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A struggling high school student with problems discovers that his family has an unusual pedigree when he finds himself turning into a werewolf.
Coach Finstock: There are three rules that I live by: never get less than twelve hours sleep; never play cards with a guy who has the same first name as a city; and never get involved with a woman with a tattoo of a dagger on her body. Now you stick to that, and everything else is cream cheese.
Coach Finstock: Look Scotty, I know what you're going through. Couple years back, a kid came to me much the same way you're coming to me now, saying the same thing that you're saying. He wanted to drop off the team. His mother was a widow, all crippled up. She was scrubbing floors. She had this pin in her hip. So he wanted to drop basketball and get a job. Now these were poor people, these were hungry people with real problems. Understand what I'm saying? Scott Howard: What happened to the kid? Coach Finstock: I don't know. He quit. He was a third stringer, I didn't need him.
Scott Howard: Hi. I'd like a keg of beer please? Old man clerk: [looking at a newspaper] You don't say. Scott Howard: Yeah. How much is that? Old man clerk: You little bastards just don't give up, do you? Listen, no I.D. no goddamn beer. Can't you get that through your thick skull? Scott Howard: [his eyes turn red and his voice changes] Give me, a keg, of beer. [the clerk steps back in fear and go gets a keg, then Scott turns back to normal holding a thing of licorice] Scott Howard: And these.
Coach Finstock: What is it, gambling? Drugs? You know I'd really like to help you but I'm kind of tapped out this month. The IRS is coming down on me like it's some personal vendetta against Bobby Finstock.
Stiles: Never say die.
Scott Howard: Listen, Stiles. Do you know anything about a rash that's going around? Stiles: Why, you looking to catch something? Scott Howard: No, I'm serious. Stiles: No... but I heard Mr. Murphy, you know, the shop teacher? Scott Howard: Yeah? Stiles: Got his dick caught in a vacuum cleaner.
Harold Howard: I was hoping it would pass you by. Scott Howard: Well, Dad it didn't pass me by. It landed on my face.
Harold Howard: I want you to leave my son alone. He's a good kid... he's just having a tough time right now. Okay?
Scott Howard: Give me a keg of beer... and these.
Pamela Wells: [to Scott] What do you think about to get worked up?
Dragons Basketball Coach: You want to forfeit the game? Coach Finstock: Yeah, what's wrong with that? Dragons Basketball Coach: No. Coach Finstock: No? Dragons Basketball Coach: My players have league scoring records at stake. It wouldn't be fair to them. Coach Finstock: I just thought figured you quit now, you can beat the 5 o'clock traffic. Dragons Basketball Coach: There's a lot to learn from losing. Coach Finstock: Alright, we'll play, if it's that big a deal to you.
Kirk Lolley: How am I going to put this to you? Uh... look at it this way. No wolf, mmm, no wolf, ahh, no part. What do you think?
Scott Howard: Styles, I got something to tell you. It's kind of hard, but... Stiles: Look, are you gonna tell me you're a fag because if you're gonna tell me you're a fag, I don't think I can handle it. Scott Howard: I'm not a fag. I'm... a werewolf.
Vice Principal Thorne: It's not going too well is it? Coach Finstock: Well, Christ, Thorne, look at the sneakers those guys are wearing. If our guys had sneakers like that there's no telling what they could do.
Scott Howard: [admiring himself in the mirror] You are an animal! Woo!
Stiles: [during party games] OK, Chubby. What you've got to do is eat this entire bowl of jello. [Chubby makes a face as if to say "No problem"] Rhonda: What do I have to do? Stiles: Hold the jello! [he tips the bowl of jello down her top]
Coach Finstock: It doesn't matter how you play the game, it's whether you win or lose. And even that doesn't make all that much difference.
Scott Howard: [Scott is at the party and approaches Pam] [to Pam] Scott Howard: Are you looking for someone in particular? Pamela Wells: [to Scott, sarcastically] Not you! [walks off] Lisa 'Boof' Marconi: [to Scott drinking a beer] There you go! She said two words to you.
Harold Howard: [upon seeing each other as werewolves] An explanation is probably long overdue. Scott Howard: An explanation? Jesus Christ, dad! An explanation? Look at me! Look at you. Harold Howard: It's not as bad as it looks. Scott Howard: Wait a minute, wait a minute, dad. You mean you knew about this? You knew about this and you didn't tell me? Harold Howard: I was hoping I wouldn't have to. Sometimes it skips a generation. I was hoping it would pass you by. Scott Howard: Well, Dad it didn't pass me by. It landed on my face. What the hell am I gonna do? Harold Howard: [Scott slams his bedroom door behind him] Scott, we really need to talk about this. Scott Howard: Forget it, dad. I don't want to talk. Go away.
Vice Principal Thorne: Awful far from your side of the building aren't you, Howard? Scott Howard: No. I mean ye-yes, sir but the halls were wet. Vice Principal Thorne: Let me see your hands. Scott Howard: [nervously] Sir? Vice Principal Thorne: Let me see your hands. [Scott shows Thorne his hands, he sighs] Vice Principal Thorne: You wouldn't happen to have a marker on you, would you?
[Rehearsing for the school play] Scott Howard: Sergeant, burn the fields and when you're done with that, burn the house.
Stiles: Do the right thing. Scott Howard: That's all I wanna do, Stiles. That's all I wanna do.
Stiles: [his car is speeding by] Boof, how the hell are you? Scott Howard: Say no. Lisa 'Boof' Marconi: [to Stiles] No! Stiles: Great talking to you.
Harold Howard: Listen son. You're going to be able to do a lot of things the other guys aren't. Scott Howard: Oh yeah, like chase cars, and bite the mailman?
Vice Principal Thorne: You may think that you are special here... but let me remind you that I am still the vice principal. Scott Howard: [In full werewolf mode and wearing sunglasses] Hey, I'm no different than anyone else.
Scott Howard: I was with Stiles this afternoon. Harold Howard: I know. Scott Howard: You saw? Harold Howard: Yeah, I saw, unless that was another werewolf doing a handstand on top of Stiles' wolfmobile and making a fool of himself.
Scott Howard: These waves are mine.
Mick: Shoot it, Fatboy.
Mick: You don't scare me, freak. Underneath all that hair, you're still a dork, Scott. I've handled your kind before. Your mama used to steal chickens out of the backyard until I blew her head off with a shotgun. Right, Scott?