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You're packing up for a fishin' trip
with your pals the other day.
I loves fishin' in Kwee-bec.
Who doesn't love fishing in Kay-bec?
Great fishin' in Kyu-bec.
- I fucking hate Quebec. - This guy's fuckin' Puppers.
- Oh, I'm havin' flash snacks. - To what?
To the last time we went fishing.
On the ride home, I had to sit in between
a family size of Salt 'n' Vinnies
and a party pack of Dill Picklers.
Admittedly, last time, things got a little out of whack,
when it comes to the snacks.
We deserve the flak, but now we're back on track.
We have a new plan of attack.
Everything we pack has to fit in this sack.
We made a snack pact.
All these have to start with the letter "C," in fact.
A, stop rhyming. B, why "C"?
- Well, we trieds "A." - Apples.
- And we trieds "B." - Bananas.
But "C" gave us many choice options.
Cookies. Crackers. Cheese. Chocolates.
See? And then we're on to "D," and so forth.
- Mmm. Love the D. - Pardon?
- Why does jerky get to come? - It's caribou jerky.
- What about the nuts? - Corn nuts.
- And the beer? - Cold beer.
There's too much choice in the world.
- How do you fig, Newton? - Well, look at toothpaste.
It used to be just Colgate or Crest.
Now there's like 20 kinds of each.
- Whitening. - Brightening.
- Enlightening. - Goddamn right'ning.
It's goddamn frightening.
Nice work, double D's.
Oh, speaking of double D's,
Mrs. McMurray went to the casino with her pals the other night,
so McMurray and I went to the rippers.
When the cat's away, the mice will play.
Where was my invite?
Get this. One of the stripper's names...
Tell us on the road. Let's go fishin'.
I loves fishin' in Kwee-bec.
Who doesn't love fishing in Kay-bec?
Great fishin' in Kyu-bec.
I fuckin' hate Quebec.
Get this guy a fuckin' Puppers.
I'll get myself a Puppers.
It's nice to have a break from you guys
naming your own burps.
On the way homes, we'll be spelling our own farts.
You pretty near only need consonants for that.
I's and T's, and some P's.
That's maybe smart.
Anywho, about the rippers...
Oh, tell us when you get there.
There's lots of time for telling stories when you go fishin'.
I loves goin' fishings in Kwee-bec.
Who doesn't love fishing in Kay-bec?
It's great fishin' in Kyu-bec.
I fuckin' hate Quebec.
Get this guy a fuckin' Puppers.
And everybody else in it, too.
What's the problem, poopy-pants?
Well, for one thing,
you can never tell what the hell they're sayin'
half the time, that's for one thing.
Ignorance is bliss, bud.
Yeah, they should figures it out.
Maybe you should figure it out.
Okay, you try to name me
one good guy that's a French guy.
You try to name it. Go ahead and try.
I bet Corey Hart's a pretty good guy.
I'm not sure that he's a French guy.
You'd trust somebodys who wears sunglasses at night?
Name me another French guy that's a good guy.
Go ahead and try.
Well, what's about that guy from the alien show?
- 3rd Rock from the Sun? - That's the one.
- John Lithgow? - Nope.
- French Stewart? - Yeah, that's the one.
He's not French.
Well, his name is French.
That guy squints too much.
Well, they can take a walk, the whole lot of 'em.
Dary, I think there's something much deeper at play here.
- Can confirm. - What's the story?
All right, well, so this one time...
Oh, tell us when we get there.
There's lots of time for tellin' stories when you're goin' fishin'.
Great day for sleighin', huh, Dan?
It's a toboggan.
So, Dary, what's the story?
Which one?
I'd hear the ripper story now.
Well, I'd hear why you hate French people so much.
Doesn't hate 'em. He loves 'em, that's the problem.
- No, I don't. - Do too.
- No, I do not. - Yeah, you do.
You love French gals
but hate that they don't love you.
Dary, please explain.
Well, every time there's a French gal I kinda like,
I have a real hard time explaining to her
that I kinda like her 'cause she only speaks French.
And I'm not a good enough lookin' dude
to get by on just my looks.
Aw, Dary.
Give this guy a fuckin' Puppers.
And, if there's like, an English gal I kinda like
but there's a French dude around,
you know she's goin' home with the French dude
'cause the English gals love French dudes.
Can confirm.
And English dudes love French gals.
Can confirm.
That's why they can take a walk, the whole lot of 'em.
All right, well, let's hear the ripper story, then.
- Yeah. - Oh.
Okay.
Okay, so me and McMurray went to the rippers the other night,
and there was this stripper and her name was... All-anus Morissette.
I loves it when they do variations on real people's names.
Like, uh, Avril Vagine.
Nelly Furtaco.
Alec Baldwang.
Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah, yep, but, but...
All-anus Morrisette.
Sm'ellen Degenitals.
Oh, Meryl Strip.
Hannibal Licked-her.
- Dongie Darko. - Count Dracu-load.
Oh, that's a fun one, too,
'cause it lends itself to good costumes.
And that's just so camp.
Yeah, yeah, but no, no, but...
All-anus Morrisette.
Okay, guys...
Who's that?
The French.
- Boys. - Boys.
What is that, you little bitch?
What's the red stuff, schmelts?
- Shred the red, boys. - Shred the red, boys.
Less meals, all wheels.
Protein powder program. Meal suppies.
Meal scheddie looks like this, boys.
Breakfast, Shreddies.
Lunch, shreddy the reddies. Dinner, spaghettis.
Shit.
Only thing about shredding the red
is a few more trips to the shit shed, boys.
A few more trips to brown town, buddy.
Table for one at the Poo-za Hut.
Gotta let the jerseys out of the barn, bro.
You'll be Russian to a state visit with Splat-amir Poo-tin.
Drown a few brown snakes, bro.
Couple of King Cobra coilers, boys.
King Kong coilers, boys.
Fuck my entire fuckin' life,
if you tit-fuckers light a match in here, the whole fuckin' barn's goin' up.
Give your balls a tug.
- Fuck you, Shoresy. - Fuck you, Reilly.
Fight me, see what happens.
Yeah? What's gonna happen, Shoresy?
Three things, I hit you, you hit the pavement,
I jerk off on your driver's side door handle.
- Fuck you, Shoresy. - Fuck you, Jonesy.
Tell your mom to top up the cell phone she bought me
so I can FaceTime her late night.
I don't think we can trust her.
- Pourquoi, Roald? - She's got that look.
What?
You know when somebody comes to your party
and does all your drugs, then tells everybody that you're the drug addict?
Sit.
Stay!
FAK-U's mission moving forward
is hereby labeled, "Operation Gae."
Objective?
Find a way to get Gae back to the city,
- as per her wishes. - Danke schoen.
Danke stop, you're not even German.
Danke shut your mouth, Roald.
Modus operandi, create mailbox mayhem.
Our Operation Gae HQ is here.
During the last gasp of daylight,
we will skulk into our various positions here,
here, here, and here.
Then upon clown sundown,
we will wreak havoc all over town.
We'll deposit the contraband in my trunk
and we will dump our load... here.
In the Dollar Store parking lot.
To clarify, you want to steal mailboxes?
- Affirmative. - That's a federal crime.
Are you scared?
No.
Ooh!
Oh!
Ooh, ooh.
Best of all, Wayne et al.,
will assume the destruction is caused
- by Tanis and her crew again. - It's perfect.
Hey, maybe could urinate in the mailboxes too, you know.
To underline how pissed off we are.
Roald!
You're in FAK-U now.
It's serious.
You're in...
or you're out.
I acquiesce.
We are FAK-U.
Freaks Acting Krazee United!
Give me three good reasons why you feel you must rebel.
I hate the world. I hate my parents.
- I hate myself. - I hate they.
FAK-U!
Not only are they gal hoggers,
they’re louder than a bunch of...
g-goddamn stranded seals over there.
Get this guy a fuckin' Puppers.
I got a Puppers right there.
Hey!
Didn't they teach you how to pipe down in CEGEP?
Hey! He said simmers down, so simmers down!
Why don't you go eat some tartars,
you snails-suckin' mime lovers?
Uh...
I don't know what the fuck you're saying,
but turn that shit down!
I would rather have Celine Dion.
What do they say about arguing with idiots?
They'll drag you down to their level
and beat you with experience.
Over and out. I can be helpful here, fellas.
No we... We got this. We got this.
I still don't know what the fuck you're saying,
but you're saying it now in a hostile tone.
And youse don't speak to us in a hostile tone.
I still don't know what the fuck you're saying,
but other than Georges St-Pierre,
every Frenchman is a fuckin' pussy!
So youse better simmer down and I mean right now!
Well, why don't you go to a poutine festival
in the Thetford Mines?
Bye-bye, mon cowboy!
Why don't you go canoe in the three rivers,
you inbred fur traders?
Go eat a Nanaimo Bar in Kamloops...
I fuckin' know what that means.
I love Nanaimo Bars.
- 'Cause you do pot. - Yeah.
Then why don't you go savagely force feed a duck
and then enjoy your foie gras in a sugar shack, Trudeau?
Why don't you go snowshoe into the Bell Centre
to watch back-to-back sold-out Simple Plan shows,
then go eat some Montreal smoked meat,
you bagel-munching, rope pissers?
Anik!
Pfft! Pfft!
Pfft!
- Pfft! - Pfft!
- No, you're a cock on a vine! - You know what, Dan? Sit down.
You know, this one's off the beaten path a wee bit,
but do you ever notice how French people
go "pfft" at the end of a sentence?
Yeah. Yeah, I've noticed that.
French people do that all the time.
They end a sentence and they go "pfft."
I don't knows if I follows.
Well, like if you were an English person going "pfft" at the end of a sentence,
like French people go "pfft" at the end of the sentence,
the sentence would probably be something like,
"You get so drunk some nights you piss the bed,
but other nights you get so stoned
you can't piss at all, so pfft."
Yeah, or like your guy says, "Sex isn't good anymore."
And you're like, "Well, how do you think I feel?
All you put into it is your dick, pfft."
You wanna know what's kind of fun to make fun of 'em for?
Is if right after they go "pfft," you go... Pfft!
- Do that again. - Pfft!
So like, "You like having casual sex
'cause he gives you some good,
but at the end of the day, he doesn't give you
a goddamn, so, pfft."
- Pfft! - Pfft.
- Pfft! Pfft. - Pfft!
And you know what else?
None of youse knows where to put the S's
in your goddamn sentences.
So why don't you go get tricked by a Just For Laughs Gags
before you have to hold a referendum
to separate my foot from your ass!
Choice words, super chief.
Now that was a big turd, period, brother.
You gotta have a big turd, buddy.
Sniped a penalty shit, bro.
Finally got the poo-er play clickin', bro.
Almost had to "foreshit" the game.
Too many "poo-minute" penalties.
So what? You boys ready to shred the red?
Shreddy the reddy, boys. Try it for praccy.
Not sure I want a trouser brownie, you little bitch. Yorkie?
Not sure I'm up for smuggling Fudgee-Os either, Barts.
Scholtzy.
Not sure I'm up for squishy poopies.
If it ain't yumsies in my tumsies,
my poopies go squishies.
Pussy. Fisky.
I've been stocking nut like Bulk Barn.
- Boomtown! - In.
That's what I fuckin' love about you, Boomtown.
Love the jam, Boomtown. Love it!
Shred the red!
Shred the red. Shred the red!
Shred the red! Shred the red!
Shred the red!
Shred the red! Shred the red!
She is hot.
I'm pretty sure the French word for hot is chaud.
I'd like to chaud her something.
Why don't you invite her to the chaise lounge, Dary?
I would... Except I wouldn't be able to understand
what she's saying half the time.
I'm not a good enough looking guy to get by on just my looks.
Aw, Dary.
Cheer up, Dary. Despite those frogs,
whose wives can't even take their last names...
I'm pretty sure they don't use middle names over there either.
No middle names? It's 2015.
No, it's not.
I loves fishin' in Kwee-bec.
Who doesn't love fishing in Kay-bec?
It's great fishin' in Kyu-bec.
I fuckin' hate Quebec.
Get this guy a fuckin' Puppers.
Pfft!
- Pfft! - Pfft!
Well, I guess everybody understands body language.
Anik is gone forever.
Aw, next time, you'll know to strike while the iron's hot, big shooter.
I just can't catch a break.
- Oh, you got one. - Oh... Hey...
Eh?
Oh, bother.
Oh! Too hot.
I've had a hearty, boys.
Mudslide, budski.
Oh, no. I've shit my pants.
You little bitch. Yorkie.
I've cranked an eight-ball in my sports-shorts.
Scholtzy?
Peek behind door number two to see my little poop de Ville.
It's my little deuce poop. Pussy.
Fisky.
I've had a blumpy.
A grumpy blumpy.
Boomtown?
I'm ready to get the lead out.
I'm ready to...
Wait.
I shit my pants, too.
I'm sorry.
This is on you, you little bitch.
I'm gonna get you, schmelt!
Cops are so dumb. Cops are mushrooms.
I'll need you to expound, Gae.
What do you do with mushrooms?
Are we talking Portobello? Shiitake? Chanterelles?
I can cook, you know.
You give them shit and keep them in the dark.
Roald. Are you afflicted?
What are you...
Ow!
Roald?
Give me three reasons why you feel you must rebel.
I hate the world. I hate my parents.
I hate myself!
As you were.
FAK-U!
What a bust.
Pretty pedestrian effort, super chieftains.
Only fish we caught was the one Cock Cousteau tossed over at us.
I fuckin' hate Quebec.
Can't catch a break here.
Oh, bother.
Degens from up-country.
No ostrich fuckers in Quebec, hicks.
Well, we are way the fucks outnumbered, bud.
It's not how many you win, it's how many you show up for.
- Is that a No Fear slogan? - Likely.
Your brother's hot.
Do you speak English?
Yes.
No problem. Of course.
Well, it's best to avoid a scrap when you're goin' fishin'.
But you hate degens from up country too, huh?
Yeah?
And where exactly is up-country Kyu-bec?
My whole life, I've hated the French.
You can't understand what they're saying half the fuckin' time.
And I couldn't land one of your beautiful women
if my life depended on it.
As far as I'm concerned,
youse can take a walk, the lot of youse.
But then youse had our back today.
- Yeah. - Oui.
I loves me fishin' in Kwee-bec.
Who doesn't love fishing in Kay-bec?
Great fishin' in Kyu-bec.
I fuckin' love Quebec.
- Hear, hear! - Cheers!
Santé!
Thank you.
I'm Anik.
I'm Daryl.
I think you're really good-looking.
Um, I was looking at you and I see you look at me so, pfft.
Pfft!
You speak English.
Pretty much everyone in Quebec does.
Wow.
Do you like Alanis Morissette?
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