Terence Fletcher
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And here comes mister gay pride of the Upper West Side himself. Unfortunately, this is not a Bette Midler concert, we will not be serving Cosmopolitans and Baked Alaska, so just play faster than you give fucking hand jobs, will you please?
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Were you rushing or were you dragging? If you deliberately sabotage
my band, I will fuck you like a pig. Oh my dear God - are you one of those single tear people? You are a worthless pansy-ass who is now weeping and slobbering all over my drumset like a nine year old girl!
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Either you're deliberately out of tune and sabotaging my band, or you don't know you're out of tune, which, I'm afraid, is even worse.
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The folder is your fucking responsibility, Tanner. Why would you give it to Neiman? Right? You give a calculator to a fucking retard he's gonna try to turn on a TV with it. Now get your sticks and get your ass on stage.
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Everybody remember, Lincoln Center and its ilk use these competitions to decide who they are interested in and who they are not. And I am not gonna have my reputation in that department tarnished by a bunch of fucking limp-dick, sour-note, flatter-than-their-girlfriends, flexible-tempo dipshits. Got it? And if I EVER see another one of these lying around, I swear to fucking God, I will stop being so polite.
Dialogue
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Fletcher: Tell me it's not you, Elmer Fudd.
[walks over to Metz] It's okay. Play.
[Metz plays a couple of notes; Fletcher stops him]
Fletcher: Do you think you're out of tune?
[Metz only stares at the floor]
Fletcher: What are you ... there's no fucking Mars bar down there. What are you looking at? Look up here, look at me. Do you think you're out of tune?
Metz:
[after a long, hesitant pause] Yes.
Fletcher:
[yelling] THEN WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU SAY SO?! [calmer tone] I've carried your fat ass for too long, Metz. I'm not gonna have you cost us a competition because your mind's on a fucking Happy Meal instead of on pitch. Jackson, congratulations. You're fourth chair. Metz, why are you still sitting there?
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Fletcher: Nieman, you lost the fucking part.
Andrew: No, I didn't! You can't fucking do this to me!
Fletcher: CAN'T?
Andrew: Yeah!
Fletcher: When did you become a fucking expert on what I can or cannot do, you fucking weepy willow shitsack?
Andrew: I earned that part.
Fletcher: You never earned anything. God, you are a self-righteous prick. The only reason you are a core is because you misplaced a folder. The only reason you're in studio band to begin with is because I told you EXACTLY what I'd be asking for in Nassau! Am I wrong?
Andrew: Yeah, yeah. I'm in studio band because I'm the best player...
Ryan:
[interrupts] Hey, why don't you just back off, bro?
Andrew: Hey, you know, fuck off, Johnny Utah! Turn my pages, bitch!
Fletcher: Hey, I can cut you any fucking time I want.
Andrew: You would've cut me by now.
Fletcher: Try me, you fucking weasel. At 5:30, that's in exactly 11 minutes, my band is on stage. If your ass is not on that stool with your own fucking sticks in hand or you make ONE FUCKING MISTAKE, ONE! I will drum your ass back to Nassau where you can turn pages until you graduate or fucking drop out! By the time you're done at Shaffer, you're gonna make Daddy look like a fucking success story. Got it? Or, we can let Johnny Utah play the part. You choose.
Andrew: It's my part, I'll be on your stage.
[to Connelly] Fuck you.
[Runs to get his sticks]
Fletcher: You got 10 minutes fucking pathetic pansy ass fruitfuck!
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Andrew: I'm just gonna lay it out there. This is why I don't think we should be together. And I've thought about it a lot and this is what's gonna happen. I'm gonna keep pursuing what I'm pursuing. And because I'm doing that, it's gonna take up more and more of my time. And I'm not gonna be able to spend as much time with you. And when I do spend time with you, I'm gonna be thinking about drumming. And I'm gonna be thinking about jazz music, my charts, all that. And because of that, you're gonna start to resent me. And you're gonna tell me to ease up on the drumming, spend more time with you because you're not feeling important. And I'm not gonna be able to do that. And really, I'm gonna start to resent you for even asking me to stop drumming. And we're just gonna start to hate each other. And it's gonna get very... It's gonna be ugly. And so for those reasons, I'd rather just, you know, break it off clean... because I wanna be great.
Nicole: And you're not?
Andrew: I wanna be one of the greats.
Nicole: And I would stop you from doing that?
Andrew: Yeah.
Nicole: You know I would stop you from doing that. You know, for a fact?
Andrew: Yes.
Nicole: And I'd barely see you anyway?
Andrew: Yeah.
Nicole: And when I do see you, you'd treat me like shit because I'm just some girl who doesn't know what she wants. And you have a path, and you're gonna be great, and I'm going to be forgotten, and therefore you won't be able to give me the time of day because you have bigger things to pursue?
Andrew: That's exactly my point.
Nicole: What the fuck is wrong with you? You're right, we should not be dating.