Oh, he dodged a bullet there! Oh, come on, LaFlamme! Grow a set! Come on, boys! Work those corners! Come on, boys, work those corners. Let's keep it together! ANNOUNCER: Hamilton came out of there... Don't pinch! ANNOUNCER: Halifax pinches in... MAN: Centre! Centre! ANNOUNCER: Johnson gets it over. Here's the shot! He scores! Oh, fuck! (CROWD BOOS) Belchie, five hole! Five hole! Ass-lickers! Am I the only one here? You Slavic fucking borscht-blooded, cabbage-headed motherfuckers, man! Why don't you stop the puck in your big vagina, you Russian lesbian? Get your heads out of your ass, eh? Jesus! MAN: Come on, boys! COACH: Man on, Kimmy! Man on! ANNOUNCER: Now Kim goes into the corner. (CROWD BOOS) REFEREE: Clean hit. Clean hit. What the fuck?! He won't be heard from till next week! You got to make that call, ref! That's a fucking elbow, Howard! MAN: The doctor needs a doctor. Bullshit! (ORGAN MUSIC PLAYS) OK, number six, you light him up. (WHISTLE BLOWS) Look, I got it. Just get lost. I got it. Looks like Ronnie Hortense is looking for a little spark to ignite his team. And that spark is in the person of Doug Glatt, and what a spark hell be! (WHISTLE BLOWS) Come on, you fucking pussy! DOUG: I got him. Come on! Who the fuck are you? What's up, bitch? You want some? (WHISTLE BLOWS, CROWD CHEERS) Knock him out. MAN: Come on, Dougie! THUMP! ANNOUNCER: Whoa, doctor! What a debut! (CROWD CHEERS) Fucking right. (LIVELY ROCK MUSIC PLAYS) (CHEERING CONTINUES) (MOUTHS WORDS) Thank you. (MOUTHS WORDS) You're welcome. (HORNS HONK) (MUFFLED HIP-HOP MUSIC PLAYS) Did you know that cows only miaow when people are around? It's true. I read that in 'Cat Fancy'. GORD: What are these doing here? Gone! (CHUCKLES) Here's a little dose. Little dose. Here we are! GORD: Its time to welcome... Hi, guys. (STEVESIE WHISPERS) Doug. Doug. Officially. STEVESIE: Through an initiation. It's gonna be good. (BELCHES) DOUG: So, uh, what do I have to do? Oh, shit. Fuck. Sleep peaceful, old wanderer. We should sign his dick. Everyone sign his dick. What's happening here? What's the matter? Huh? You have a little puss-puss? Mommy whipped up a pussy pot pie, huh? Lets see what's going on over there. Show us your dick. I don't want you to see my dick. Why you being gay? I think you're fucking being pretty gay. Its not gay. Not if you're brothers. If you're brothers, its gay with a fucking dash of something else. My brothers gay, and he doesn't even do that. I've been playing hockey my whole life. I never fucking signed no one's dick. I'll sign your dick, Doug. (HIP-HOP MUSIC PLAYS) (DOOR OPENS, BELL JINGLES) Oh, come on! Fuck! You'll fuck the carpet! Oh, I'm sorry. I can take my shoes off, yeah? No, no, it's fine. Who gives a fuck? Thanks. Excuse me. Hey! (WHISTLES) Come on, sit. Oh, yeah? Yeah. Thanks. That's cool. Pot? No. Thank you so much for asking me. Beer and soup, that's my thing. You're a crazy motherfucker, huh? Tabarnak! Bam! You fucking beat him. Really? Yeah! Thank you. Yeah! Why did you do that? What do you mean? Why do you help and protect these guys? You don't even know these guys. Well, Coach puts me out there to fight. That's my job. I like standing up for my team, you know? Take care of... (LAUGHS) (CONTINUES LAUGHING) Team! You just wait. Wait one month. Then you tell me if you feel the same. I don't think so. The fucking team. (LAUGHS) What are those? Have you ever jerked off on ecstasy? I'm sorry? Bonne nuit. GORD: Come on, boys! Let's go! Fresh sheet of ice. Breathe it in! Come on! Breathe in that fresh air. Come on! You're men! Men! ANNOUNCER: So, the penalty winding down in front of a good crowd here in this game between the Lovell Kings and... Here we go, boys! Here we go! Come on, Dougie! Steve-O, go out for Dougie. DOUG: I got it! Coach, I'm good! MAN: Two on one. STEVE-O: Doug, come on! No, no, Steve-O. Get back, get back! Fuck! He's got his hand up already. It's gonna be too many men on the ice. ANNOUNCER: Here come the Kings with a man advantage. Delayed penalty. They score! Jesus and the donkey mother-fucked it on! Get off the ice, Glatt! Why are you on the fucking ice, man? I've heard this song before, folks. In fact, on my wedding night. Our bashful bride Glatt can't wear white anymore. You know why there was too many men on the ice? Cos you stayed on the ice. Come on, change it up. Let's go. Stay there until I tell you to move. Idiot. RONNIE: Unbelievable, Glatt. Nice work, rookie. Come on, let's go! Fuck! That was the closest we have come to winning a fucking hockey game in over a month, and you just fucked us. You fucked us! You're not here to play hockey, Glatt. You're here to fight. (SNORTS AND LAUGHS) Hey, pretty boy, you find that funny? Funny 'ha ha'? Like flushing-a-$5 million-contract-up-your-nose funny? Or funny peculiar, like Doug there? You get your shit together, cos your shit stinks, Pepe Le Pew. It fucking stinks. ANNOUNCER: After serving his 20-game suspension, Ross The Boss Rhea was sent down to Boston's affiliate in the EMHL, the St Johns Shamrocks, the same team where he started his storied career, a career a lot of people believe is coming to a close. This is where I started out. This is where I'm from. I suppose this is as good a place as any for me to end up. ANNOUNCER: Rhea is a repeat offender, having sat out 12 games after his infamous head-shot on Xavier LaFlamme three years ago. The league is sending a clear message that it will no longer tolerate this behaviour. No, yeah, no. You're breaking up. No, we're not breaking up. You're breaking up. I can't hear` (SHERIFFS 'WHEN I'M WITH YOU' PLAYS) WOMAN: What? No, I'm here. What? No, it's still shit. You still sound like a fucking cyborg. How? You're in China. No, I'm sorry. Fuck. I said we'll talk tomorrow. Me too. Fuck, I need a drink! MAN: Eva? Hey, Eva, baby! Are you on a date with this loser? Mind if I cut in with my beautiful dong? Oh, fuck! What the fuck?! (LAUGHS) You moron! Here. You can use this like a towel, dry it off. It's made from the same material they make snowsuits out of. (LAUGHS) (GROANS) Man, I'm wasted. Eva, I really like your name. Yes, sir. It's a great name. Like the Bible, just with a bit more, kind of, mustard on it. I think its a pretty name, like your face. You got a pretty name and a pretty face. Aw. You're very nice to me. Fuck it. Doug. Uh-huh? I dig hockey players. This shit ` the violence, the beer, all of it ` I fucking love it. (CROWD GROANS) Sad. MAN: Fuck off. Want to get out of here? Yes, please. Lets rally. WOMAN: Go on home. You're so pretty. You're so beautiful. (CHUCKLES) I'm sorry. It's` I keep saying that. I'm sorry. It's fine. I think it's cute. (LAUGHS) Who doesn't like being told they're beautiful? Mm, this is me. OK. I like Eva. You do, eh? Yes, ma'am. Eva likes Doug. Eva likes you. What does Eva think about kissing? Which type? French? Oh, fuck. (SIGHS) Um, hey, uh... What do you think about me calling you sometime? I don't know whether that's the best idea. Shit. Why don't you give me your number, and I promise that I'll never call you. Yeah? Yeah. OK. (CAMERA CLICKS) Perfect. (LAUGHS) (CHUCKLES) I love that! Bye, Doug. Bye, Eva. I'm gonna watch you walk up the stairs to make sure that you're safe. Safe. Goodnight. Goodnight. (CAT MIAOWS) GORD: All right, boys, listen up! We're still in this thing. We just need a quick one. Listen up, cash! GORD: We gotta work harder than them, OK? STEVE-O: Get harder than them, guys. GORD: You know what's hard work? Going through a divorce. She's trying to get all my money now. She can have half of it. I don't give a shit. The other half ` hard work, mine! Some guys on their team are fucking divorced. Three guys there whose fucking marriages are in the fucking toilet. Were playing divorced guys. DOUG: Yeah. GORD: We got to be fucking triceps, biceps, arse-ceps hard! Hard! GORD: Greek fucking underground gay-porn hard! STEVE-O: You're all Adonises. Highlanders, gay-porn hard! Gay-porn hard! ANNOUNCER: Wheelers win the face-off. It goes back to Emerson. Emerson moves up the wing. Looks across, finds Jones. Jones now flips it up the right side. Stevenson! Here's Mason. Works it up the boards. Gets it over to Gill. He scored! (CROWD BOOS) Where's the pride? Nobody wants to play? Nobody wants to play. LaFlamme. I'm sorry, Coach. OK, Siegfried. Lets go, Roy! Eye of the fucking tiger! ANNOUNCER: Ogilvey wins the face-off, takes it back into his own zone. Now circling in the neutral zone, looking for room. For fuck's sake, kid, stop staring at me. You're really weirding me out, eh? I'm sorry, sir. ANNOUNCER: Here comes LaFlamme, trying to squeeze by a check. You fucking diver! Come on! Come on! That better be four minutes, ref. (PLAYERS SHOUT, WHISTLE BLOWS) Fuck off! Hey, Glatt, you little fucking dickweed! You try any of that shit you did against Hamilton on me, I'll light your fucking ass up. Hey! I'll light your ass back up ` on fire! It's time to make up for your mistake. Look at the penalty clock. And when I say, you get over there, stand in front of that box and wait for that ugly bugger. Yes, sir. Do exactly what I say. Yes, sir, of course. Exactly what I say. You got it? Nothing else. ANNOUNCER: Windsor moves the puck out of their zone. Penalty's winding down. Here's Patrick, intended for Black. Broken up by York, knocked out of the air. And now it comes off the backboard. It's brought right back... RONNIE: Kimmy, get off! Get off! Go, go, go, go! Skate! Go, Glatt. Don't deviate! Exactly like I said. You want a fucking piece of me? Hi. You fucking pussy. I am gonna fuck you up, Glatt! Fuck you! You fucking take it, you motherfucker! (WHISTLE BLOWS) You... little... bitch! What are you doing? Come on, Glatt. Fucking hit him! (CROWD CHEERS) (CHEERING GROWS LOUDER) MAN: All right, Dougie! REFEREE: OK, Glatt, keep moving. Keep moving. Get in the box. Keep it moving. (ROCK MUSIC) But I-I just miss you. I really miss you both. Please don't give up on me. EVA: Oh, fuck me. Hello? Eva? (CHUCKLES) Hey! This is Doug... Glatt. Your number is so similar to my friend's number. I didn't know which was which, so I didn't want to call my friend and then bother you. I was just checking, simply checking the numbers out. Hey, listen, I'm at the bar with my team. I think some of your friends are gonna come. I don't know if you want to, like, you know, join us. Actually, I've been trying to cut my drinking down. Trying to be a good girl. Trying. Well, you know, uh, maybe you and I could hang out sometime, you know, get, like, coffee? Um... sure. Great. I don't drink coffee, but I like Gatorade, and I like power drinks and water. Awesome. It doesn't even matter if I'm thirsty or not, if I could just see you. That sounds cool. OK. OK, I'll see you then. Bye, Eva. Bye. (SHOUTS) Yes! BELCHIE: Oh, you pinko Bolshevik ass-eaters, man! It is beach ball, because you cannot even stop a fucking beach ball. Not nice! Beach ball is bigger than puck. That's why joke is. Yeah, I fucking get it, man. RONNIE: Left to right, we know that. Shut up! ANNOUNCER: So, the score is tied with 2 minutes 52 seconds left. RONNIE: Steve-O, Steve-O, Steve-O, come on! No, no, no, sit down. Sit down. Glatt! Who do I fight, Coach? You're not fighting anybody. Just park your ass in front of that goaltender and screen him. Let's do this. Don't be a pussy. Get that big ass right in front of him. Block the lane. Fuck! RONNIE: Let's go! Let's go! ANNOUNCER: Oh, The Thug is coming in on a power play. Do you believe in miracles? Thank you. (WHISTLE BLOWS) MAN: Let's go! ANNOUNCER: And the puck is dropped. Glatt will head straight to the net. Puck goes back to the point. Here's Kim with it. Gets it over. They take another look. Put out in front. Glatt is screening. All the action in front of the net. Halifax winds it up. Here's a blast! Kim scored! (CROWD CHEERS) A power-play goal. Its 3-2. I don't think the Moncton goalie saw any part of that. There was nothing but a wall of Glatt. RONNIE: Come on, boys! 10 seconds left now. BELCHIE: Keep the wolves out of the barn, man. Eight seconds! ANNOUNCER: Ferris shoots it up the boards. It goes to Lemieux. BELCHIE: Oh, this guys going glove, Mommy. This guys going glove, Mother. ANNOUNCER: Lemieux gets in across the line, takes the shot. Oh, great save! Horatio at the bridge! (BUZZER SOUNDS) ANNOUNCER: The game is over! Halifax has broken the losing streak. Their first win in a month. Wow! What a show! I'm gonna go crack some champagne and make love to my old lady. It'll be the first time, the best time, in a long time. That was fucking hockey, man! Oh, thank you. That's so nice. (PLAYERS CHEER) (BRUCE COCKBURN'S 'HAPPY GOOD MORNING BLUES' PLAYS) # Good day to you # Fat balloon man... # Hey! Hi, Eva. Wow, you look so pretty. I just have to go to the washroom a sec. Yeah. OK. (EXHALES, SNIFFS) Can I get a Gatorade? Hey. Had to go potty? Look... I liked making out with you. It was fun. But what happened between us the other night, it was a one-off. I'm sorry. I mean, Jesus, all we did was make out. Uh, anyway, it was a mistake. You're actually... nice, and I'm a huge bitch. Eva! Don't say that. I'm a very bad girlfriend. Girlfriend? Yeah. I have a boyfriend, which is awesome (!) Fuck! (SIGHS) Jeez. Well, I guess, uh, it'd be kind of weird if I gave you these flowers. Oh, man. These chocolates. (SIGHS) And this stuffed animal. It's a little doll. Its not really a stuffed animal. It's a stuffed Angus. It's the mascot of the team I play for, the Halifax Highlanders. It's just a little toy... but it's official. For fuck's sake. No! It's hilarious. It's a simple misunderstanding, you know? I'm fine. OK. Bye, Eva. Bye, Doug. It's official, the mascot. (WHISPERS) Fuck. ('HAPPY GOOD MORNING BLUES' CONTINUES) Fuck! (SIGHS) Fuck me, Angus. DOUG: It's not the first time that wind blew garbage in my face. One time, my friends built this bike ramp behind a medical centre. It was really windy that day, so I started pedalling really fast, and as I was going up the ramp, wind blew, like, these bloody rags, like, right into my face, and I crashed into the dumpster and I started, like, rolling around in, like, the medical waste cos I was so disoriented. I broke my ankle, like, in three places, and the worst part was there was this big bag of pee, and I rolled over on it and it, like, burst all over me. (LAUGHS) So, you think it's funny too? Yes! Very much so! Garbage blows in my face sometimes. (LAUGHS) Thanks for the ride. It was good to see you. Doug... Right. My boyfriend. Bye, Eva. Bye, Doug. ('NESSUN DORMA' PLAYS) (MAN SINGS 'NESSUN DORMA') (BUZZER SOUNDS, CROWD CHEERS) STEVE-O: Lets go, boys! Go get 'em, Dougie! PAT: Douglas Menachem Glatt! Pret... Pret... Pretzel, bitches! Hey! What the hell? Recognise?! Of course I recognise you! You recognise this big fucking beautiful family of yours? Oh, my God, this is amazing! I'm so happy! Glatt! What are you fucking doing, motherfucker? Start skating. Shave some ice. Love you guys. We love you, Dougie! (ORGAN MUSIC PLAYS) DR GLATT: Hey, he can skate! MRS GLATT: What's that on his shirt? PAT: It says his fucking name on the back. DR GLATT: Language! Do you mind, Pat? MRS GLATT: He can't stop. It's like Tourette's. Hey, want to go? Yeah, OK. Good luck, man. Good luck to you too. (WHISTLE BLOWS) ANNOUNCER: The puck drops. And, yes, we are gonna have a dust-up. PAT: Oh, kick his fucking ass, Dougie! ANNOUNCER: Punch for punch, neither giving an inch! Both still on their feet. Whoa. Right, left, right, left! Both going at it. Nail him, Doug. To the head, to the body, everywhere! Oh, my fuck! DR GLATT: Oh, God. (CHEERING) REFEREE : That's it! That's it! Good fight, man. Good fight. He's a nice guy! (CROWD CHANTS) Thug! Thug! Thug! Thug! Thug! DR GLATT: Do you hear that? (CHANTING CONTINUES) ANNOUNCER: Just 1:04 left, score is tied. Everything on the line here as Halifax looks to extend their winning streak to four. I'm open! ANNOUNCER: A 3-on-1 develops. PARKEY: Net, Doug! Net! ANNOUNCER: Kim lets the shot go! Hits Glatt. He scored! (CROWD CHEERS) ANNOUNCER: It was Doug Glatt in the conservatory with his ass! And the young gun from Orangetown they call 'The Thug' has done it. Holy shit! ANNOUNCER: And the Highlanders look like they might just make a run for the play-offs after all. You make me happy, man! With your ass! My ass. With your ass! My ass! (ALL LAUGH AND CHEER) Doug, Doug! (WHISTLES) Well done, boys! Tonight, good food, good women, good rest. Not necessarily in that order. Glatt! LaFlamme! Get changed. In my office. Good job, boys. See you tomorrow morning. Way to go, Dougie! This boy popped a cherry tonight. Popped my cherry! What does that mean? Boys. Coach. Well, one of you has really been impressing me with your play lately, and one of you hasn't. Either one of you want to venture to guess as to who's who? OK, well, LaFlamme, I'm ripping that 'A' off your jersey. You don't deserve it, unless 'A' stands for 'asshole', which is the way you've been playing. Glatt, you're promoted. Assistant captain. Good on you. Keep up the good work. There's the game puck. I'm proud of you. Thanks, Coach. Xavier, you can take this the right way or the wrong way, son. Lady's choice. Xavier. Go get him. Hey, bud, wait up. PAT: Oh, my God, you scored! Your fucking ass scored! You son of a bitch! Look at you! 1 DOUG: You're gonna love this restaurant. I know how you like Middle-Eastern food. And Uncle Stevie, he's a good friend. He's very robust. PAT: Holy fucking shit-ass! Dougie, you fucking scored! You just fisted that motherfucker right in the ass. Fuck! I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, sir, ma'am. MAN: There he is! There's the guy! DOUG: Hey! Dougie, my friend. Good to see you as always, hey? That's my top customer right there. Five times a week I see you, right? A pair of falafels this boy has on him. I watched this guy fight three guys, knock out all their teeth. Three guys! Four teeth! One game! It was unbelievable. I'm so excited. Fuck it! Everybody, doner on the house tonight, huh? (CUSTOMERS CHEER) For you, anything, buddy. Pardon me. Doner sauce on the house, everybody. Don't get excited. Doner sauce. Ah! Thank you. Hey! That guy, he's awesome. Water down the doner sauce. So, Doug, think we can get anything for this on eBay? (LAUGHS) I don't think so. No, I wanted to give this to Mom and Dad, actually, if they wanted to... see, just... Here. Douglas, it's good to see that you're having fun with this, you know, hobby. It's not a hobby. It's my job, Mom. Um, I'm a hockey player. Have you given any thought at all to the head injuries that come with playing such a violent sport? The concussions? How long do you think you can do this? Mom... It's an infantile way for a man to spend his adult years. No, it isn't. You can do anything. You can do anything except punch people, OK? No, I couldn't! You can teach. No, I cant! OK? I can't because I'm stupid. I'm stupid! Doug, you're not that stupid. I am. I'm stupid. You're gay. I'm stupid. He's gay. Stupid. Gay. We get it. Stupid. Gay! You have one stupid son, and you got a gay son. Oh, God. For once in my life, I'm actually a part of something. I get to wear a uniform that doesn't have 'Security' on it. Kids buy it, and they wear it, and it's got our name on it. Now, for whatever reason, you guys think that I can be smart enough to be a doctor. I have fist smarts. Now, I can fight. I'm strong. I can protect people. That's who I am. This is what I do. And you should be proud of me. We should be proud of you? They call you Thug, for Christ's sake! It might as well say 'Security' on the back of your sweater. Excuse me. (MELANCHOLY MUSIC) Doug, I am proud of you. Thanks, buddy. OK? But I'm gonna go with Mom and Dad, OK? They've got my passport. PAT: Look, no disrespect intended, but, honestly, fuck your parents if they don't fucking appreciate you, man. Like, look at you. You're a fucking beast. You're like the fucking Hebrew Dolph Lundgren or some shit. You don't get what I'm saying, do you? Doug, watching you tonight was like watching a bunch of fucking birds flying in a V. It was instinct... and purpose. It was like you were doing what you were born to do. I mean, Jesus Christ, Doug, look at your fucking fist. It's like the size of my Uncle Murphy's prostate. DOUG: I really feel like getting hammered right now. Let's get so fucking drunk we see each other's doner sauce on the floor. # So, if you want # To join me for a while # Just grab your hat # We'll travel light # That's hobo style... # LAFLAMME: You don't know shit about hockey, you bulimic Don Cherry! PAT: You fucking spit in my face! Fuck your Ed Hardy shirt! What the hell? Hey, hey! He fucking started it! Oh, come on! You're spitting everywhere! Your friend is fucking sick! Oh, yeah, says the fucking Frenchman! You people live like animals! DOUG: I hate spit! I hate it! Oh! Fuck you! (DOOR SLAMS) Ah... What's your problem? I'll tell you my problem. How many minutes did you play tonight, huh? I don't know. 11. So? You skate like shit, but you play 11 fucking minutes. Who the fuck are you? I'm a fucking hockey player. You steal my A. You steal my power play. You're a fucking goon! A thug! You're fucking nothing! (GROANS) You are not a hockey player. The only reason why I'm not knocking your teeth out right now is cause you're on my team. Do you have any idea what would happen if I stopped watching your back? Yeah. It'd be like before you came. I liked that better. (COUNTRY MUSIC PLAYS) (MAN SINGS IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE) MAN 2: We have not pissed together since last time we double-teamed Belchior's mother, huh? Oh, and we pissed on her too. (ALL LAUGH) You pissed on my leg! All right, lads! All right. We're in the shit now. This is Quebec. Get your fucking game faces on. This is about to get ugly. We got four games left, boys. We only need two of 'em. Shove your tetes carres up their derrieres and rip their fucking hearts out! Let's go get em, boys! (ROCK MUSIC PLAYS, CROWD CHEERS) (CROWD BOOS) You're with me tonight, Mommy. You are with me tonight. RONNIE: Feel the fucking energy in this building? I want you to take that onto the ice. Dougie, you're gonna shadow LaFlamme the entire game. You, Gord, LaFlamme, you're starting. Boys, were in this fucking thing. Now let's play like we're supposed to be here! Let's go! MAN: All right! RONNIE: Dougie, on LaFlamme! Stick to him! Stick to him! MAN: Were rooting for you, Gordon! We're all in this together. When that puck drops, we all drop. Shut the fuck up! ANNOUNCER: Here we go! The fries have been frenched. The cheese has been curded. Let's pour some gravy on me... Let's drop the fucking puck! ...and dig in. Halifax gets the face-off. Back to LaFlamme. He comes up ice with a full head of steam. Simard lines up LaFlamme. LaFlamme avoids the check! Simard flies into the boards. Here's LaFlamme moving up the right side. Cuts toward the net. LaFlamme takes it to him! He scored! LaFlamme a tremendous move. All right! ANNOUNCER: The defenceman totally lost control... Fuck you! Nice job, bro! ANNOUNCER: Here's LaFlamme, picks up the puck behind the net. He starts away. He spins away from one check. Now gets up to centre ice. Gord! ANNOUNCER: Takes a look. Feeds the pass over. Back, back, back, back! ANNOUNCER: He gets it back again. Swings by another check. Walks in. MAN: Man on, man on! Hey! What the fuck? Dougie! ANNOUNCER: And Glatt was looking the other way. (WHISTLE BLOWS) Get him off! MAN: That's it, Dougie! Leave him! ANNOUNCER: They're calling for the stretcher. This is getting scary, folks. Jesus Christ. MAN: Easy, boys. Xavier, look at me. RONNIE: OK, he's got a concussion. He may not be back at all. And for what you did to Simard, you've been suspended. Were lucky it's only one game. You know what, Glatt? This team counts on you. Whatever it is that is making you fucking ovulate, you'd better figure it out quick and get your fucking shit together! And for those of you who think you've got no practice tomorrow... 6:00am, bag skate, pussies! I want to see every single one of you work your fucking asses off until you're puking guts out! This is not fucking baseball! Do you want to make the play offs or not? God damn it. And Glatt! I see you. You're riding piss hole. Back of the bus. Roll it out, George. (ENGINE REVS) ('FLY AT NIGHT' BY CHILLIWACK PLAYS) # Well, we fly by night # It's like a rocket flight # And, baby, that's just what it's for # We fly by night, it makes you feel all right # You keep coming back for more # Ah, ahhh... # Ah, ahhh... # Ah, ahhh... # Four men in a rock and roll band # Fly at night, in the morning we land... # (WHISPERS) I can't really talk now. That's why I was texting you. DOUG: I'm sorry. I'm such a moron. So you saw my head butt, huh? Yeah. You fucked him up. (WHISPERS) Are you at the library? No, um, my boyfriend got home a few days ago. Why did you text me, then? I dig talking to you, and now I'm thinking about you, and sometimes I sleep with that Angus-the-Highlander doll. There's nothing weird about that. It's official. Yeah, Doug. I know. Fuck. I'm a bad girlfriend, Doug. Well, I mean, all we did was make out. I'm a slut, Doug. I'm horny a lot. I sleep around. Oh, OK. That doesn't bother you? The truth is I just... I have a really huge crush on you. I gotta go, Doug. 1 (DOOR BELL JINGLES) Hello, sir. My name is Doug Glatt. Ross Rhea. Nice to meet you, kid. Nice to meet you too. Sit down. Thanks. So, you're the new me, eh? (CHUCKLES) I don't know about that. I don't think so. Everyone else seems to. It's good. Good for you, kid. Thank you. So, what are you doing wandering around St Johns at 3:00 in the morning? Aren't you guys playing us tonight? Well, yeah, but not me. I got suspended a game. Too bad. I ain't much for waiting around. You're a tough little bastard out there. You can fucking bang. Thank you. Thanks so much. So, I'm gonna impart some of the wisdom of my years on you. I could really use some of that. Everybody loves the soldiers until they come home and stop fighting. You understand what I'm saying? Mm... I don't know. No. Kid, you got this thing, the stuff, the shit, the fucking grit. You got it, like me. But like me, that's all you fucking got. And like me, you're no good to anyone doing anything else. All I'm saying is don't go trying to be a hockey player. You'll get your fucking heart ripped out. But I am a hockey player, sir. You're a fucking goon. That plays hockey, like you. I don't play much hockey. You're a hockey player, sir. You know they just want you to bleed, right? Well, I'm here to do whatever they need me to do. You know, if they need me to bleed, then I'll bleed for my team. Yeah. I suppose you heard I'm gonna retire at the end of the season. I've been at this since I was 17, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna go out like some Nancy-boy, middle-aged fuck. You understand? Yeah, I understand. You have my respect. Whatever that means to you, you got it. But know this shit hard. If ever there comes a time when it gets down to the marrow and it's you and me, kid... I will lay you the fuck out. (CROWD CHEERS) Come here, you piece of fucking shit! Get the fuck over here! (CHUCKLES) Everyone knows what I'm here for. MAN: To kick fucking ass! (CROWD CHEERS) That's right. I fight. I fight for my team. They need me to bleed, then I bleed. (CROWD CHEERS) I started my career here in St Johns. I think it's only fitting that I, um` I'm winding it up here. That being said, I still got some fight in me left. (CROWD CHEERS) What do you say, boys? Let's go to the play-offs. Give the old man one last shot at a ring. How about it, eh? God bless Newfoundland! (CROWD CHEERS) ANNOUNCER: It's a rough, physical game tonight, folks. Both teams jockeying for the eighth and final play-off spot in the East. I'm open! Stevenson calling for the puck. He's absolutely levelled by Rhea! Where's the call? Shamrocks take the puck in. They shoot! He scored! St Johns has taken an early lead. Rhea absolutely running over the poor Highlanders. It's anarchy on the ice. Cheap shot, Rhea. No need. Take it. I'm gonna fight you, man. Oh, come on, Gord. You know how this ends. No shit. (WHISTLE BLOWS) All right, come on. Are you sure? (WHISTLE BLOWS) Come on, Gord. (BOTH GRUNT) Whoa, whoa! Shit! I can do this all night, boys. ANNOUNCER: Gord Ogilvey getting into only the third fight of his entire career. Yeah, if I want any lip from you, I'll rattle my zipper. ANNOUNCER: A for effort, captain. And D for Doug Glatt. Are you there, Doug? It's me, Margaret! ('RAINSHOWERS' BY MICHEL PAGLIARO PLAYS) # Rain, rain, rainshowers # So glad that you came... # Xavier, are you up? I'm an idiot. From now on, no matter what happens, if you want to punch me in the face or spit in my mouth while I'm asleep, it doesn't matter. I'm always gonna be watching your back. I think that we both have a light in our stomachs. A special light, like E.T. And the team needs somebody to light the way. My stomach light needs your stomach light. We can all phone home together. ANNOUNCER: Two home games left in the season, both must-wins. If they don't, they're gonna wind up on the golf course early, and that doesn't sound quite so bad to me. 18 holes and a Reuben. Here come the Highlanders! (CROWD CHEERS) (WHISTLE BLOWS) (CROWD CHANTS) Highlanders! Highlanders! Glatt, what the fuck? Hockey! Head up, head up, head up, head up! Go, go, go, go! (SPEAKS INAUDIBLY) Glatt! What are you doing? ANNOUNCER: The Highlanders start out of their own zone. Here's the pass over to LaFlamme. LaFlamme taking it along the boards. He's run into by Finnerty, and now Glatt comes in. (CROWD CHEERS) (CROWD CHANTS) Thug! Thug! LAFLAMME: Hey, man. Nice fight. (WHISTLE BLOWS) ANNOUNCER: Now the puck back in the Highlanders' zone, and the Highlanders bring it away. Here's LaFlamme. He moves it over to Glatt. Glatt, he duffs the shot, gets it back to LaFlamme. LaFlamme walks... He scores! LaFlamme scores the goal, with an assist going to Glatt. Whoo-hoo! Nice one, Dougie! DOUG: LaFlamme! LAFLAMME: Nice assist, man. DOUG: Thanks. 69! Doug! 69! Yeah! Well, it has come down to this, folks. The Highlanders need this win to keep their play-off hopes alive. LaFlamme serving a high-sticking major with his team nursing a tenuous one-goal lead. Can they hang on? I love you, Mom. RONNIE: Dougie, hey, keep that fucking crease clean! Clear them out! Front of the crease the whole time. Let's get fucking real, boys. Let's get fucking real! ANNOUNCER: Now the puck goes back to the point. Concorde pulling the goaltender. Going with six attackers. Hold the box, boys! Clear the crease, Dougie! Let's go, man! Let's go, fuck-face! Boom! Come on, Dougie! Come on, Dougie! ANNOUNCER: Seconds tick down. There's about 27 left now. BELCHIE: Come on now! Let's go! Clear it out! Clear it out! Give me the puck! Clear the fucking crease! BELCHIE: Where's the puck, man? I cant see the shot. Shot right, shot right! I'm down! I'm down! (GROANS) CROWD: Three... two... Aargh! CROWD: ..one! No goal! No goal! No goal! Banzai, you motherfucker! Dougie? Doug? Eat it, puss-puss! Fight like a fucking man! Come on! Yeah, you've done it before, you pussy! And I know you fuck your players. Don't deny it. Did we win? Get him out of there, please. You stopped it, man. You fucking did it! Oh, fuck. (WHISPERS) Hi. It didn't hurt at all. Dougie. Hey, Dougie. You're all right. You did it. You did it. We won it, Dougie. (MAN SINGS OPERATICALLY IN ITALIAN) ANNOUNCER: Big win here tonight for Halifax, but they'll still need one more if they're to advance to the play-offs. They meet the St Johns Shamrocks for the eighth and final play-off spot. And if the hockey gods truly exist and aren't just a figment of my ageing imagination, we'll finally get to see that long-awaited battle between Ross Rhea and Doug Glatt. OK. Gather round here, Highlanders! Come on, boys. Belchie! Fucking horse cock, get over here. Listen, boys, it was a solid fucking effort tonight. I fucking loved it. And Dougie took one in the face! (ALL CHEER) I'm high on painkillers. Pass the dutchie, man. I will. I got some for you. I'm so fucking proud! You are un-fucking-real. The stuff that you're... That is-is fucking great! Thank you. You're our knight! You're fucking all right, eh? Thanks, Coach. (PHONE RINGS) Eva! Hey, hey. (EVA SOBS) No. Hey, what happened? Did you just watch Rudy? No. I did it. I broke up with him. Holy shit! I don't even know what the fuck I'm... Hey, come on. From what I saw from him, he seemed like a really nice guy. I'm just not in... love with him. You're not? No! You. You make me want to stop sleeping with a bunch of guys. That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me. 1 JOYFUL MUSIC I'm so sorry. It's my fault. She's a wonderful girl. Hit me again. Hi, there. I'm Eva. This is, uh... Dakota? Yeah, whatever. (DOOR OPENS) EVA: Doug! Where were you? Oh, my God! Tabarnak! What the fuck happened to you, man? Hey. Oh, what? This? No, it's nothing. What the fuck happened, Doug? When you deserve a beating, you take it. Oh, Jesus, Doug! MAN ON TV: St Johns and Halifax. This will mark the first occasion that Ross The Boss Rhea and Xavier LaFlamme will share the same ice since that brutal hit three years ago in Montreal. LaFlamme was severely concussed... Fuck. ...never quite found his legs again. I made a dive. Talk about putting out la flamme. (BAGPIPES PLAY) Look at you! Did you fall off a toilet-paper roll? Do you pee rainbows? You fart cinnamon? Don't ruin this for Doug, Pat. Rainbow out of your nipples? Well, we're not here cos I'm a good fucking captain, because I'm not. I've fucked up a lot of things in my life. I mean, I lost my woman, and I don't see my kid enough. And I guess what I'm trying to say is I feel I've gained a family with you boys. You skated, you fought, and you fucking bled, and you have earned every piece of this. You got that shit that makes you keep going long after you got no reason to. That Doug shit. He's got it. He's got the stuff. GORD: No matter what happens out there they will know... (SCREAMS) ...the Highlanders were here! (BAGPIPES CONTINUE) Highlanders! (ALL CHANT) Highlanders! Highlanders! (ROCK MUSIC PLAYS) (CROWD CHANTS) Let's go! Let's go, boys! Let's go, Dougie! Come on, Highlanders! Dougie! Hey! Fuck you! Je ne parle pas francais. Fuck him, man. ANNOUNCER: So the Halifax Highlanders and the St Johns Shamrocks. Its all on the line here, the eighth and final play-off spot. And this should be a dandy confrontation. BELCHIE: No glory holes here tonight, man! ANNOUNCER: Rhea runs into a couple of Halifax players. Here's a shot on goal. The save is made by Belchior. Hey, hey! Come here, you piece of shit! He's a one-man wrecking crew. RHEA: Come on, Coach. Too many men on the ice. RONNIE: Get the fuck out of here! PAT: Ross Rhea, you're a cheap motherfucker! You cheap bastard! ANNOUNCER: Rhea steals the puck. He puts it out in front. He scores! Fuck you, Rhea! Ha! Hey! Come on! I'm gonna score a goal just for you right now. ANNOUNCER: Here's LaFlamme. Steps out on the ice. Here! Here! He calls for the puck. He takes the pass. Here comes LaFlamme. He's straight up the middle, in across the left. Goes right through the defence. In on goal. Shot! (CLANK!) Shit! Let's go! God fucking damn it! ANNOUNCER: And the fans are totally frustrated. Their Halifax team cant buy a goal. Great save, Belchior! We just saw Rhea come off the ice. Come on! Let's go, Glatt. Let's go, boys! Stick with him. Stick with him. ANNOUNCER: Rhea manages to step out on the ice at the same time. This could get scary. Rhea and Glatt, are they gonna have a go? Come on! Come on! Here we go! Here we go! Here we go! ANNOUNCER: Rhea skates away! No! He suckered him. What the shit is that?! ANNOUNCER: He forced him to take a penalty. Fucker! Fuck you! RONNIE: Come on, ref! You can't call that! He was fucking instigating! RHEA: You got to keep your boy out of the box, Ronnie. Ah... ANNOUNCER: Shorthanded situation, a great opportunity. BELCHIE: Clear it out now! Clear it out! ANNOUNCER: He scores! Shit! Fuck a duck! Pig-fucker! Here we go now, boys. Real hockey! Let's go now. Get it back! (WHISTLE BLOWS) ANNOUNCER: Off the draw, here's LaFlamme out on the ice now. Rhea out as well. RONNIE: Let's go! Change it up! ANNOUNCER: And now LaFlamme actually takes a run at big Rhea. Eat that shit, Matlock! You want something, Frenchie? Come on. Come here. You want some? Remember what happened last time, huh? ANNOUNCER: Now Glatt steps in. That was a dirty shot, Doug. MAN: Come on, boys, let's play. Come on, come on! 3 in white, two minutes for crosschecking. 69 in blue, two minutes, crosschecking. ANNOUNCER: Early in the third, Glatt and Rhea both in the penalty box. It opens up a little room. The puck is now down in the Halifax zone. Go, Highlanders! (CROWD CHANTS) Thug! Thug! ANNOUNCER: Looks like these fans are out for blood tonight. Kid, you ready? Yes! Thank you for asking! Ladies and gentlemen, this is actually fucking happening. Dougie The Thug Glatt is about to fucking drop the gloves and take on Ross The Boss Rhea. This has all the elements of a fucking sports masterpiece. Holy fuck! We got the worried lady friend, face frozen with concern. We got the gay brother. Yup! And the lovable, wisecracking, Mick-best-friend, Orangetown-son, pussy-crew, album-dropping... Oh, fuck! Here we go. Here we go! Oh, my God! (BOTH GRUNT) RONNIE: Come on! Come on, Dougie! Take his fucking head off! Shit! Aw, Jesus! Don't you fucking dare. MAN: Come on, Doug! He's OK. He's always had bad fucking ankles. Come on, Dougie. Come on, hit him! Fuck! Ah! You feel that shit, Rhea? You show him where the fuck you're from! Ah! Oh, fuck. (GROANS) You're a fucking warrior, Doug! Come on, Doug! He's not done yet. (GROANS) (GRAND ORCHESTRAL MUSIC) (CROWD ROARS) (CHOIR SINGS IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE) (CROWD ROARS) Shit. (SCREAMS) Doug! Oh, my God! Doug! (WOMAN SINGS OPERATICALLY) Attaboy, Dougie! Come on, kiddo! You fucking did it, kid. You did it. Doug! You did it. (CHOIR SINGS GRAND OPERATIC THEME) ANNOUNCER: He scores! Its 2-1 with 15:25 left in the third. Here's LaFlamme, steals the puck at his blue line. He's breaking away! Attaboy! ANNOUNCER: In across the line. He fakes, backhand, he scores! Xavier! LaFlamme has taken it on his shoulders! He's tied this thing 2-2 with 5:23 left. Here comes Shifty LaFlamme once again. Dipsy-doodles, leaves bodies in his wake. He scores! 3-2! 1:21 left. What a performance by LaFlamme! Three straight goals! LaFlamme! ANNOUNCER: 1:21 from the play-offs in Halifax. I think I nailed him. (WOMAN RAPS) As I walk around, feeling really good About everything from my health to my hood I realise that I'm blessed with a lot So all I got to say is work with what you got They say my voice really wasn't made for rappin' Straight out the group home, it would never happen As a teenager, had my first child And in all my photos, you never seen a smile But now I'm the best that ever did it The greatest female rapper, and they all must admit it To all the haters, I say thanks a lot, Cos life can turn out really good if you work with what you got. MAN: I know its hard, but it takes some work to be WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: If you got nothing or even if you got it all WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: I know its hard, but it takes some work to be WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: If you got nothing or even if you got it all WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: If you have an idea, just think it If you have one eye, just blink it If you have a drop of rum, just drink it Workin' with what you got If you got one leg, just shake it If you don't want to smile, then fake it If you got one potato, bake it You got to work it until you can't work it no more WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: You got to work it, work it until you know the score WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: You got to work it till you can't work it no more WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: If you got nothing or even if you got it all WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: Hey, hey (SCATS) WOMAN: Let me hear you sing along MAN: I know its hard, but it takes some work to be WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: If you got nothing or even if you got it all WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: Workin' with what you got, oh, baby WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: If you got nothing or even if you got it all WOMAN: Workin' with what you got MAN: Anytime you see life throws you a curve You know deep in your heart you don't deserve You may be takin a lickin', keep on tickin'... Let's go, Doug! Come on, Dougie! Come on, Doug! ANNOUNCER: We got a fight going on. It's our new boy, Doug Smith. Oh, is he working him over! He dropped Miciak like nothing! Oh, he'll soon become a favourite of Johnstown fans. MAN: I can't see. (LAUGHS) Isn't that unbelievable? Get some clapping going. What the fuck? (CLAPS) (CROWD CHEERS) Come on, Doug! Yeah! There you go! ANNOUNCER: A few shots in. Smith trying with the uppercut. There goes Smitty! Doug The Hammer Smith of the Packers. Right over right over right over right, as they've connected with about 30 punches total. Oh! There's Smith and Daviault. What a scrap we're gonna have here. Two big heavyweights, both with some good balance. # Dem boys # # No longer long overdue # # Dem boys # # Could easily be one of you # # Microphone cyclone flow # Orgasm faces, laser sandwich of styles # Gooseflesh when hair raises on the backs of necks # From Tourettes to Tantric sex # Blisters gettin blistered, delicious and double-fisted # Blood, floods, foams of suds # Bubbles up from where you lay in the mud # I been backstabbed, on the lam # Doctor Gelato, marble slab # Electric night fire on the microphone # Been dousin' myself with champagne cologne # And now my name is known across the land # From Pakistan to mainland Japan # In Kazakhstan and back to Kapuskasing # They be kickin' it, spit and have a wild goose chase # And wild geese be always chasin' me, though, # But I need time to speed-rhyme amazingly, so... # # Dem boys # # Go where they want to # # Dem boys # # Got no one to answer to # # Dem boys # # Got a lot of explaining to do # # Dem boys # # Could easily be one of you # # Dem boys # # Take it where you want to # # Dem boys # # Be makin' a breakthrough # # Dem boys # # No longer long overdue # # Dem boys # # Could easily be one of you # # Them boys got juice, you got no juices # We got juice and tries and deuces # Tried to get loose, but you is # Tied up, no juice producin' # Tied up and used to losin' # Bend over, get your goosin' # We're boozed up with hos from Houston # We don't have a problem we're used to it # Gettin' juiced as shit # Don't touch my drink, man # Don't give my juice a sip # Six box of wine defines six ages # Priced to move, profits, pages # Abracadabra, now taste it # Wine from water, goodness gracious # You like Moses, he likes Jesus # She just likes them boys and pleases # Down on both of your knees # This feels like heaven, smells like faeces... # MAN: Ew! Faeces! That's gross, y'all. MAN 2: Yeah, don't touch that faeces. # She makes more money than me # She drives a finer car than me # I, I just wanna cry # She makes more money than me # She drives a finer car than me # I, I just wanna cry # (MAN RAPS IN FRENCH AND ENGLISH) www.able.co.nz Captions were made possible with funding from NZ On Air. Able 2016