All right. After autumn...
Ask anyone around the area about accuracy.
Arctic activities are abundant,
astonishing, astounding and A-1 on all accounts.
- Back up... - But before beach bodies,
bros better bundle up in boots,
blankets, and balaclavas
because a bloody, bitter breeze will blow brisk, blustery and bleak.
- Careful... - Correct and common to cocoon
in a cap, coat and comforter,
because a cutting cold can consume your character,
occasionally create a corpse
and continually compress your cock.
- Don't... - Don't you dare dawdle,
dilly-dally, or dick around after dark in December,
she's definitely damn drafty if you're down a duvet.
- Easily... - Each and every earthling's
environmentally enslaved.
- Fact... - It's fucking freezing.
It's friggin' frigid. You're fit for flu in February
without fleece, flannel, full-fledged furnace, or fire.
- Go on... - It's goddamn glacial,
go grab gloves or garb and gear up for gusts.
- Hear ya... - Hypothermia,
if you don't heat your home to half hellish it's harsh.
Hibernate in a hoodie, hot chocolate,
Harry and the Hendersons.
- Infinitely icy... - Inhabit indoors.
Isolated and insulated.
Incubate the igloo. Illness is an issue.
Influenzas implied. Infections imminent.
Immunity is impossible.
- Just joking... - Ah, just joshin' jargon.
It ain't jail. Jackets in January's no jigsaw.
- Keep calm... - Killjoys keep comfy
in their kingdom, crashing kilos of Kleenex,
keen for cozy kayaking with their kids
when the key is killing kegs with your kin.
- Literally... - Losers live life
locked in their layers, lingering lazy and lifeless,
lost like legit loners,
while the leaders in larger learning let loose.
Muff.
Earmuffs, mittens and mucus medicine,
till mighty maniacal Mother Nature makes
milder, mellower, and meltier moves.
Motivate your mates, like the Moose Marc Messier.
Maybe mix a martini for your maiden,
- if you've met your match. - Nature.
Naturally nippy, but that's nothin' new up north.
Normal naturistic narrative. Not national news.
- Overcast. - Overcoats and
- overshoes, obviously. - Polar.
Parkas and pullovers, particularily.
- Tried quail? - A quantity of quality quilts
is quaint and quasi-quintessential
to avoid quivering and quash quarrelling
if quarantined to one's quarters. Try quail.
- Reindeer. - Well, not raw rookie.
In a rosemary-rubbed roast
with radish, wrapped in rich, rare bacon
after removing Rudolph's red nose.
- Sleddin' - So, we're sound.
Sled's a synonym for snowmobiles.
Snowmobile's a synonym for sled.
So, a sled is a snowmobile, a snowmobile is a sled. Super?
- Terrific. - Trust a traditional
turtleneck to maintain a toasty temperature over time.
- Ugly. - Useful.
- Vile. - Valuable.
- Whatever. - Whiteouts and wind chills,
walk it off, whiners.
Withdraw whimpering and wake up, wankers.
Wrathful wicked weather.
Wear woolens or waterproof wardrobe.
Warm your wet workwear by the woodstove.
Winter is wonderful, wild and wide.
- Exactly. - Exceptionally.
- Yup. - Yeah.
Zero... Degrees?
Well, sub-zero.
Aw, zip it.
subtitle by peritta
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Guess those idiots won't be bothering us anymore.
How are you now?
Please don't talk to me like a fuckin' hick.
Not so bad.
Are you serious with that fuckin' turtleneck?
You lose a lot of heat in the neck.
I'm okay, if that's what you're askin'.
That's what I'm askin'.
I wasn't ready to have a kid.
Well, that is your choice to make.
You're goddamn right it's my choice.
- Sure, it is. - I'm glad I took care of it.
Well, that is your right.
You're goddamn right it's my right.
I'm not even sure if it was yours, but thank you.
Thanks for the smokes and Pepperettes.
I'll see ya when I see ya, boo...
Over and out.
You gots a cold there, Darys?
Hmm, just a cough.
Well, you knows what they says...
If you don't take care of a cold, she'll stay for seven days.
If you take care of it, she'll be gone in a week.
Yep. We can't promise summers but we'll guarantees winters.
You fuckin' serious with that turtleneck?
Yeah, you lose a lot of heat in the neck.
Jivin' Pete says he pulls a pikes outta here yesterday.
Heard Jivin's been hanging out with some degens from up country.
He's a decent guy, but
ain't no way he pulled no pike outta here yesterday.
Says he pulled a pikes,
a perch, a wallseyes and a trout.
Is that a brook trout?
- No, it'd be lake trout. - Why's that?
'Cause we're on a fuckin' lake, Dary.
I'm hungry.
There's whitefish in the cooler.
Well, how the fuck did that get there?
I pulled outta here before you's got here.
- No, you never. - Did too.
No, you never. If you did you'd still be talking about it.
Oh yeah, well, where'd it come from then?
Well, you brought it from home likely.
Well, there's nothin's even to cooks it on anyways.
- You gonna let that stop you? - What do you means?
Haven't you ever heard of sashimis?
- Sashimis? - Oh, I got time for sashimis.
- What about sushi? - Sushis.
Oh, I got so much time for sushis.
Yeah, we should pull it out and hack it out and down the hatch.
Oh no, I knows what it is, I just...
I just don't think you needs to put an "s" on the end to that word.
Hey, Dary, you ever had sushis with shrimps?
Yeah.
You ever had sushis with unagis?
- Yeah. - That's eels.
Oh, I know that's eels.
I just... I'm pretty sure
you don't needs an "s" to pluralize those words.
Hey, Dary, you ever had sashimis with salmons?
Oh, yeah. You ever had sashimis with tunas?
Yeah. With wasabis?
Oh, yeah. Love wasabis.
I like wasabis, too.
If asks you politelys to stop this, would you do it?
Oh, you can have yellowfin tunas, bluefin tunas.
I think tunas make the best sashimis.
I thinks I'm having a panics attack.
Well, the Japanese call the bluefin tunas maguro tunas,
those are kind of like the default tunas that they use in sushis.
Yeah, but toro is a more expensive tuna but it makes the best sashimis.
Oh, it's way better than salmons.
Hey!
When's... When's Katy's gettin' back from the citys?
Oh, she'll come back when she's good and ready. She'll figure it out.
I figure she'll be back for sledding season.
Oh, Katy loves sleddin'
It chap your ass at all that there's only one shack
on the shed trail through Letterkenny?
Well, it doesn't chap my ass,
but I guess there could be another stop along the trail for a social.
Yeah, like it doesn't chap my ass either,
but I'm just sayin' that sleddin' and socials
go together like piss and a fart.
Yeah.
I guess there could be another stop along the trail for a social.
Could be another stop along the trail for a dart.
Well, it's a great spot for a darty-party.
So, we're gonna build a new shack?
I'm surprised we're not buildin' a new shack right now.
That's what I'm sayin'.
I figure it's about time that we stopped talkin' about it
- and started bein' about it. - Oh, we could just throw up
the structure and get all the materials paid off
- sellin' two-dollar cans. - Two-dollar socials.
Yeah, we could sell whitefish sashimis
to help expedite the process.
Oh, we could get real stinky and sell perch and walleye sushis.
Hey!
Walleye...
Perch...
And whitefish...
Are not...
Sushi or...
Sashimi grade.
Well, yeah, I guess you'd have to do pot to accomplish that sort of appetite.
Says you.
- Pre-game sandos? - Check, buddy.
- Pre-game nappies? - Check, bro.
Don Cherry's Rock 'Em Sock 'Em 6 for motivation?
Don Cherry's Rock 'Em Sock 'Em 6.
Chel Tourney for game situation visualization?
Second Chel Tourney for peak performance imagery.
- Pre-game dump? - No pre-game dump.
Hmm. No pre-game cruncher.
No pre-game deucer.
Better go drop that bomb.
Better go release the chocolate hostage.
Better bust a grumpy.
Better go call in a code brown.
- Better go boost one. - Eat. Sleep. Boost.
- Caffeine. - Check.
- Creatine? - Check.
- Livin' the dream. - Livin' the dream.
Hold my spitter.
All right, how're we gonna fuck this pig?
Well, you're gonna wanna starts with dimensions.
- What're you thinkin' there? - 14-by-16.
What, you wanna play dodgeball in there, Dary?
14-by-16, well, that's five me's,
five you's and five Dary's.
You wanna play three team dodgeball in there, Dan?
Call it 12-by-14.
You wanna play fuckin' dodgeball in there, Dary.
12-by-14.
That's four me's, four you's and four Dary's.
You wanna play two-team dodgeball with one sub each in there, Dan?
How about 8-by-10?
Well, I'd fuck with 8-by-10.
No, you're not playin' no dodgeball in no 8-by-10s.
I never wanted to play no dodgeball in no 8-by-10.
Oh, I got so much time for 8-by-10.
8-by-10, that's three me's,
three you's and two Dary's.
- Comfortably? - You're cozy.
Plus some wiggle room in there.
Call it 8-by-10.
Call it a Texas size 10-4, good buddy.
Show you how we're gonna have the structure.
What we're gonna do is put a space heater here, mini fridge here.
Gonna throw the genny right out there.
What about the sushis and sashimis?
Hey!
- Hey. - How are you now?
- Good, and you? - Not so bad.
You fuckin' serious with that turtleneck?
Lose a lot a heat in the neck.
You fuckin' serious with that hair?
- Figure it out. - You figure it out.
Where you's been?
- Modeling. - How's that for you?
- Boring. - Okay.
There's no money in it.
- Way she goes. - A monkey could do it.
- Good enough. - Missed sleddin' season, too.
I told you she'd miss sleddin' season.
I was the one who said she'd figure it out.
- You figure it out. - You figure it out.
Where's your shits?
About that...
These are...
My friends.
Well, what are your friends named?
Shep and Kingsley.
- Those are dude's names? - Yeah.
They sound like dog names.
I don't like where this is goin'.
We'll be in my room.
Guys, hang up your coats.
Where's your fuckin' shirt, Shep?
Where the fuck is your shirt, Kingsley?
- It ripped. - It ripped?
- Mine too. - How?
'Cause I'm so fat.
Me too, I'm so fat.
I'm a bat fastard.
- I'm a fat podger. - Guys...
Enough, let's go.
If I was a Dr. Seuss book I'd be The Fat in the Hat.
If I was an arcade fighting game I'd be Mortal Komfat.
If I was one of the five boroughs in New York City
I'd be the Fatten Island.
If I was an Italian city-state I'd be the Fatican.
Put a fuckin' shirt on!
I don't know what happened to you dusters,
but, fuck me, do you fuck dog!
Walkin' around poutin' like your little sister took your last Oreo.
And not a traditional Oreo,
no, a limited edition Oreo, or seasonal Oreo
they're gonna take off the shelf for another year.
Hey, Barts,
did little Natiesha take your last Halloween Oreo?
You didn't get a chance to say
goodbye to that delicious orange frosting?
What about you, Yorkie? Huh?
Did little Tamsyn take your last Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Oreo?
Well, it gets worse.
Those have been discontinued forever.
What about you, Scholtzy, huh?
Did little Tay 'Rhonda take your last Ice Cream Oreo Orange Sherbet?
That is a summertime flavor.
Good luck suckin' back on one of those in the next six months.
Fisky, I know.
You're a Birthday Cream Fudge guy.
They're all gone. What?
Little DeSondra was the culprit.
And her pal LarawnShawn
took the last Heads or Tails Mega Stuff, too!
Hey, Boomtown. You're an only child.
You got your NASCAR Daytona Oreos?
It's fucking embarrassing!
Let me give you some advice, donkeys.
Take a page out of Jonesy and Reilly's book.
My boys, I skipped curfew call for you last night
'cause I knew you'd be doin' legs,
and I didn't want to interrupt.
We've been doin' legs two-a-days since the first week of summer, Coach.
Blocked every wheelchair ramp in the arena so we'd have to do stairs.
Tenacity.
You can't teach that.
You know, I never thought those pheasants
would fuck the dog so hard
that you two would become my studs!
- Thanks, Coach. - Thanks, Coach.
Well, I need one win.
One W.
What are you gonna do to get me that?
- Selfish hockey. - Selfish hockey.
That's right. Selfish hockey!
Break it down.
Skate the puck. Don't pass it.
Head man's still gonna be there when you catch up.
Take it coast-to-coast.
Shots from poor angles are still shots.
Buck and a half, two-minute shifts, three minutes even.
Cruise the blue line to catch your breath.
Bad bounce, that's a good breakaway.
- Gotta get the bounces, boys. - Perfect.
And a retaliation penalty never hurt anyone.
What's our mantra?
They don't ask how, they ask how many.
That's right.
What did I tell you about stick tape?
You don't need it!
The only people that'll be worrying about puck handling
are Jonesy and Reilly!
Save it for them! Huh?
W!
Well, let's fuck this pig.
Structure goes here.
Sled parking here.
Pretty good spot for pissin' over there.
Pissin' outside's for dogs and degens.
I piss outside as much as the dog does.
Well, I'm not above it either. I'm just sayin'.
Fuck, we could really use so kind of bar in this town, eh?
- Katy. - Big brother.
- How're ya now? - Good and you?
- Not so bad. - My friends need to borrow clothes.
Give 'em barn clothes.
I won't have barn clothes in the house. They stink.
Guess you have to put your friends in the fuckin' barn then.
They don't have any clothes of their own.
- Okay. - They don't have any money.
- Way she goes. - Models are always broke.
- Good enough. - You have a baker's dozen plaid shirts.
They only need two.
Give them the hand-me-downs I got from Dan's second cousin.
- Who, Garrett? - No, Jarrett.
- 10-4. - Over and out.
These are the only ones that fit.
- 'Cause we're too podgey. - Ugh, don't start.
If I was a major league baseball team
I'd be the L.A. Podgers.
If I was a major league baseball pitcher I'd be Podger Clemens.
If I was a pick-up truck I'd be a Podge Ram.
If I was a disguising clothing pattern made for
hunting and combat I'd be camou-podge.
No, better without the shirts.
Okay. Now, go shut both doors and lock them.
Roald.
You'll need to repeat that.
- He's gone. - He's gone?
Along with all his stuff.
Devon is gone.
- Roald. - Dude.
Hysterics are fruitless.
Stewart...
Tears are useless.
Stewart...
Pain is inevitable.
Where?
Why?
W motherfucking five!
I don't know.
He had everything here.
Hours upon hours of ultra-competitive gaming
laced with hip-hop karaoke.
Add a dash of late-night loitering
and a splash of petty vandalism. And what have you got?
Stewart...
Utopia, Arcadia,
Kingdom come!
Devon hated petty vandalism.
He called it two-bit.
Shabby. Shoestring.
Mmm, hence the term, "petty," Roald.
Don't be redundant.
But you're right,
he did hate that.
This was his.
Verify.
Yeah.
Yes.
You got it the summer before grade six at a Sidewalk Sale Day.
Went halfsies on it.
Veracious. And this?
- Roald, substantiate! - Yes.
You stole it from his grandma so you could game
Ecco the Dolphin on Sega CD in grade three.
Irrefutable.
Well,
I guess
he didn't take all
of his stuff,
now, did he?
Fuck me, that was refreshing.
Incoming!
Stink bombs?
Devon.
Fuck, she looks friendly as a couch, ain't she, boys?
Went up faster than shit through a goose, too.
Lickety-split.
Real nice of Tyson and Joint Boys to help us out.
More hands make less work.
Welp...
Fire up the genny, Gary.
Now test out the motion sensor, Dan.
- Boss, man... - I appreciates this.
Aw, it's tits.
- Well, there's one step left. - Yeah!
- Christen it? - Should we christen it?
- Well, are we gonna christen it? - Should we christen it?
I feel like we should be christening it.
Well, I'm surprised we're not christening it right now.
- Gordie Howe hat trick, ferda. - Game puck goes to Gordie.
Yeah. I had 18 shots on net, boys.
Ovechkin numbers.
Played no less than 38 minutes.
Duncan Keith numbers.
But, uh, 9-4 ferda.
Ferda other team.
You know, it's sick, unreal stats.
But, uh...
Be nice to have a couple of W's, too.
Be nice to have "a" W.
Players only meeting?
Yeah. Coach is right, I mean, no W's on the season that's just...
- Fucking embarrassing! - Coach.
Players only meeting.
Oh. Well, that's embarrassing.
Jesus.
All right you pheasants, what's the problem?
Spill it, pheasys.
My wife left me, you little bitch!
Feels like someone ran a coarse glove hustle on my love muscle.
Yorkie?
Same, Barts.
Feels like someone fork-gored my pork sword.
Scholtzy?
She's gone.
Feels like someone took a big snackers on my little knackers.
Pussy.
Fisky.
Out the door.
Feels like someone slammed a super soccer kick
into my Ron-Donny long schlong.
Boomtown!
I'm an only child,
as Coach previously and pitilessly pointed out.
I'd kill for a little Natiesha, Tamsyn, Tay' Rhonda,
DeSondra, LarawnShawn, in my life.
But someone did steal my last NASCAR Daytona Oreo!
That wasn't funny!
But, you all love your wives.
What happened, boys?
- Angie? - Boys.
Unreal game.
Who wants to take me out for a sando?
I'll let you work it out.
Angie?
That's my girl, you little bitch.
She makes me want to rub slick on my disco stick.
Yorkie?
Correction, Barts. She's mine.
She makes me wanna go Warcraft
all over my man shaft.
Scholtzy.
Mine.
She makes me wanna take a low fiver to my deep-V diver.
Pussy.
Fisky?
Uh-uh. She's mine.
She makes me wanna take a fresh fruit to my flesh flute.
Boomtown!
You all have sisters.
I hope you're kind to them.
I hope you cherish them.
This one's mine!
This is bad, buddy.
This is really bad, buddy.
I think we've got...
A puck bunny.
It looks darker out here than the inside of a fuel tank.
Head towards the sensor light, Dan.
I don't appreciates this.
Well,
how we gonna fuck this pig?
We find who did it.
And we beat the shit out of them.
Subtitle by peritta
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