Idle Hands

Molly's lived across the street
for, like, what, ever?

Tell her about your
obsession with her.

-Start by telling her your name.
-Yeah, man. She's waiting for you.

She's not waiting for me.
Would you stop being such a puss
and go, like, ask her to the dance?

What dance?
lf you'd been to school recently,
you'd know.

Halloween thing in the gym?
9:00 curfew?
No trick-or-treating allowed?

Dumb-ass dance is the only option.
You guys going?
Hell, no. Can you see us
in stupid-ass costumes?

Grooving to Hanson and Jewel?
What do we look like,
total losers, man?

l see your point.
She dropped her lyrics book.
She'll catch you reading that
over her shoulder in biology.

Her songs are badass.
She's like a poet or something.

Go bring it back to her.
Be like a knight in shining armour.

She'd be all grateful, invite me in,
offer me a drink, l'd accept.

She'd rip your clothes off...
...and make sweet love to you,
Red Shoe Diary-style.

-Could happen.

Just go talk to her, man!
Maybe she'll think you're funny
or something.

You know what?
l think l'm going to.
You want to borrow some pants, chief?
First impressions and all.
You're a bud.
Think he's gonna do it?
So you gotta reach.
You're getting Cheezy Poofs everywhere.
You gotta open your mouth, man.
Lookie what l found.
l thought you were dry.
l guess not.
Fire me up.