The Devil's Rejects Page #5

of a horrific multiple murder.

- No telling how many...

- God damn it!

F***!

...in the process

of recovering the corpses

which are in varying states

of decomposition.

It's currently being treated

as a sign of a mass homicide.

If initial figures prove...

Come on, honey.

Mommy has to get to work.

If I'm late one more time,

Mr. McDonnell is gonna can my ass.

I am hurrying!

I dropped something.

Will you get in the car?!

Okay, come on, let's go get in.

- Mom, a clown.

- Yeah yeah, a clown.

Oh... hi.

Hi. I'm gonna have to

be taking your car today.

See, I have some

top-secret clown business

that supersedes any plans that you

might have for this here vehicle.

What's that about clown business?

Do I stutter, b*tch?

Jamie, get in the car.

Lock the door.

Where the hell you going?

Damn it.

Don't you never turn your back

on a f***ing clown

- when he's talking to you!

- Get your f***ing hands off of me!

What's the matter, kid?

Don't you like clowns?

Why? Don't we

make you laugh?

Aren't we f***ing funny?

You best come up with an answer

'cause I'm gonna come back here

and check on you and your mama.

If you ain't got a reason

why you hate clowns,

I'm gonna kill your

whole f***ing family.

All right, now get

your f***ing ass out the car!

Go on!

Yeah yeah yeah yeah!

Sh*t! Woo!

Chinese, Japanese,

dirty knees, look at these.

Chinese, Japanese,

dirty knees, look at these.

Chinese, Japanese,

dirty knees, look at these.

Hoss, are you staring

at my sister thinking bad thoughts?

No.

Why not? You a f*ggot?

No.

Well, what are you?

I mean, you got this hot piece of ass

shaking her sh*t right

in front of you

and you're not getting any ideas?

What do you call that?

I'm a married man.

A married f***ing man.

Hey, that's just great!

Let's give him a big round

of applause, folks, for the married man!

- Come on!

Woo! Married man!

All right. Wow.

Okay, Mama,

front and center, on your feet.

Don't hurt her.

Get on your feet.

Come on.

Let's go.

Please, mister,

this is insane.

Boy... the next word

that comes outta your mouth

better be some brilliant

f***ing Mark Twain sh*t,

'cause it's definitely getting

chiseled on your tombstone.

Okay, come on, Mama.

Take that sh*t off,

let's see what's been holding Hoss's

balls at attention all these years.

What?

What? Take off your clothes,

or one of these a**holes

is going to die.

Come on, come on.

Sh*t, way to go, Roy!

She ain't too bad.

She got a tight

little ass on her!

And she got some

child-rearing hips.

Huh, yeah, hey.

Please don't hurt me.

Please don't hurt me.

Here, ooh, Jeez.

Roy, beginning to see what you mean.

Whoa.

Please don't hurt me.

Rate this script:3.0 / 2 votes