Cabin Fever Page #4

- Jeff:
Freak.|- Karen: I thought he was funny.

Bert:
|How did it work?

What do you mean "how"?|It had a hose...

a bunch of different settings,

pulse, power...

stream.

And you came every time?

Totally.

You can imagine my disappointment|the first time I had sex.

Tell me about it.

What's that supposed|to mean?

- I've got a better story.|- Paul: I'm sorry,

but no story is better|than Karen and the shower massage.

No, seriously.

One time I was masturbating...

and my dog came up|and started licking my balls.

Right as I came it stuck|its tongue up my ass.

That's serious f***ing|masturbation talent right there.

F***ing good.

He'd better have brought more weed|or I won't let him in.

Relax, pal.|I'm coming.

His name's Grim.

Jesus Christ.

Help me...|please.

I need a doctor.

Oh sh*t.

Man:
Doctor.

Yeah, all right.

Somebody grab a blanket|or something.

You...

you shot me.

No, no, no.

There's no way this contagious|f***er's coming in here.

- He's sick, for Christ's sake.|- You want him to come in here

and touch all of your sh*t,|your f***ing soap...?

Let's throw him|a blanket or something.

- Or your douche?|- Let's drive him to a doctor.

He's not coming in!

We're out of range.|I'm not getting anything.

- F***!

- What's that?|- He's in the car.

What?

- Jeff:
Motherf***er.

- Karen:
Why's he f***ing with us?|- Grab your gun.

F***!

Hurry up!|He's in the car already!

Get out of the f***ing car!

Get out of there.|Get out of the car!

Get out!|Get out of the f***ing car!

F***!

Get the f*** out!|Get out of there!

- F***er!

- You shot the car!

What was I supposed to do?

Oh my God!

F***!

Paul:
Sh*t!

Sh*t!

Oh!

- Get him!|- He's coming towards us.

Stop or I'll f***ing|stab you!

Stop! Stop!

Back off.

F*** off!|Leave us alone!

F*** off!

I know. I know.

What else were we gonna do?

First he gets his sh*t|all over the car,

and I don't want him|touching me, you, or anybody.

I think the rain will|put him out.

He's dead anyway.|You saw that sh*t on him.

He looked like he was|skinned alive.

We have to tell the police|it wasn't our fault.

I think we should tell them now.

Calm down.

There's nothing we can do.|The car's f***ed.

We need a mechanic. We'll find|somebody who knows one,

and then we'll report|the accident.

That's the keyword here.|It was an accident.

Paul:
The guy's skin...

holy sh*t.

You should clean up some|of this sh*t while we're gone.

I'll save some for you guys.

- Just stick with the girls.|- What's that supposed to mean?

It means you're|a f***ing p*ssy.

That's f***ed up.

What's f***ed up is you beating|the sh*t out of my truck.

What about the jag-off|with the rifle?

Did you forget about him?

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