As the Blues wait for their charter flight to be ready Thursday night, they start to egg each other on.
C'mon, Iceberg, just do it.
C'mon. Do it.
I don'ts knowing. Maybe not cools?
Do it, man. Everyone thinks you should. Right Walt?
Leave me out of it, flaired hair.
OK, Gramps.
Yo, Backs! What up, Connect Four! Tell TechnoViking he should use the Swedish.
Meatballs. Do it.
Fines. But only because it's big Backs with the big games.
[Ringtone: The Lemonheads, Big Gay Heart.]
Hallo, anfalla Kung de Hockeyslummen.
God dag, jog er sett for Kungen av Shittown?
Vad den fuck?
He is not happies.
Dude. Ask for TechnoViking.
Ar TechnoViking dar?
Vanta en for minut.
(eyebrow raise)
Genius! Keep going! Hey, Forty Dub, it's working!
IKEA, you keep going.
(nodding, laughing) You go Backs.
You mean 'gots it Blacks'.
NO! No, no. He means, 'You got it Backs'.
You got what backs?
Jesus.
Leave us?
Perron!
Sorry Blacks.
No. Not at all. Not even close.
Hallo? Hallo?
Hallo? Is this... is this...
Do it. Put it on speakerphone.
[speakerphone activated] ...Is this Frankenstein's Monster?
Momma! How are you? Did you see my goal tonight? How is Poppa? Are his open wounds healing?
Um. They are healing poorly.
Again? Do they still itch and have the bugs?
Of course they do. Can we talk to the King of Shittown now?
Ja!
(shaking head)
Go for Teeth!
Hallo horseface, how's your game?
Poppa? Poppa's man-friend? Who is this?
Poppa's man-servant? Who is this?
(shrugs)
Fix it, Swede.
I'm looking for the rookie, Horse-face.
Oh! OK, Poppa! Say hallo to the man-servant boyfriends for me!
Hallo? Vem em han dar?
Hi, Dumbass! It's your father! I heard you were minus-4 tonight.
Yes, sir, it's true. But I just can't help it. I play on a great team, I have lots of Swedish teammates. I should be able to do well and have fun, but....
But what, dicks for brains?
Well, it's just... it's just true what they say...
What's that, son?
It's just that it's true...
"DETROIT SUCKS!"
Wha?
Fan ta Detroit, dummy! [Click]
Shit. Nicklas! It happened again....