Jean Roqua:
[Jake is considering going to the Beatdown] Do this and you can never come back in my gym again. I let you get away with it once, not twice.
Jake Tyler:
Wait! You think this is what I want? To never train with you again? Just to give some asshole the show that he's looking for?
Jean Roqua:
Then stop! Let it go.
Jake Tyler:
The night my dad died, I just let him drive. I didn't even try to stop him. Doing nothing has consequences too.
Jean Roqua:
You cannot live in the past, my friend.
Jake Tyler:
Really? If you could go back, and stop the guy who shot your brother.
Jean Roqua:
Don't push me.
Jake Tyler:
I know you would've fought that guy. I know...
Jean Roqua:
You know nothing! Seven years. Seven years, I've not seen my family. My friends. And every day, like the day before, I wake up, wash my face, look myself in the mirror, disgusted.
Jake Tyler:
Why not go back?
Jean Roqua:
And face my father? The last time he spoke to me, he said both of his sons died that night.
Jake Tyler:
Well if that's what you believe, then he was right. You gave up. Sometimes fighting the fight means that you have to do the one thing you don't want to do. You have to fight for his forgiveness. You can't just hide here forever. At least I can't. I'm gonna stop this guy. Win, lose, it makes no difference. It ends tonight. This is my fight. Everyone's got one.
Jean Roqua:
Jake, no matter what happens, control the outcome. It's on you.
Jake Tyler:
Always has been.
Mr. Pink:
Hey, why am I Mr. Pink?
Joe:
Because you're a faggot.
Mr. Pink:
Why can't we pick our own colors?
Joe:
No way, no way. Tried it once, doesn't work. You got four guys all fighting over who's gonna be Mr. Black, but they don't know each other, so nobody wants to back down. No way. I pick. You're Mr. Pink. Be thankful you're not Mr. Yellow.
Mr. Brown:
Yeah, but Mr. Brown is a little too close to Mr. Shit.
Mr. Pink:
Mr. Pink sounds like Mr. Pussy. How 'bout if I'm Mr. Purple? That sounds good to me. I'll be Mr. Purple.
Joe:
You're not Mr. Purple. Some guy on some other job is Mr. Purple. Your Mr. PINK.
Mr. White:
Who cares what your name is?
Mr. Pink:
Yeah, that's easy for your to say, you're Mr. White. You have a cool-sounding name. Alright look, if it's no big deal to be Mr. Pink, you wanna trade?
Joe:
Hey! NOBODY'S trading with ANYBODY. This ain't a goddamn, fucking city council meeting, you know. Now listen up, Mr. Pink. There's two ways you can go on this job: my way or the highway. Now what's it gonna be, Mr. Pink?
Mr. Pink:
Jesus Christ, Joe, fucking forget about it. It's beneath me. I'm Mr. Pink. Let's move on.
Joe:
I'll move on when I feel like it... All you guys got the goddamn message?... I'm so goddamn mad, hollering at you guys I can hardly talk. Pssh. Let's go to work.
Garfield:
Holy cow. I could hear my footsteps. Mom... Dad... I'm home.
Winston:
Your highness!
Garfield:
You're talking to me, froggy?
Winston:
It's me, your trusty servant, Winston.
Garfield:
Hey... [shows off some fighting moves]
Garfield:
Warning, I don't fight fair. I scratch, and I bite.
Winston:
It's alright, sire. All is well now, your home.
Garfield:
Home? A retirement home, a happy home? So what is this... is this an insane asylum? Am I being kidnapped?
Winston:
Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, sire. Your loyal subjects await you. They need to be comforted by your word.
Garfield:
Hey... trust me, windbag. There's no way I'm gonna give a speech to a bunch of deranged...
Winston:
And then of course, following your words, a royal feast.
Garfield:
[interested] I think I'm just gonna do a tight two minutes, see if that will calm 'em down, okay?
Dr. Stephen Maturin:
Mr Blakeney, it would appear that you have the makings of a naturalist.
Blakeney:
Well, sir, perhaps I could combine them to be a sort of... fighting naturalist, like you, sir.
Dr. Stephen Maturin:
They don't combine too well, I find. Right... [about to get up even though he's still recovering from injury]
Blakeney:
Should you really be getting up, sir?
Dr. Stephen Maturin:
Mr Blakeney, are you also a doctor?
Blakeney:
No, sir.
Dr. Stephen Maturin:
No, you're not. [gets up]
Ross Giggins:
Turning now to sports... [Cindy types new text for the teleprompter]
Ross Giggins:
and an evil video tape that kills anyone who watches it in seven days. It's true. We're all in danger. There's an alien force that's trying prevent you from knowing the truth.
Carson Ward:
Oh, no. Campbell, are you insane?
Ross Giggins:
It's a horrible fate.
Cindy:
Carson, I have to do this. [Ward types his text]
Ross Giggins:
Correction, there really is no danger. Actually, I didn't really mean anything I just said. Yes, I did. Every word of it. Everyone watching this could be dead in a week. [everybody's fighting over the telemprompter keyboard, the janitor sits on it]
Ross Giggins:
Oh, shizl gzngahr, % + 7, , 193419 ckin etd vaus erstn gubl chn q shnitzi guorsn blkn (, , 18 469 [Janitor takes over the keyboard]
Ross Giggins:
I been cleanin' after this dumb-ass cracker Giggins for ten years, but I been hittin' it with his woman for twelve. Know what I'm sayin', nigga? She likes her some chocolate. Sharpton for President y'all. I'm outie.
Chris Berman:
From Champs to chumps. Just six months ago, The Texas State Fighting Armadillos were billed as the greatest college football team in history, and now, they are history. Yesterday, the commision slapped Texas State with a staggering list of infractions including recruiting violations, steroid abuse, illegal payments to players and , of course, grade tampering. To where these guys are going, their yearbook photos will be used as mugshots. Joining us tonight is our guest commentator, the legendary Ed "Straight Arrow" Gennero, the man who once threw five All-Americans off his football team for taking money from boosters, but still won the Cotton Bowl. Thanks for joining us tonight, coach.
Coach Gennero:
Good to be here, Chris.
Chris Berman:
Coach, what's the latest on the Armadillos?
Coach Gennero:
Well, Chris, the penalty handed down to Texas State will set an example for the future of College Football.
Chris Berman:
What happened to the players?
Coach Gennero:
All the players from the old team have been expelled and all the coaches have been fired.
Chris Berman:
Where will they get their new players?
Coach Gennero:
Their new players must be real students. No more scholarships, no more monkey business, no more special favors or else no more football.
[first lines]
Narrator:
In the New York Herald, November 26, year 1911, there is an account of the hanging of three men. They died for the murder of Sir Edmund William Godfrey; Husband, Father, Pharmacist and all around gentle-man resident of: Greenberry Hill, London. He was murdered by three vagrants whose motive was simple robbery. They were identified as: Joseph Green, Stanley Berry, and Daniel Hill. Green, Berry, Hill. And I Would Like To Think This was Only A Matter Of Chance. As reported in the Reno Gazette, June of 1983 there is the story of a fire, the water that it took to contain the fire, and a scuba diver named Delmer Darion. Employee of the Peppermill Hotel and Casino, Reno, Nevada. Engaged as a blackjack dealer. Well liked and well regarded as a physical, recreational and sporting sort, Delmer's true passion was for the lake. As reported by the coroner, Delmer died of a heart attack somewhere between the lake and the tree. A most curious side note is the suicide the next day of Craig Hansen. Volunteer firefighter, estranged father of four and a poor tendency to drink. Mr. Hansen was the pilot of the plane that quite accidentally lifted Delmer Darion out of the water. Added to this, Mr. Hansen's tortured life met before with Delmer Darion just two nights previous. The weight of the guilt and the measure of coincidence so large, Craig Hansen took his life. And I Am Trying To Think This Was All Only A Matter Of Chance. The tale told at a 1961 awards dinner for the American Association Of Forensic Science by Dr. Donald Harper, president of the association, began with a simple suicide attempt. Seventeen-year-old Sydney Barringer. In the city of Los Angeles on March 23, 1958. The coroner ruled that the unsuccessful suicide had suddenly become a successful homicide. To explain: The suicide was confirmed by a note, left in the breast pocket of Sydney Barringer. At the same time young Sydney stood on the ledge of this nine-story building, an argument swelled three stories below. The neighbors heard, as they usually did, the arguing of the tenants and it was not uncommon for them to threaten each other with a shotgun, or one of the many handguns kept in the house. And when the shotgun accidentaly went off, Sydney just happend to pass. Added to this, the two tenants turned out to be: Faye and Arthur Barringer. Sydney's mother and Sydney's father. When confronted with the charge, which took some figuring out for the officers on the scene of the crime, Faye Barringer swore that she did not know that the gun was loaded. A young boy who lived in the building, sometimes a visitor and friend to Sydney Barringer, said that he had seen, six days prior, the loading of the shotgun. It seems that the arguing and the fighting and all of the violence was far too much for Sydney Barringer, and knowing his mother and father's tendency to fight, he decided to do something. Sydney Barringer jumps from the ninth floor rooftop. His parents argue three stories below. Her accidental shotgun blast hits Sydney in the stomach as he passes the arguing sixth-floor window. He is killed instantly but continues to fall, only to find, three stories below, a safety net installed three days prior for a set of window washers that would have broken his fall and saved his life if not for the hole in his stomach. So Faye Barringer was charged with the murder of her son, and Sydney Barringer noted as an accomplice in his own death. And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that this is not just "Something That Happened." This cannot be "One of Those Things... ” This, please, cannot be that. And for what I would like to say, I can't. This Was Not Just A Matter Of Chance. Ohhhh. These strange things happen all the time.
