VERONICA restlessly rocks on a couch with increasingly
unguarded annoyance. Excitedly insensitive to her words, J.D.
spins the tuner of his radio, headphones pressed to one ear.
VERONICA
That thing this afternoon...I'm so angry! It was like "Boy, isn't death fun!" "Gee, I wonder who'll die next!" "I'll bet we get four camera crews next time." It was chaos. Fucking chaos.
J.D. giddily pivots around, tearing the headphones from the
radio and causing a blast of static to accompany his words.
J.D.
What are you talking about? Today was great. Chaos is great. Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling, and it's what's going to make Westerburg a purified place to get an education. Face it, our way is the way. We scare people into not being assholes.
VERONICA
(a ticking time bomb)
Our way is not our way.
J.D.
Tell that to the judge; "Your honor, I was led to believe there were Ich Luge bullets in the gun." Tell it to Kurt Kelly! "Don't shoot, Veronica, I'm the quarterback."
J.D. goes into a Sonny-Corleone-at-the-Turnpike imitation.
VERONICA throws the first thing she can get her hands on, a
framed picture of a woman, at the vibrating J.D.
VERONICA
I'm telling it to you! You! Nothing good can come from suicide, from murder, from death. Nothing! Nothing except more death and shit like that feeding frenzy this afternoon....Geez, what am I..who... Unnaah! You can be so immature!
J.D.
(looking off)
You kids are making too much damn noise.
BIG BUD DEAN is revealed to be standing in the front doorway,
holding a chest exerciser and waving a videocassette.
BIG BUD DEAN
We beat the bitches.
VERONICA
(mumbling)
Oh beautiful. The Beaver's home.
BIG BUD DEAN
Judge told em to slurp shit and die.
BIG BUD moves to the Entertainment console, turns off the
radio and turns on the V.C.R. He crams the cassette in and
hefts up his chest exerciser. He begins pumping away as the
image of a shabby building appears on the massive T.V.
BIG BUD DEAN
I put a Norwegian in the boiler room. Masterful. When that blew, it set off a pack of thermals I'd stuck upstairs.
The building blows up. BIG BUD cackles. J.D. politely
applauds. BUD pops out the videocassete and bounces away.
BIG BUD DEAN
It's great to be alive!
VERONICA
Do you like your father?
J.D.
Never given the matter much thought. Liked my mother.
J.D. picks up the framed picture that Veronica threw.
J.D.
They said her death was an accident. But she knew when the explosives were set to go off. She knew...
VERONICA slowly sits down next to J.D. with dazed concern.
VERONICA
In some sick way, we unclogged the sinuses of the school. But if were going to keep the school healthy, it's gotta be through something having to do with life, not death.
J.D
Whoa, Metaphor Tennis anyone? Tell me, if you put a Nazi in a concentration camp, does that make you a Nazi?
VERONICA
Maybe.
J.D. exhales in frustration before bounding up from the couch
to turn back on the radio.
D.J. (Radio)
Dudes, if I get one more request for that BigFun song I'm going to committ suicide. Here it is......
J.D.
(malevolently)
They're playing our song....
As the "song" kicks in (a bunch of guys shouting over a drum
machine), J.D. seductively moves toward VERONICA, semi-lip-
syncing it. As a seethingly angry but not unaroused
VERONICA watches, J.D. slithers onto the couch.
BIGFUN (Radio)
TIMES ARE MEAN FOR A TEEN--WE KNOW! PARENTS IGNORE, TEACHERS BORE--WE KNOW! BUT THERE'S MORE THAN ONE WAY TO GO! TEENAGE SUICIDE; DON'T DO IT! TEENAGE SUICIDE; DON'T DO IT!
J.D. stops his seduction and rips out a gun. He giddily fires
into the radio, destroying it.
VERONICA
That's it, we're breaking up.
J.D.
Wha-a-a-t?
J.D. playfully tackles the fleeing VERONICA. This calms rather
than angers. She turns on her back. J.D. follows suit.
J.D.
You can't bring them back. You must know that.
VERONICA
I'm not trying to "bring back" anybody...except maybe myself.
VERONICA sighs, then rolls over into a crawling position and
eventually into a walking-out-the-door position.
VERONICA
To think there was a time when I thought you were cool. If you can't deal with me now, just stay home and shoot your T.V., blow away a couple toasters or something. Just don't come to school and don't mess with me.
J.D.
You'll be back!
J.D. slowly sits up and with both hands, puts his gun in his
mouth. He pauses, lets go of the gun, and then biting down on
the barrel of the gun, J.D. proceeds to broodingly tie his
shoes.