It’s a snowy night, it’s a silent night, but that silence is about to get deafning loud as Superbad and the BMF make their way into town. The Ferrari engine purring like a cat with a bowl of milk next to a warm fire.

“Son of a bitch, Bad mutha how much gas did you put in at the last stop?”

“I must have put in whatever you had in your front pocket, 87 cents I believe it was. That should get us to Memphis, right?”

“You drunk fuck, we are in Arizona, how do you think 87 cents is going to get us to Memphis? Don’t answer, I am too hungry to put up with your bullshit. Maybe we should pull into to that McDonalds, What cha think, you hungry?”

“Hell Yeah, I haven’t had food in days, Damn this Jack is good shit though”

BMF cracks open a new bottle of Single Barrel Jack that he purchased back at the liquer/gas store instead of the gas he was asked to. Just as he finishes the last of it in one huge swig, Superbad swings the bad ass mobile hard right, gases it and then rips the wheel full left and skids gracefully into a spot just big enough for the Bad Ass Mobile and nothing more. It’s quite the display of driving and even more impressive how he makes his way out with no room to maneuver, but we are not here to tell that story.

They make their way into the crowded McDonalds when Superbad recognizes that most of the patrons are cops.

“Jesus BMF, I guess we won’t be getting any beef for dinner, it seems they only serve PIG!”

Superbad seems pleased as the officers pause mid bite and survey the scene to determine if the remark was hostile enough to take action. Superbad’s laughing and BMF’s glazed over look show no sign of a threat and the officers go back to what will be for most of them their last supper.

“Bad Mutha, you paying? You know I gots no cash.”

BMF pulls a wad of hundreds out of his neatly pressed Italian Silk suit and hands over a couple. Superbad rips them from BMF’s hand in disgust.

“I’ll take 2 chicken sandwiches some fries and a large orange drink, what about you Bad Mutha?’

“I want 2 Big macs and a large Fry, already got my drink”

BMF flashes a silver flask full of Gentleman Jack Daniels. As Superbad and the cashier bicker about whether the restaurant can accept the hundred dollar bill, BMF notices the fry clerk putting the fries in the same oil that the chicken Superbad just ordered came out of.

“Hey Fry Fag, what do you think you are doing frying my fries in with the same oil you used for the chicken? I am a fucking vegetarian, I ought to kill you as you stand.”

Both the cashier and Superbad pause in bewilderment at this outburst as BMF had clearly just ordered two Big Macs which would disgust any would be vegetarian.

“Bad Mutha, who the fuck you trying to kid with that vegetarian bullshit, you ain’t no vegetartian”

“Yeah, I am vegetarian, cause I hate chicken”

“Hating chicken does not make you a vegetarian”

“Yeah it does, cause I don’t eat chicken”

Superbad is now unsure of which way to take this conversation, one avenue would be to continue this retarded exchange in hopes that BMF will understand his blunder and face the truth or he could ignore it and continue arguing as to whether the restaurant will take the hundred. As he is weighing his decision a loud pop that could not be mistakened for anything other than a Desert Eagle 50mm rattles the windows. Super bad looks up to see the fry clerk slumping over and doing a pretty damn good impersonation of John F Kennedy in a convertible on November 22, 1963. The missing portion of his skull now sizzling in the fryer. The officers draw their weapons and take cover.

“Damnit BMF, why do you always have to fuck up dinner, Jesus, we never sit down, just the two of us and eat without someone dying”

Walkie Talkies crackle as officers radio for backup. Sirens can be heard in the distance and soon the building is awash in the Blue and Red flashing of the police cars outside. BMF has made his way over the counter and is working to drain and clear the fry basket so he can have fresh “vegetarian” style frys. Bullets blaze by as Superbad surveys the scene. He pulls two 45’s from his twin shoulder harnesses and start firing. BMFwhile waiting for the oil to drain turns around to see the firefight. He can’t believe his eyes as he sees Superbad do a perfect pirouette while deftly killing three officers with headshots. He then performs pliés (deep knee bends with your legs turned outward) and takes out another 5 officers. The other officers now start to panic as Superbad while doing some of the best ballet seen in modern times continues to wipe out the rest of the stunned officers. BMF takes another giant swig of JD and rubs his eyes to make sure he is not dreaming.

“Superbad, were you just doing ballet?”

“Nah, those are just some moves I picked up from Winsome Bitches school of Self Defense”

“Um, she doesn’t run a school of self defense, just Ballet.”

Superbad aims his 45’s directly at the now chuckling face of BMF.

“It’s a school of Self Defense, right?”

The distinctive clicking of the trigger just as it is about to be pulled back can be heard.

“Ok, yeah, school of Self Defense. Now help me drain this fryer so I can eat my vegetarian meal.”