Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk Page #4

Make yourself at home.

You need anything, you let me know.

I think, uh... I think she likes you.

- Don't you f***ing lie to me.

- Hey. Stand down now,

or I'll have both of you

running laps around the stadium.

- Excuse me.

- Look at all these people.

What do you think they're thinking about?

Oh, heavy stuff.

God. Philosophy.

The meaning of life.

There it is.

You look good.

You are a sh*t liar.

Thank you.

Hey, the doctor said, uh,

and I'm quoting here,

my face is 87% healed.

And check it out.

It's two more operations,

and that is goodbye, Miss Frankenstein.

How about you?

You gettin' any?

None of your business.

Yeah, well, that's a big fat no.

So you've killed for your country

and you're still a virgin.

- If that's not a sign of how f***ed...

- So, how are things here?

Don't change the subject.

You better be out there gettin' some, boy.

Are you?

Um, guess.

Some nights I'm like,

whatever, maybe I'll just go

cruise the high school boys

and be like,

"Hey, bubba, take a ride with me.

"Once you've had a girl

with a scar on her face..."

So, how are things here?

I worry about you.

I can't stop worrying about you.

I feel so responsible.

I'm all right.

Your bad.

Thanks for getting me in this sh*t, Kat.

You know what I mean.

Billy, what the f*** are you doing?

Let's see what this bad boy can do.

I'm not getting an Article 15

because of you.

If they let us Texans all drive,

there'd be no need

for PT belts and safety briefs.

Just 'cause you were conceived in a truck

- doesn't mean you got to die in one.

- Watch this.

- Oh, sh*t.

- It could save your life someday.

- F***! Stop!

- Whoo!

Oh, sh*t!

Private Lynn, you are one delinquent punk!

No excuse, Sergeant.

That is correct, Private Lynn.

There is no excuse for your existence.

You got a long, glorious history

of being a sh*t-bag, don't you?

We heard all about your

criminal butt-fuckery in Texas.

But, Billy,

you're no longer in Texas.

So speak up!

Sergeant Breem, Sergeant Dime,

I'm just bustin' my ass tryin'

to be a credit to my platoon.

What in the world led you to believe

you could join the infantry?

You know, the Army needs

flute players, too.

I want to defend my homeland, Sergeant.

Bullshit. Keep running.

Hunt down terrorists.

Well, let us know when you find them.

Bring democracy to Iraq.

Lynn, your stupidity

is robbing this world of oxygen,

and I won't stand for it!

Get to the pull-up bars.

Private, did I say recover?

I did it for my sister.

Okay, drop.

Your sister?

Continue, Private Lynn.

My sister Kathryn,

sophomore year at college,

was driving home from work.

Heavy rain.

Big Mercedes goes into a spin,

broadsides her.

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