The Beaver Page #3

Hey, will you hold on for a second?

No one sent me.

I really need help.

Look, you're the valedictorian, all right.

You have a 4.0.

I copy off of you in calculus.

Why would you want me

to write you a paper?

It's not a paper.

It's my graduation speech.

Save your money.

No one gives a sh*t about those things.

Yeah, well, my mom will. So...

Not that I'm saying that

you write other people's papers for them,

but if you did, I hear that you're really

good at making yourself sound like them.

Getting inside their heads.

That's what I need.

- No way.

- Why?

Because it's one thing for your little

anorexia squad to get by on their looks.

That's all they've got.

But for someone like you, it's just lazy.

Hold on.

Wait a minute.

Does this look lazy to you?

That is 428 pages of lazy.

And if you don't want to take my money

because you're just dying to see me

make an ass of myself, then that's fine.

But don't you dare call me lazy.

Douche.

Thank you very much.

You want olives in your salad?

- Yeah.

- Here you go. Watch this.

Would you like some more?

- What the...

- There he is. Hello.

My card.

We was afraid we'd have

to start without you.

This is a joke, right?

No, son, it's a fresh start.

Have you completely lost your mind?

- I know it seems a bit...

- I'm not talking to you, nut job.

I'm talking to Mom.

It takes you years to get him out of here,

and you let him come back the next night

with a talking hamster?

Failure on this scale

doesn't happen overnight.

Still I can't believe

that you guys made that.

I mean, you never... I mean, Walter never...

I'm sorry. I'm not quite sure

how I'm supposed to address you.

Well, you're doing fine, love.

Well, tools were always

on your Christmas list,

but I had no idea that you knew

how to actually make anything.

He's a beaver, Mom. That's what they do.

Yeah. Spot on, mate.

But, you know, Walter

wasn't half-bad himself, at one time.

Yeah? Who taught him?

I suppose he taught himself.

He was about your age, yeah. Cub Scouts.

He and his pop were supposed

to make a racecar for a contest.

Except, his pop weren't around

so he had to do it himself.

Where was his dad?

He got very sad and he had an accident.

You mean Grandpa Jerry

from the graveyard?

Right-o. Anyway, Walter had Grandpa's

tools but no clue how to use them.

So, what he ended up making was so awful

that it looked like he'd screwed a set

of wheels onto a piece of dog crap.

And you know what the other kids called it?

The Turd. That was generous, mate.

One lady threw up all over herself

just 'cause it got close to her.

But when it came to racing...

What?

The Turd could not be beat.

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