My weave!

- What the hell, Karofsky? - Oh, I've wanted to do that ever since fifth grade...

when you made fun of me for getting pubes.

Now that you've joined Lullaby Lee's and insperminated the queen of the Chastity Ball...

and dropped below us hockey dudes on the food chain?

- It's open season. - Screw you, Karofsky!

You and your Neanderthal puck-heads are nothing!

- You're gonna pay for this, dude! - No, I'm not.

You two don't have the juice anymore. Welcome to the new world order.

Mm-hmm.

- Hey, guys. - We need to talk.

Okay.

As you know, even though she refuses to wear the ring and won't tell anyone...

including her mother... about the engagement, Emma and I are, in fact, getting married.

Yes. Ken convinced me we need to at least be in the same room when the marriage is certified.

What can I say? I'm a traditionalist.

We're going to Hawaii and getting married on the beach.

And you want me to come?

No, no, no, no. I picked Hawaii, because it's far away from everybody we know.

- Oh. - Uh, the thing is...