A teenager has to deal with his girlfriend dumping him among family crises, homicidal paper boys, and a rival skier.

Paperboy: Two dollars!
Charles De Mar: I've been going to this high school for seven and a half years. I'm no dummy. I know high school girls.
[Lane waves to two tree trimmers from the cargo hold of a garbage truck]
Tree Trimmer: [to fellow tree trimmer] Now that's a real shame when folks be throwin' away a perfectly good white boy like that.
Johnny: I want my two dollars!
Charles De Mar: This is pure snow! It's everywhere! Do you have any idea what the street value of this mountain is?
Lane Myer: Johnny...
Johnny: Four weeks, twenty papers, that's two dollars. Plus tip.
Lane Myer: Gee Johnny, I don't have a dime.
Johnny: Didn't ask for a dime. Two dollars.
Lane Myer: Well... it's funny see... my mom, had to leave early to take my brother to school and my dad to work cuz...
Johnny: ...two dollars... cash.
Lane Myer: See... the problem here is that... my little brother, this morning, got his arm caught in the microwave, and uh... my grandmother dropped acid and she freaked out, and hijacked a school bus full of... penguins, so it's kind of a family crisis... so come back later? Great.
Charles De Mar: [giving skiing instructions] Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way, turn.
Lane Myer: Uh, hello?
Monique Junot: Ah, bonjour.
Lane Myer: Monique, hi.
Monique Junot: Comment allez-vous?
Lane Myer: No thanks, I already had breakfast.
Lane Myer: [talking about skiing the K-12] Look Charles, I gotta do this. If I don't, I'll be nothing. I'll end up like my neighbor Ricky Smith. He just sits around crocheting all day and snorting nasal spray.
Charles De Mar: He snorts nasal spray? Know where I can score some?
Lane Myer: ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OR NOT?
Monique Junot: I figured if we had nothing to say to each other he would get bored; go away. But instead he uses it as an excuse to put his testicles all over me.
Lane Myer: Excuse me?
Monique Junot: You know, like octopus? Testicles?
Lane Myer: Ohhhh. Tentacles. N-T. Tentacles; big Difference.
Lane Myer: Gee, I'm real sorry your mom blew up, Ricky.
Charles De Mar: And dying when you're not really sick is really sick, you know. Really!
Charles De Mar: [about Lane] Man, you're the hottest thing since sunburns!
Monique Junot: I think all you need is a small taste of success, and you will find it suits you.
Lane Myer: [indicating to Mrs. Smith's accident] Gee, I'm really sorry your mom blew up, Ricky, guess she won't be able to eat any spicy foods for awhile.
Lane Myer: Two brothers... One speaks no English, the other learned English from watching "The Wide World of Sports." So you tell me... Which is better, speaking no English at all, or speaking Howard Cosell?
Lane Myer: She only speaks French, Roy. She doesn't speak imbecile.
Mailman: What's a little boy like you doing with big boy smut like this?
Lane Myer: [Indicates Monique] Her?
Mrs. Smith: Mm-hmm.
Lane Myer: [Indicates Ricky] And him?
Mrs. Smith: Mmmm-hm.
Lane Myer: That makes sense.
Lane Myer: I have great fear of tools. I once made a birdhouse in woodshop and the fair housing committee condemned it. I can't.
Monique Junot: "I cannot do it" is your middle name.
Charles De Mar: The K-12 dude. You make a gnarly run like that and girls will get sterile just looking at you.
Roy Stalin: You'd make a fine little helper. What's your name?
Charles De Mar: Charles De Mar.
Roy Stalin: Shut up, geek.
Monique Junot: So you won't tell anyone?
Lane Myer: What, that you're a Dodgers fan?
Mrs. Smith: [Imploring her son to fight with Lane] Ricky, do something to him!
Yee Sook Ree: Truly a sight to behold. A man beaten. The once great champ, now, a study in moppishness. No longer the victory hungry stallion we've raced so many times before, but a pathetic, washed up, aged ex-champion.
Lane Myer: Alright let's go!
[Crashes]
Charles De Mar: Wait, wait a minute...
[starts to snort snow off his top hat]
Charles De Mar: [sniff] Oh.
[shouts]
Charles De Mar: Oh! Ugh! Outrageous!
[raises right hand]
Charles De Mar: [shouts] I think I just froze the left half of my brain!
[waves arm in circles]
Charles De Mar: [shouts] Look! I can't move my right arm!
Lane Myer: This isn't funny, Charles! If I don't have a dream, I have nothing!
Charles De Mar: Ah, come on! It's Christmas Eve! I could be home right now, drinking this *monster* eggnog my brother makes with lighter fluid.
Rocko: You look pretty stupid to me.
Lane Myer: Thank you.
Jenny Myer: Hello Lane. How was your day?
Lane Myer: Beth broke up with me.
Jenny Myer: Oh, heh, that's nice.
Jenny Myer: [regarding the blob of food] It's got raisins in it... you like raisins.
Jenny Myer: First, we have: Frawnch fries.
Jenny Myer: And: Frawnch dressing.
Jenny Myer: And: Frawnch bread.
Jenny Myer: And to drink: Ta-da! Peru.
Charles De Mar: Greendale is a bodaciously small town, Lane. A fly speck on the map - a rest stop on the way to the ski slope. I can't even get real drugs here!
[holds up a bottle of whipped cream]
Jenny Myer: Hello, Lane. How was your day?
Lane Myer: [devastated] Beth broke up with me.
Jenny Myer: Oh, that's nice.
Lane Myer: One night with me and she'll probably go blind with ecstasy. Poor creature. Gee, I hope she doesn't grab onto my leg and start crying once the date's over. What would I do?
Charles De Mar: Suicide is never the answer, little trooper.
Paperboy: I want my two dollars.
Charles De Mar: Buck up little camper, we'll beat that slope together.
Roy Stalin: Alright, who wants to hold my clipboard?
[Beth raises her hand]
Roy Stalin: Well you'll make a fine little helper. What's your name?
Charles De Mar: [Thinking Roy has referenced him] Charles De Mar!
Roy Stalin: Shut up, geek.
[to Beth]
Roy Stalin: What's YOUR name?
Jenny Myer: [ladles an unidentifiable gelatinous substance onto dinner plates] I got the recipe from a magazine. The mail got wet in the rain, so some of the pages ran together, but what I couldn't read I just... improvised with my own little... creative ideas. It's got raisins in it. You *like* raisins.

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