Kick-Ass

Guardian of the universe.

Protecting us against the forces of evil.

The superpowers of this man...

He can catch a bullet,

halt a speeding train.

And leap tall buildings in a single bound.

- Up in the sky... Is it a bird?

A mailman by day...

City's guardian by night.

Defending the citizens of New York from the forces of evil.

The world has been protected by a group of extraordinary men and women

who have dedicated themselves to fighting crime.

Mysterious traveler from another dimension.

He has powers far beyond the capabilities of mere earthlings.

I always wondered why nobody did it before me.

I mean, all those comic books, movies, TV shows,

you'd think that one eccentric Ioner would have made himself a costume.

I mean, is everyday life really so exciting?

Are schools and offices so thrilling

that I'm the only one who ever fantasized about this?

Come on, be honest with yourself.

At some point in our lives, we all wanted to be a superhero.

That's not me, by the way.

That's some Armenian guy with a history of mental health problems.

Who am I? I'm Kick-Ass.

That's me, back before any of this crazy shit happened.

I guess I was the last person you'd expect to become a superhero.

I'm not saying there was anything wrong with me,

but there was nothing special, either.

Asshole. - I wasn't into sports.

I wasn't a mathlete or a hardcore gamer.

I didn't have a piercing or an eating disorder

or 3,000 friends on MySpace.

My only superpower was being invisible to girls.

And out of my friends, man, I wasn't even the funny one.

Like most people my age, I just existed.

Good morning, class.

Please open your books to Act 2, Scene 2.

Kick in my bedroom door, and you'd probably find me watching TV

or talking to my friend Todd on Skype...

- Are you watching Family Guy? - Nope.

Me, either. Check out nippleslip. Com. It's good.

Or jerking off, mostly to my English teacher.

Dave Lizewski.

Don't think I haven't noticed you looking at my tits, Dave.

I want your hands all over me, Dave.

Please.

Sure, a lot of what got me through the average school day

was making deposits in the whack-off warehouse for later.

Though to be honest,

it didn't take much to set me off.

I swear, when my hormones balance out,

shares in Kleenex are gonna take a dive, man.

Dave Lizewski, shouldn't you be looking at Hamlet right now?

Yes, Mrs. Zane.

I'm sorry.

But don't get me wrong. I like girls my own age, too.

Especially Katie Deauxma.

Hey, gorgeous.

Hey.

Oh, no.

You meant Erika. I know. I knew that.

I was just kidding.

Okay, cool.

Oh, my God.

Hey. Look, I'm Todd's mom.

That's funny. This is your dad.

No, that's still my mom, actually.

What the fuck!

I was just a regular guy.

No radioactive spiders, no refugee status from a doomed alien world.

You know what? Todd said they do still make Count Chocula.

They just don't sell it at the store anymore.

My mother was killed by an aneurism in the kitchen...

- Mom? ...as opposed to a gunman in the alley.

So if you were hoping for any,

"I will avenge you, Mother!"

You're out of luck.

In the 18 months since my mother died,

the only epiphany I had was realizing that life just goes on.

Did they change the bee's face?

No.

How come nobody's ever tried to be a superhero?

Boy, I don't know.

Probably 'cause it's fucking impossible, dipshit.

What, putting on a mask and helping people? How's that impossible?

That's not superhero, though. How is that super?

Super's like being stronger than everybody and flying and shit. That's just hero.

No, it's not even hero. It's just fucking psycho.

Mmm.

Hello? Bruce Wayne? He didn't have any powers.

Yes, but he had all the expensive shit that doesn't exist.

I thought you meant, like, "How come nobody does it in real life?"

Yeah, Todd, that's what I meant.

Dude, if anybody did it in real life, they'd get their ass kicked.

- They'd be dead in, like, a day. - A day.

Yeah, okay, I'm not saying they should do it.

I just can't figure out why nobody does.

Seriously, out of all the millions of people who love superheroes,

you'd think one would give it a try.

Jesus, guys, does it not bug you?

Why thousands of people wanna be Paris Hilton

and nobody wants to be Spider-Man?

Yeah, what's with that? She has, like, no tits at all.

Maybe it's the porn tape. He doesn't have a porn tape.

You guys never saw One Night in Spider-Man?

Guess who?

Is it me or do you kind of feel sorry for Chris D'Amico?

Yeah, it must be terrible to have a rich dad and everything you want.

I wish you wouldn't have said anything

- 'cause I feel like I'm gonna start crying. - Right.

The fact that he's always on his own?

We should, like, talk to him. See if he wants to hang out with us.

I didn't say we should talk to him. I just...

Think about it. Come on, it'd be awesome.

If he was our friend, no one would ever fuck with us again.

Well, go on then, Todd. You wanna...

- I can get up. - No, no...

- You wanna go talk to him? I can move. - Dave... Dave should go.

- Dave should go. - Why?

- Dave, you should totally go. - Go.

- You're a dick. - Don't be afraid, Dave.

You're a pussy.

Fuck off.

Did you spray anything over there?

Yeah, I think I might have just shat in my pants a little.

- See you later. - God, see you.

If that guy would have spoken to me like that, I would have kicked his ass.

Todd, when have you ever kicked anyone's ass?

Whatever, man. I would have just gone for his knees.

- You're not making sense. - What I'm saying is the centrifugal force

of Batman's batarang would undoubtedly penetrate the Joker's force field,

- leaving him totally vulnerable to the... - All right...

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

- Pussy patrol. - Fuck.

- Phones, money. - Dude, not again, come on.

- Phone. I don't have one.

- Someone else jacked it last week. - Pussy.

- Give me the bag. - It's just comics.

Yo, you want to get cut?

Look at this asshole just watching.

Come on, be honest with yourself.

Would you do anything differently?

We see someone in trouble and we wish we could help,

but we don't.

The world I lived in, heroes only existed in comic books.

And I guess that would have been okay if bad guys were make-believe, too.

But they're not.

Frankie, I'm telling you, man, I swear I'm not making this up.

This fucking guy comes out of nowhere, kicks our asses,

and steals all the coke.

This would be the guy that looks like Batman?

I didn't say he looked like Batman.

You did, Tre. You said the guy looked like Batman.

- He said like a mask and stuff. - And a cape.

- Yeah, like Batman. I didn't say "Like Batman."

I never said "Batman."

Okay.

Let me tell you the problem I got with that, Tre.

Our mole with the Russians tells things a little different.

According to him, you sold him my coke and you took the money.

That's a fucking lie!

I can't believe that you would believe this shit from a fucking Russian, man!

Let me see, Tre. Hey, what's more likely, huh?

That you're a greedy little cocksucker or all my coke was stolen by Superman?

- Batman. - I never said Batman!

Enough!

Now my son is waiting out there in the car to go to the movies,

and I ain't gonna disappoint him.

Joe, you're in charge.

Frank... Frankie! That's gotta be the worst

fucking excuse I ever heard, Tre.

- Sorry you had to wait, buddy. - The movie is starting in 10 minutes.

It's okay. We're cool. We're only gonna miss the trailers.

Yeah. But I want to get some popcorn.

When we get in there, get Chris some popcorn.

- Okay? You fucking motherfuckers!

What do you want to drink? You want a Pepsi?

- Yeah, that's fine. - Get him a Pepsi, and I'll have an Icee.

Mixed.

Like when they mix the red one and the blue one.

And a pack of Twizzlers.

The comic books had it wrong.

It didn't take a trauma or cosmic rays or a power ring to make a superhero.

Just the perfect combination of optimism and naivety.

You are fucking awesome.

Come on then, bring it on!

Daddy, I'm scared.

Come on, Mindy, honey.

Be a big girl now. There's nothing to be afraid of.

- Is it gonna hurt bad? - Oh, child.

Only for a second, sugar.

A handgun bullet travels at... More than?

- 700 miles an hour. - 700 miles an hour.

So at close range like this, the force is gonna take you off your feet for sure,

but it's really no more painful than a punch in the chest.

I hate getting punched in the chest.

You're gonna be fine, baby doll.

How was that? Not so bad.

Kind of fun, huh? Now you know how it feels.