| Time | Text |
|---|---|
|
Tristan's Firewood Plan
00:10:04
|
|
| Good shot there from Tate! | |
| A lot of people say girls love money and that's not entirely true. | |
| But I'm not. | |
| I'm not. | |
| Tristan. | |
| Tristan. What are you doing? | |
| I'm filling up the pool, so while I'm monitoring it, I need some light. | |
| There's light there. There's light all over. | |
| The electrical grid is about to be shut down. | |
| The lights are on! | |
| And when the electrical grid gets shut down, then what? | |
| Fire. Firewood. | |
| Prepared, as always. | |
| There's not even any wood. How long is this going to last? | |
| An hour? Long enough? | |
| There's a whole fucking field. We can get wood back here. | |
| It's dark. It is dark. | |
| Oh, yeah. That's cute. If only your brother hadn't bought the fucking world's most powerful fucking flashlights. | |
| How about this? I provide the flashlight. | |
| You provide the fucking wood. | |
| Go. Go. | |
| Get the fucking wood. Or, how about this? | |
| Why don't you give me a flashlight and I'll go get it? | |
| Ain't gone, do ya? | |
| We don't need a fire. You don't have shit. | |
| We don't need a fire. Go and get the wood. | |
| Why do we have a fire? We don't need a fire. | |
| Yeah, we absolutely do. | |
| You said you need the- Oh, and we didn't need cans either. | |
| You haven't been touching my fucking rations, have you? | |
| If I find- if I find your greasy fucking fingers on my fucking ration cans, you and your fucking cousins, dead meat. | |
| Done for. Hands off the rations. | |
| Why don't you dress so fly the virus fucking feeds you somehow? | |
| Whatever your fucking dumb shit doing. | |
| Get the fuck out of here! Fuck off! | |
| No wood! We are fucking scavengers. | |
| I think we found the most shit wood. | |
| I needed shit wood. | |
| How much wood should there be near my supercars? | |
| A lot. This is Romania. | |
| Look at this wood. I'm just out. | |
| It's true. All the lights are on. | |
| All the lights are on. | |
| All our neighbors lights are on. | |
| Nobody has a fire but us. | |
| Or wood. Why is there so much wood in fucking Romania? | |
| There's a car here I'll remind you again Are we about to run into a monster? | |
| This is where a monster would be. | |
| We fucking... We fucking... | |
| Corona monster. | |
| Someone left our car here. | |
| We have to admit, if Corona was anywhere, it'd be here. | |
| I think Corona would be here. | |
| Out of all the places. | |
| I wish I brought my weapons. | |
| Your hands are weapons. | |
| Haha! Wardrobe doors. | |
| That looks like wood. Someone's got a light over there. | |
| Yeah. Yeah. And they're walking. | |
| I do. The fuck are they? | |
| I don't know. It's not Andrew and Tristan. | |
| Or sorry, not Tristan. | |
| There's Tristan's light. Tristan's light's in there. | |
| Someone's walking over there through the woods with a flashlight. | |
| Yeah. And I don't have the Glock. | |
| So they've come too close. Get the fucking wardrobe and get out of here. | |
| Cool. I'm feeling these wardrobes are coming. | |
| Cut the wood? Tristan. | |
| Yeah? This is pizza. | |
| It's the end of the world. How the fuck do you get Domino's? | |
| It's the end of the world. I cooked it with the fucking ration cans! | |
| You did! What do you mean I didn't? | |
| Can you prove it? It's Domino's! | |
| I'm making the delivery drivers that's out there. | |
| What delivery driver? This is the most bullshit end of the world. | |
| They're frozen pizzas. They're not frozen. | |
| At least there's Domino's in India. | |
| I heat them up with a fire. Heat them up with a fire. | |
| There's a Domino's logo on it. Domino's doesn't have Domino's. | |
| Fuck off. If you... | |
| You know what? If you admit that I made this myself, you can have some. | |
| No, why not? You made it yourself. | |
| So, what's it made out? | |
| What are the ingredients? Cans from the rations. | |
| There you go. Luke, would you like some? | |
| Would you like some? Alright, it's made out of cans from the rations. | |
| It's made out of cans from the rations. Help yourself. | |
| You're welcome. | |
| Prepare for the end of the world, you piece of shit. | |
| Turn your fucking camera off. | |
| T, the lights are still on. | |
| End of the world. Turn off the fucking phone. | |
| The lights are on. I can charge it. | |
| Ah, fuck you. A few moments later. | |
| Shit, so looky- No, no, no, no, no. | |
| This is not scripted. | |
| The power is legitimately gone. | |
| Look at my neighbor's houses. | |
| I know. There's an emergency street lamp. | |
| Look at every house. Yeah, inside the houses. | |
| There is no power anywhere. | |
| So the power has actually gone on. | |
| The power has actually gone on. | |
| Which means one thing, doesn't it? | |
| So T's predicted the future again. | |
| It means one thing, doesn't it? | |
| What? You don't know shit! | |
| You don't know anything! Right. | |
| But you don't. What? | |
| I don't believe this. No, the power's gone out. | |
| I don't believe the power's gone out. | |
| Well, it has. The power's actually gone out? | |
| Yes. So your fire bullshit became true? | |
| Oh, bullshit, yeah? | |
| Yes. So I called the cans. | |
| I called the power. | |
| And suddenly... | |
| You also called dominoes. | |
| No, I did not call dominoes. | |
| The power's gone out. So the power's gone out. | |
| You know, anyone watching this at home, let me tell you, motherfucker, something. | |
| You think this is fake. | |
| You think we switched it off at our house. | |
| I'm telling you, the power has legitimately gone out. | |
| It's the end of the fucking world! | |
| I'm ready! And I got my baby hands cousins who can't hold the camera and it's all shaky. | |
| And I got my brother who's unprepared for the end of the universe. | |
| And I stand vindicated. | |
| With all my cans, my fire, my post-apocalyptic hoes, if you clucked them. | |
| Just as I said. | |
| He did bring post-apocalyptic hoes. | |
| Uh-huh. He did. | |
| And he got the post-apocalyptic booze. | |
| Now, what are you gonna eat? Got the wine? | |
| Got the hoes? Ahhhh! | |
| Shit! Look, it's only a matter of time. | |
| They start as temporary power cuts. | |
| It's only a matter of fucking time. | |
| You're on dim fucking ice, you toks. | |
| You're lucky this round. | |
| Post-apocalyptic hoes. | |
| I've got wine. Get all the hoes out to the apocalypse, bro. | |
| Apocalypse phones are real. | |
| There's phones everywhere. How can I repopulate the human species? | |
| So why is the neighbor asking Tristan for his powerful flashlight? | |
| I don't know. And how does he know that we have a powerful flashlight? | |
| Somehow everyone knows Tristan has the world's most powerful flashlights and how people want them. | |
| And Tristan feels super happy and excited and powerful and like, wow. | |
| Like he thinks he's important. | |
| He's not important. He bought an overpriced flashlight or a thousand dollars. | |
| He is about to bring him his flashlight. | |
| So the neighbor wants to borrow my flashlight. | |
| He obviously watches the YouTube. | |
| Oh. | |
| He watches my YouTube channel, bro. | |
| Yeah. | |
| The police is doing it. | |
| Police? Why? | |
| They stole the... | |
| the... | |
| electricity. | |
| Somebody stole the wires. | |
| Gypsies? | |
| That's super Romanian. | |
| Someone stole the electricity wire. | |
| The police are over there. Some gypsies are stealing electricity wires, apparently. | |
| It's the end of the world, bro. | |
| It's Mad Max. I haven't seen this shit ever. | |
| People in London are looting. | |
| Here, they're stealing electricity wires. | |
| It's the end of the universe. And I am prepared, unlike you and you. | |
| And as we sit around my fire, my fire of vindication, you two... | |
| I have a flashlight too. Let me tell you something. | |
| Fuck off. I bought this flashlight. | |
| It's perfectly usable. Baby flashlight, yeah? | |
| It's just not ridiculously big. | |
| Yeah, baby flashlight. That's cute. It's in my pocket and it's fine. | |
| That's real cute. It's not the size that matters, yeah? | |
| Is that what you tell your girlfriends? What the fuck are you doing? | |
| Rory. I was upstairs. | |
| What the fuck? I lost it and I thought, fuck it. | |
| What the fuck are you doing? | |
| What are you doing? You look like a fucking idiot. | |
| Having a haircut. That's not a haircut. | |
| What is it then? What the fuck have you done? | |
| You look retarded. | |
| Don't look good. You look like a special needs kid. | |
| Well. Give me the fucking razor. | |
| What do I do now? I... I'm going to bed. | |
| I'm going to bed. It's two o'clock in the afternoon. | |
| You can't go to bed. What else does a man do when he's lost his mind, Tristan? | |
|
Leaving Belarus
00:01:39
|
|
| There's no alcohol. I'm in isolation. | |
| I knew the quarantine was coming, but I didn't predict this fucking time to be here. | |
| They're losing their minds, bro. | |
| They're losing their minds. Only I am prepared for the quarantine. | |
| Mentally, he can't take it. | |
| I don't know how to handle this. | |
| What's not wrong with you? Fuck, I don't know. | |
| You look like a dickhead. | |
| I can't... It doesn't look good. | |
| It does look good. Bro, I think it looks good. | |
| Thanks, bro. The fuck is your problem? | |
| You as well? No one talked to me for the rest of the week. | |
| I'm not talking to any of you. I'm leaving the country, actually. | |
| I've decided to leave the country. | |
| Fuck you, bro. You can't leave. | |
| I'm leaving. I'm gonna find somewhere to go, and I'm fucking leaving. | |
| Tate, we're leaving. There's two countries over. | |
| I've confirmed clubs and bars are open in two places in Europe. | |
| Minsk, Belarus, Stockholm, Sweden. | |
| I say we go to Belarus. The only problem with Belarus is there's a 14-day self-quarantine. | |
| So we'll just go in, pretend we're in a self-quarantine, get booze, start drinking, go straight to the club. | |
| Same day. Uh-huh. | |
| If I got sent to jail in Sweden for violating some sort of curfew, that's fine. | |
| You, you, especially you, even me, none of us want to go to the Belarusian jail. | |
| And Belarus hate foreigners. | |
| They say, hey, let me see your passport. | |
| They will, they're itching to find some foreigner out with their fucking quarantine papers on them. | |
| They're itching for it. | |
| And don't even pretend that you're done. | |