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: What is your name? Chuck Norstadt
: Chuck. Chuck Norstad. McLeod
: Well, Chuck Chuck Norstad.
: The problem is one of water. Chuck Norstadt
: Water? McLeod
: Water. Women have, on average, about 5% more of it than do men, making them subject to different forces of gravity. Oh don't take my word for it, you can look it up in Newton. It's there. Chuck Norstadt
: Couldn't they be drained?
] Chuck Norstadt
: I'm serious! McLeod
: Well, I believe they're waiting for us to drink more fluids.
: The freak's a teacher? Come on! Chuck Norstadt
: I think he is actually. Meg
: Well what does he teach? Chuck Norstadt
: He makes me dig holes.
: Think Norstad, reason. Have I ever abused you? Did I ever lay a hand on you of anything but friendship on you? Could I? Could you imagine me ever doing so? And what about the past? Chuck Norstadt
: Just tell me you didn't do it, I'll believe you. McLeod
: No, no sir! I didn't spend all summer so you could cheat on this question.
[first line, voiceover
] Chuck Norstadt
: It was a good dream, my best one. Everything was perfect. My mother was proud of her son's wings. My half-sister, Meg, lost her braces. My other half-sister, Gloria, had realized my intellectual superiority and was quietly respectful to me. My stepfathers were slaves, captured in battle. And there was a WAC by my side, not too bright, not too loud, hugely attractive. It's a good dream: a "John Wayne meets Hugh Hefner" philosophy of life... if you consider Hef a philosopher... or John Wayne. But whatever the dream, there's always a face that I can't see, that I keep missing, out there beyond the edge of the crowd.
: Now, I'd like you to write an essay. Any topic you'd like. Chuck Norstadt
: Why? It's not on the exam. Justin McLeod
: Why did you come here? Quickly, don't think, just answer. Why? Chuck Norstadt
: For s-some help, you know. Justin McLeod
: No, I don't know. Do you want help or not? Chuck Norstadt
: Yeah, I guess so, if you're really a teacher. Justin McLeod
: "Yeah, I guess so", SIR. Chuck Norstadt
: Yes, I guess so, sir. Justin McLeod
: Good. This is the way it works. Aut disce aut discede - learn or leave. Because it's of no consequence to me, one way or the other. Understood?
[Going over Chuck's essay
] Justin McLeod
: What would you change about the government? Chuck Norstadt
: Me? Um, lots of things. Justin McLeod
: Such as? Chuck Norstadt
: Su-such as... Justin McLeod
: Such as how the word is spelled, for example. Chuck Norstadt
: What? Justin McLeod
: Judging by your essay, looks as if you hope to change the spelling of the word "government," "democracy," and, uh, "Richard Miltown Nixon." Chuck Norstadt
: So I'm not too good at spelling.
: If you're going to plagiarize, you could at least show the courtesy of copying... Chuck Norstadt
: What are you talking about? Justin McLeod
: Don't! Who wrote this? Who? Chuck Norstadt
: Bill Garfield. Justin McLeod
: Never heard of him. Chuck Norstadt
: He's at Columbia. Justin McLeod
: Ah! I see you're a high-class cheat. Chuck Norstadt
: I'm not a cheat, listen... Justin McLeod
: Yes you are. Chuck Norstadt
: I hate writing. Justin McLeod
: Aut disce aut discede!
: I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I betrayed you. I stabbed you in the back, and I don't even know why. Justin McLeod
: Oh, come on, we're not doing Julius Caesar now. Chuck Norstadt
: What? Justin McLeod
: "Et tu, Chuckus"? It's all right, I'll live with it. Chuck Norstadt
: You mean, you don't hate my guts? Justin McLeod
: No, I don't hate your guts.
: I like privacy. Chuck Norstadt
: Yeah, well, um, what about living alone? Do you like that? Justin McLeod
: It likes me. Chuck Norstadt
: What do you mean? Justin McLeod
: I've become a proper fairy-tale troll here, Norstadt. Tourist board ought to pay me.
: Hey Mickey, you crazy son of a bitch, if I had a dog like you I'd put a bag over it's head, yes I would, yes I would.
: Is it true that you write pornography?
[McLeod seems a little shocked, then embarassed, holding his head in both hands. Chuck feels bad, thinking he angered McLeod
: [starts laughing hysterically
] Is that the latest rumour?
: Actually, I can't think of anything I'd like to do more, than drop napalm for a living.
: You know, I can't see your scars anymore. I can hardly even tell they're there.