Quick cut. "Sykes!" That's Cameron. He drops his backpack on the hallway of the School Without Classes. Sideburns is standing in the center of the hallway in a spotlight, arms outstretched like Robert Downey Jr. in Natural Born Killers right before Mickey and Mallory shoot him. Cameron walks up to Sideburns for the big fronting. They pull out the Homicide camera. Cam puts his hands on his hips, flips his head-grease, clenches his jaw and moseys over to Sideburns. "Meghan said...that nothing happened between you two." Sideburns pouts, "After what we did. Now that kind of comes as an insult." I can't believe this isn't a dream sequence. The spotlight still shines on the two of them as silent zombie students mill around them. Cam takes action. The camera shoots the next line from six different angles like we're officially stuck in an Oliver Stone film. I keep looking around for Mallory, but she must be in Solitary. "Okay, you need to shut up and listen. For me, school is normally this peaceful situation, so when somebody jumps on my face, I gotta think there's a reason. A big reason. What's the reason, tough guy?" Sideburns looks down and says, "Okay. Little league. Bunch a years ago. All-star game. Me? I'm catching for North. You?" "I'm batting for South," Cameron interrupts. They are face-to-face as the Testosterone Guitar is picking up. The edits go back and forth. What? WHAT? This is all about a LITTLE LEAGUE GAME? Are they kidding? Cameron continues his memory. "I remember. I remember you being on my ass the entire game trying to break my concentration and lure me into a fight." "NO!" shouts Sideburns, who is taking this thing way too seriously. He reads his lines like Wesley explaining "To the Pain" to Humperdinck. We're talking full-on face twitches and sneers, fingers pointing all over the place as his sideburns get really outraged about the injustice. "There's a little more to it. Try this: You're on second. The next guy up gets a base hit. You decide to do the Charlie Hustle and come barreling home. And the only thing I can remember after that collision is laying there with a blown-out knee. Looking up at you. Taunting me. Dancing on home plate." Cameron asks what Sideburns wants him to do. Cam says he's sorry. But Sideburns isn't done. "That's all I think about. And it's too late for sorry. Because baseball was all I had. And you took that away from me." You were NINE! GET OVER IT! And it's only getting worse, people.
First the sensitive five-note Get Real jingle (in its extended dance remix version) starts to delicately wail on oboe. I know you don't believe me, but Sideburns stole a copy of Extra-Crappy Little-Boy Monologues VII: Bad Dads and Blown Knees and begins the following piece of drivel: "And because I live with a father..." Sideburns pauses here to taste the bitter fluid that has backed up his throat (or the vomit from having to say these lines, I'm not sure) "...who's no longer interested in a son who can't play anymore. He practically disowned me." You were nine. NINE! Even Cam can't keep a straight face as he says, "All this from just one little afternoon." "One little afternoon that you walked away from. This time you don't walk away." Cameron hears my pleas to shut him up and interrupts Sideburns to say, "Oh, my God you need to get over yourself! Are you even listening?" That might, MIGHT have saved the scene, but the writers ruin it by giving Cam the following lines: "It's not what happens to you, man, it's what you do about it." Sideburns gets all nose-to-nose and sneers up his lip so high that he looks like Templeton and hisses, "I am doing something about it." "You wanna get down with me?" Cameron doesn't say this any louder than he's said any of the past lines, but now all of a sudden the entire school stops to stare at the two boys in the spotlight that they've been listening to in obedient silence for the past five minutes. "Because I will get down with you anyway you want." You know, I'm all for homoerotica in teen dramas, but this just isn't sexy at all. The silent students have started milling around again. Cam puts his nose up to Sideburns's and says that Sideburns will have to leave Meghan out of this. "Oooh, sorry. Can't do that, dude. See, we're a thing now." "All right, fine," Cam's jaw clenches, "I'm left with no option. So let's get it on. ME. YOU. BLEACHERS. TOMORROW NIGHT." A group of silent students stands in a chorus line and watches. "And if I win? You and Meghan are history." Sideburns smiles and says, "All right. Fine by me. But won't that be strike three for you?" Apparently he has no real interest in Meghan and has only transferred to this school when he got the memo that Cameron was on his second strike. What the fuck ever. Man, I'm sorry, Wing. I know we're not supposed to curse too much in this things, but this piece of shit television show makes me want to fucking cuss. It's such crap. CRAP! THIS SHOW IS SO STUPID! STUPID! JESUS! WHY? WHY AM I IN THIS PRE-TEEN CRAP HELL? WHO TALKS LIKE THIS? WHO DRESSES LIKE THIS? WHO CHALLENGES PEOPLE TO A FIGHT AT THE BLEACHERS AT NIGHT OVER HIS SISTER'S VIRGINITY? WHO? At least Three O' Clock High had humor in it. At least My Bodyguard had Matt Dillon. This has nothing. NOTHING. The bleachers. Give me a break. Stupid. Dammit. Damn. Dammity-damn-damn-hell.