- Barb, where's Ricky? - He's in the trailer.
Let's go get him.
- Holy fuck! [screaming]
Ricky!
Ricky?!
What in the fuck?!
- Fuck. Are you guys alright? She blew.
Ricky!
- Ricky! - Holy fuck!
- I thought you were a goner. Your cigarettes are on fire!
- Oh, Ricky. - Put 'em down.
- Jesus, the hot tub saved me. It must be fire retardant
or something. It saved me. What the fuck happened?
- When we saw Lahey earlier, he had two full propane tanks,
he was drunk as fuck and he pissed himself.
I think he's trying to kill you, Rick.
- Julian, Lahey's way too fucking stupid
to come up with this shit.
- Tick-tock, tick-tock, the shit clock's ticking, Rick.
- You trying to fucking kill me, huh?
What the fuck did I ever do to you?
Jim Lahey, you are sick!
- Listen, the cops found the dope fields.
- What? - We just heard it on the news.
They didn't find the big one, though. Up by Highway 5.
We gotta harvest tonight, Ricky. Come on, get it together.
- Fuck, we're probably not going to be able to use this truck.
How are we gonna get the dope to Moncton?
- Don't worry about that. - Come on, Ricky.
- Well, wait a second, Ricky. Don't you think that we ought
to call the fire department or something, honey?
- Barb, it's a little fucking worse than it looks, so fuck it.
I gotta get some cigarettes and cops and dope and...
I gotta get something to eat.
[music]
- What the fuck? Ricky, where the fuck are Corey and Trevor?
They better not be in that fucking trailer.
- They weren't fucking in there. I don't know where they're at.
It's not my fault they got off their leeches. Guess what else?
Fuck Corey and Trevor. Lucy, smokes, let's go.
- Fuck you! - You know what, Ricky?
You better start caring about what happens to Corey and Trevor
- or you're going to be sorry. - Oh, is that right?
- Yeah, it is right, Ricky. - Nice, girls. Great.
- Real nice to see you. - Nice.
- Come on, Ricky. We gotta get to the dope field.
- Go get changed and hurry up. - I gotta get changed too.
I can't harvest dope in my good clothes. They'll get ruined.
- Bubbles, you gotta hurry up. We got no time to waste here.
Jesus, Ricky!
Officer George Green, please.
Ah, oh, George, it's Barb Lahey.
Listen, I, um, I am sorry to bother you,
but it's Jim. I think he's lost it.
- Oh, hi, Barb. Yeah, I know about Ricky.
Yeah, well, someone had to kill him, Barb.
Terry,
that is fucking awesome news, buddy. Thank you so much.
Look, I'll send some weed to the library, okay?
Talk to Phil. Thanks, buddy. Talk to you later.
Corey and Trevor are on the way, they'll to start harvesting
right away. Just talked to fucking Terry?
He's got a deal set up with a courier company.
We can express-ship the whole shipment right to Moncton
with courier thing, guaranteed by 12 o'clock tomorrow.
If we can pull this off, we'll have enough money
- to buy the trailer park. - How are we gonna get the weed
- to the courier company? - We're gonna go borrow a truck,
fill it full of weed, they're gonna take care of the rest.
The only problem is it takes 30 fucking points.
- What?! - There you mo-fuckers are.
Know what I'm saying? What's this shit on the radio
- about the cops found your weed? - No shit.
- Don't say you got no mo-fucking weed?!
- The show is in two motherfucking days, man,
and my shit's on the line. I need some motherfucking weed.
- Will you chill the fuck out? Listen, we got one field left.
- Everything's going to be cool. - Lots of weed.
I got a whole field of fucking weed. I got more weed
than you or anybody can have. There's lots of fucking weed.
Landscaping company over here,
if anybody's wondering what all the weed talk is.
- Ricky, what the fuck happened to your head?
- Fucking Lahey blew me up. What happened to your head?
Why you wearing a wig, J-Roc? That's fucked.
- Man, I ain't J-Roc. That mo-fucker's in jail, yo.
- This ain't J-Roc. J-Roc's in jail 'till the album drops.
That's right, T.
- Boys, let's go harvest. We got until sunrise
before the cops start searching again. Let's go.
See you guys in Moncton.
Terry said it should be open. The keys should be in it.
- Throw me your donair, Ricky. - Don't eat any of it, Bubbles.
Here, take my handgun.
Go boys, move!
It's come down to this, boys.
We're gonna be rich or we're going the fuck back to jail.
- Julian, what the fuck are you talking about?
We're not going to jail.
- Ricky. Corey and Trevor. Think about it.
Those guys are responsible for all that dope, man.
I dunno.
- It's gonna be fine. I know they're stupid as fuck,
but they're getting a lot smartable and they can do this.
- One, cut down the weed. Two, bundle in neat piles
and put in bags. Man, that's easy.
Three, keep in radio contact and don't fuck nothing up.
- Oh, we fucked up. Damn, dude, Sarah.
We didn't do the dishes or clean the litter. We're fucked.
- She's gonna freak. - Don't worry about it.
I needed a break anyway. We'll go home, take care of that,
come back here and finish this up. It'll be 20 minutes.
- They'll never know we were gone. - Nice.
- Turn off the fucking lights, Bubbles.
- Oh, yeah, Ricky, that's no problem.
Here, I'll just switch those off
and manoeuvre this gigantic truck down a little narrow road
in the pitch black.
- Here, try Corey and Trevor again.
Ricky, put that out.
- Papa Bear to Dick and Weed. Where in the fuck are you guys?
We're almost to the den. [coughing]
- For fuck's sakes. - They must be still harvesting.
Hope they're almost fucking done.
Holy fuck, boys.
What?! What?
- I'm fucking baked, but I think I just saw Lahey in a dress
in the fucking woods. It looked just like him.
- I swear to fuck. - Ricky, give me the joint.
- Idiot. - Thank you, thank you.
Ricky, you got the whole fucking cab here hot-boxed.
I can't see jack shit. [crashing]
Oh, fuck!
- Fuck! - Omigod!
- Was that a fucking moose? - Omigod, boys. I don't know,
but whatever it was, it flipped over about three fucking times.
- What if it was a Samsquanch? - Bubbles, turn on the lights.
- Oh, fuck! - Hello?
Are there any survivors?
- Thank God you're here, dudes. What's up?
- Why in the fuck aren't you guys harvesting the dope?
- You better be fucking done. - Well, we just started.
- Yeah, we forgot to do some shit for Sarah,
but we're coming right back as soon as we're done.
- How fucked in the head are you guys?
I left you a simple little list. The sun's probably gonna be up
in three fucking hours, you morons!
- Ricky, can you get us out of here, please?
- The car's on fire. It could blow. We gotta get them out.
- Bubbles, it's gonna burn itself out. It's no big deal.
- Trevor, stop complaining. Stop being so fucking selfish.
Let's go, smokes. You're fucking lucky.
Well, I want to thank you two,
because we are now officially fucked.
- Ricky, we're not fucked yet. We just need to find
some people to help us harvest. Come on, boys, we can do this.
- Oh, yeah, Julian, it shouldn't be too hard,
out in the middle of fucking nowhere here.
Find a whole bunch of people to help us, that's easy enough.
- Dude, the car is on fire! - Corey, it's not that bad.
All right? Stop complaining, get down there
and cover your faces. I know what we're going to do here.
The two of you, shut the fuck up.
- We're sorry, Ricky. - Put your head down.
[screaming]
Shut the fuck up.
I can't believe how fucking stupid you two are.
Okay, boys, sit tight.
- We have to leave you here. - We gotta get a chain.
- All right, boys, here comes our miracle. Stay cool.
- Stop the fucking bus! Open the door! Open the fucking door!
Okay, everybody, we're not here to hurt anyone.
We just need your help for a little while.
- We just need one hour of your time to help us
harvest some plants. Anybody that helps
can carry as many plants away with them as they want.
Then you can go back to whatever the fuck it is you do.
- Holy fuck! Do you have any idea who in the fuck this is?
- I know who they are. They're fucking harvesters.
Let's go! Drive. Everybody up!
- I still see a lot of weed here, people,
we gotta pick up the pace.
[singing]
Can everybody please shut up?
♪ It's a working man I am ♪
- There's too much fucking weed, Julian.
♪ And I been down underground ♪
- We're never gonna finish this. ♪ And I swear ♪
♪ If I ever see the sun ♪
- It's fucking Corey and Trevor's fault.
Well, harvesting's a nightmare. We got 4,200 plants
and that's a lot of work. You gotta pick the plants,
take the leaves off, dry them,
get them ready for sale. It's a lot of work.
- This is serious shit. This is weed.
- Ricky! You're forcing Rita MacNeil and her band
to harvest dope at gunpoint.
You could be a little bit fucking nicer, you know.
- They could be a little bit faster.
- Stop being such a dick. - I'm sorry.
Here's a nice one here, dear.
- Thanks. I'm sorry for yelling at you guys,
but we've gotta get this stuff out of here.
I've only got an hour, is the big problem here.
I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just stretched out.
- I fucking hate harvesting. I like planting the things
and watering them, and looking after them,
talking to them. I don't like fucking harvesting.
- You like smoking them, though. - Oh, I like smoking them.
Julian, we gotta get Corey and Trevor out of that wreck too.
- Ah, shit! We don't have time, Bubbles.
- We can't leave them out here in the middle of nowhere!
- All right, all right. Let's start packing this stuff up.
Okay, easy, Bubs.
- Well, it's working, boys. We're following them.
- Don't try to make any sudden stops, boys.
- I can't believe how fucking stupid those guys are.
Let's just park in the middle of the road with no lights on.
- Ricky, you told them not to have their lights on.
It's not totally their fault. I couldn't see a thing either.
- I know that, but it was their fucking fault.
All right, buddy, here comes the pavement.
Home trees, boys. Whoo!
- All right, it should be smooth sailing now.
It's a lot fucking easier going.
Can you see how it's got more power now, on the pavement?
I can't believe we did it.
Boys?
I don't want to cause unnecessary alarm,
but I think we might have a little situation here.
- Let's just... - What are you doing?
- What is it, Bubs? - Chain broke.
What in the fuck?!
Turn around and go get them.
- Oh, fuck! Are you kidding me? - We have to.
- Holy fuck, those guys fuck up a lot.
- So you think it's possible this pile of burning cars
has nothing to do with us?
- Boys, I got no brakes! - Gear down, Bubbles! Gear down!
- [crashing] - Fuck!
- Fuck, boys, what are we going to do?
- You better not be working the streets again, Randy.
- Where's Jim? - I don't know.
I don't give a fuck. I'm just trying to work here,
make some extra money to feed myself.
Take me to jail, George, I don't care.
Or if you got 10 bucks... [bottle breaking]
Boys, we're fucked!
The cops are going to be here.
What are we going to do?
- Dudes, thanks for coming back. Can you get us out now?
- I cannot believe you idiots fucked up again.
Now shut the fuck up. We're taking care of it.
- Ricky, we're gonna have to get another courier down here now.
- Julian, how are we gonna get another courier here?
- Here. Call this number, ask for Terry,
- tell him where we are. - Terry, yeah.
I don't trust Terry and I don't trust DVD.
I'm going to Moncton with the dope. Fuck it.
- I'll go with you, Ricky. - Neither one of you guys
are going with the dope. It's too risky.
- It's too much money and too much dope. Think about it.
Someone has to go to Moncton with the dope.
- I'm pinned. I'm pinned. - Push, dickweed!
- You push! - Ow!
- Omigod, thank you. - Oh, thank you so much!
- Shut up. The two of you guys, shut the fuck up.
- I gotta get all of these packages to Moncton.
One of your drivers was drunk, had an accident, took off.
I don't know where the fuck he's at.
- You got any tape? - Uh, masking tape, clear tape,
- packing tape, opaque tape? - Go get some fucking tape!
Go get some fucking tape, there, Fuck-Ex! Come on,
this is weed on the ground here.
- Boys, I'm glad you're out. - Ah, thanks, dude.
- Ow! - Hey, what are you doing?
- Corey and Trevor, get the fuck up here. Sorry about this boys,
but you gotta go to Moncton with the dope. Just a couple of hours.
DVD's going to be there waiting for you. Hook up with him.
Do what he says and transport what he tells you to transport.
Cops catch you, we don't know you. It's only fair, boys.
- This is the biggest mission we've ever asked you to do.
- Can you do it? - Yo, we got this.
- Can we at least get our chips out of the car?
- Well, where are they? - They're in the car.
Here they are.
- Here, boys, give them-- - I need those, boys, I'm sorry.
- I'm fucking starving. - Oh, come on, dude.
[glass breaking]
What in the fuck?!
Fuck off, Lahey, I don't got time for this shit.
Julian, get my fucking gun. It's in the truck.
- Ricky, no guns. Jim, Jim, Jim, no guns. Look, see?
No guns. Everything's cool, buddy.
[sirens] [gunshot]
- Jim, what the fuck are you doing?
Put the gun away before someone gets hurt.
- Oh, someone is gonna get hurt, Julian.
- You've completely lost your mind, haven't you, Lahey?
- Oh, have I lost my mind, Ricky?
Or is this the way the world ends?
[screaming]
Are you fucking nuts?!
- Dispatch, this is East 85. Jim Lahey's lost his goddamned mind.
I need backup, I need ERT. King and Portland, now.
- You have about one minute left to live, boy.
- Is that right? What's this all about, Lahey?
Fine, you're the fucking Trailer Park Supervisor.
Is that all you want me to say?
Jim Lahey is the Trailer Park Supervisor, not me.
He's the best fucking supervisor in the world.
Do a great job, Jim. Yippee-yeah.
[police]: Put down the guns.
Check this out.
- Jesus Christ! - Come on, Jim, it's George.
- Put the guns down. - Ricky,
it's time to say goodbye.
I'm about to extinguish your little shit-flame forever.
You got time for one last word, boy?
- Knock-knock. - Who's there, Ricky?
- A drunk Trailer Park Supervisor
with fucking guns and dynamite,
drunk, with a fucking dress on,
who's going fucking back to jail for a long fucking time.
- I'm Nancy Regan at downtown Dartmouth,
where an armed standoff has just begun.
A middle-aged, intoxicated man wearing a dress
and strapped with dynamite has taken another man -
younger, intoxicated, also possibly on drugs - hostage.
- Have you seen this shit? You see what's going on here?
You've got the SWAT team here, fucking cops everywhere.
You're on the fucking news, live here. You happy about that?
- Can we have a moment? - No, you can't.
I'm about to get fucking shot. Fuck off.
I hope you're happy with yourself, 'cause you fucked up!
- You fucked up big-time. - Oh, yeah, Rick?
- Yeah. - How's this for big-time?
- [screaming] - How do you like that, Ricky?
- That's what I'm talking about. That's a big-time fuck-up.
You're going to jail for this.
- I might shoot you, and then I might shoot myself.
I'll tell you what. You guess, Ricky.
You guess who I'm going to shoot first.
- Will it be you, Rick? - No.
- Or will it be me? - Yeah.
- You? - No.
- Me? - Yeah.
- Ricky? - Shoot yourself! Not me!
- I got two loaded guns pointed straight at you.
- Yeah, and I'm not too fucking happy about that.
- I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job,
but you need Randy here immediately.
- He might be our only hope. - Jen, get Randy.
I saw him working the streets earlier at King Donair.
If he's not there, try the McDonald's parking lot.
- Will somebody please shoot this fucking guy?
- Someone give me a minute. - Somebody give me a smoke,
if I got one minute left to live. You got any smokes?
I know you got some on you. Give me a fucking smoke.
You don't need a smoke, Ricky.
Say a little prayer, boy.
- Let me roll a joint, something, please.
- I'm prepared to die if it will make Sunnyvale
a better place to live.
I don't want to hurt anybody except Ricky.
So everybody just go home and let me do what I have to do.
- Jim, put down your weapons. Don't make us shoot you.
You're just drunk. You just need to sober up.
You'll see how crazy all this is.
- George, why don't you put down the fucking bullhorn.
We're ten feet away, for fuck's sakes.
- Jim, you used to be an officer, for Christ's sake.
George, I only had two drinks.
And like you said, I used to be an officer, George.
Used to be.
Ricky,
I'm either gonna kill you
and spend the rest of my life in jail,
or I'm gonna kill us both, Rick.
You got a smoke, man?
You don't even know what the fuck is going on here, do you?
Lahey, please give me a cigarette before you shoot me.
Please.
You're the reason, Rick.
You're the fucking reason.
George, Dean has a shot.
- Last chance, Jim! Put down your weapons
or we'll have to make our move!
- George, there's dope in those boxes.
George,
you are the dumbest cop on the force.
The dumbest.
Take the shot.
- [gunshot] - Ah, fuck! Ah, fuck!
I'm fucking shot again! You idiots!
[police]: Sorry about that. That was an accident.
We were trying to knock the gun out of Jim's hand
- and we fucked up. - George!
You get this guys out of here.
- You happy now? I'm fucking shot!
- You're the reason, Ricky, that I never made any difference.
[Ricky]: Oh, Jesus Christ...
[Randy]: Mr. Lahey!
You made a difference to me, Mr. Lahey.
You got me off the streets once
and then I became an Assistant Trailer Park Supervisor.
Please, Mr. Lahey, get me off the streets again.
Randy, I'm sorry, boy.
[Ricky]: I need a fucking doctor over here!
- I gotta do what I gotta do. - Plead insanity
and you'll be back in the park in six weeks with me.
Please, Mr. Lahey.
- You're the only one that ever made any sense, Randy.
Let's go home, Mr. Lahey.
[Ricky]: I want everyone to fucking know
if there's any court bullshit over this, you guys shot me!
I didn't do a fucking thing! I'll sue every one of you!
You guys getting this?! Every bit of it?!
Names, let's go! Names! Who shot me?! Did you fucking shoot me?!
Why are you guys pointing your guns at me, still?
Cops pointing guns at me, Shooting me for no reason!
- Hi, there. Ricky, we probably should, you know...
deal with some stuff here. Give the microphone
back to the lady and let's get the fuck out of here.
Well, I guess we're done here.
- So who was driving the truck, boys?
Better not have been you, Julian!
Drinking and driving, you know that.
- George, it was actually me that was driving. Here, look,
I got my rig license right there.
- Bubbles, this has got to be the worst fake license
I've seen in my life. It's illegal, too. Here, Karen.
- Ah, fuck! Watch the leg. - I am.
- What's this, Richard? - 15 one-gram joints,
which I can now legally carry. So go fuck yourself.
You know what, George? The way I see it,
you guys got nothing. Not a fucking thing.
If you try to prosecute this,
you're gonna look like a fucking idiot.
You know who's going to jail, George? You guys are. Not me.
I'm not going to fucking jail, you are.
- Apparently they got this stupid rule
that 'cause I'm on probation, I can't carry any dope on me,
which is bullshit. Anyway, I don't care.
Now I'm here and hanging out with the boys. Terry's here
and Phil and... You know, it's gonna be a good time.
The food's been good so far. There's lots of dope
going around now, 'cause you can't smoke,
so there's more dope and that's pretty cool.
- Jail's not nearly as bad as I thought.
I mean, I get drunk in here with the boys all the time,
there's good dope in here, good books, satellite TV.
They gave me a new suit to wear
that's kind of like a spaceman suit.
- The bad part is I talked to Barb and she dumped me
'cause I'm in jail, which, you know, I don't understand.
Like if chicks could just come to jail and see what it's like,
they'd realize it's no big deal at all. It's a good time.
But, no, they gotta freak out.
"Oh, you're in jail, I gotta dump you."
- So I just can't believe everything went so smooth
with Corey and Trevor. I mean, we tracked the waybill number
and everything went off perfectly. I mean...
we're getting out of here and we're buying the park.
- Car, paid for, cash. Trailer, paid for cash.
For years, Ricky and Julian have been fucking with us, man.
They're always hard on Trevor. So you know what?
It feels damn good. We jacked their money.
And now I have no time or candy for them bitches, man,
- 'cause they played themselves. - Those guys wanted to buy
the trailer park? Well, fuck them.
We bought the trailer park. Now we're players and we're cool.
I'm really proud of Mr. Lahey.
He hasn't mentioned Ricky once.
That's a huge sign of improvement.
It's so strange without Mr. Lahey in the trailer park.
But he's not going to be here long.
He's going to get out soon. Right, Mr. Lahey?
- The judge even granted me permission
to look after one of my kitties: Vince the Pinse.
He was born with no bones in his foot, here,
and he's got these floppy little fingers,
so he can't look after himself.
Actually, he can look after himself just fine,
I just tricked the judge,
'cause I wanted the little mo-fucker in here with me.
Ha. What are you saying? [purring]
What are you saying?