Terence Fletcher:
You are upset.
[Andrew nods yes]
Terence Fletcher:
Say it.
Andrew:
I'm upset.
Terence Fletcher:
Say it so the whole band can hear you.
Andrew:
[a little louder]
I'm upset!
Terence Fletcher:
Louder!
Andrew:
[loud]
I'm upset!
Terence Fletcher:
LOUDER!
Andrew:
[louder]
I'M UPSET!
Terence Fletcher:
You are a worthless, friendless, faggot-lipped little piece of shit whose mommy left daddy when she figured out he wasn't Eugene O'Neill, and who is now weeping and slobbering all over my drum set like a fucking nine-year old girl! So for the final, FATHER-FUCKING time, SAY IT LOUDER!
Andrew:
[at the top of his lungs]
I'M UPSET!
Terence Fletcher:
[going back to compose the band]
Start practicing harder, Nieman.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:18
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