Family. Such a sweet and lasting curse. Even though I see the ghosts of my forefathers
accusing me from their perfect graves, I failed them. I failed you. Oh, God, forgive me. I've
dismissed the name Purge. The truth is, boys, the Birch family funeral house is on the very
brink of foreclosure. And I've let our name fall ruin and left it to the mercy of the son of a
bitch, Crayons. Come to freedom, cursed boys. The Birch should let it all go to hell.
The fate of the family business is in your hands now.
Now, bury me at the church.
Thanks for stealing that, boy. Oh, Pastor Mike, surely you haven't forgotten 2nd Isaiah, verse 23.
You're a man of the word. Let your fathers be buried in the land they love.
Hey, your father was a special man. Nobody mourns his passing more than me.
Why won't you fucking bury him?
Give him to you in the house of God.
And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?
It's your bit.
Oh, what? You can't say fuck?
No, you can't say fuck.
You're father and I had a conversation shortly before he died, he ever mentioned it?
Oh, good. That's better left between him and God.
Well, let me tell you, your father was not the man that you thought he was.
No, no, no, no. He was inflected.
Papa wasn't inflected.
Listen, Reverend, you keep talking about our Papa like that.
This conversation might get a little less civil.
Please, I'm not afraid of you. I've got God on my side.
And I would have to answer to him if I ever let somebody as morally repugnant and sick
as your father be buried in that cemetery.
All right, that's it. Jake, drop this sanctimonious prick.
Hey, no!
I mean, I'm sure we can come up with some other arrangement.
All right.
All right, fine. We'll find somewhere else to bury Papa, somewhere better.
By the way, Box, Papa looked real nice in there.
Yeah, you did a real good job on him, Box. You could hardly see where he...
You know.
We're birches for Christ's sake. This is the birch family, and our Papa is back there,
and I'll be damned if that pharisaical fuck is gonna keep us from burying him.
Good evening, and how'd it do out there, Pattern Astrophals? This used to be an direct stab.
Keeping your gears turning an inch and running all through the night, you got us a collar on the line.
Howdy, Pondman. What can old Randy do here first?
I'm gonna kill Pastor Mike for this.
Well, to tell you what, Randy, I was here at the side of the road, got a flat tire,
and my sparrow was passing on time.
I wonder if you should check the alignment on his bolts.
Well, Pondman, you should check the alignment on your bolts.
Oh, you know what, Hal is just... If I had a nickel for every time this piece of shit...
Look out!
Wait a minute.
Elder?
Is he...
Jesus Christ, the tire tracks smushed right into his corn-fed face.
He must have ran over his head and squashed it like an old hunk.
Just what the hell do you think you're doing?
What does it look like I'm doing? I'm calling the ambulance.
I'd say it's a little late for that.
Man, am I... am I... am I gonna go to jail?
You're not going nowhere. You're not going to jail.
You're my brother.
You're not going nowhere. Boxing is all right.
Hey, calm down, calm down.
I promise you, no one is going to jail, okay?
We just have to make this look right.
That's right, dead.
Just buried him yesterday.
Exactly, so if you could just have another month of...
Yes, I understand it's not your problem, but...
Well, the same to you.
Papa wasn't kidding about those creditors.
Goddamn bloodsuckers. We need a plan.
What if they're just for prints?
We could try and hock some of the caskets.
You can't run the place with no inventory.
Or they exhumed one of the bodies that I worked on and they get a match.
Or flowers, you know.
You must have a shit ton of flowers lying around.
That's fucking stupid.
Well, me?
No. Yes, actually.
This is the Birch family funeral house, all right?
We make our living caring for the dead.
What if no one's dying?
And Box, please, with the police in this town,
they couldn't catch a baseball with a mile wide mitt, all right?
There's no chance they're going to come sniffing around here.
Do I smell trouble?
You boys want to tell me what I'm looking at?
Found this fella out on the road last night with a flat tire.
You know anything about that?
Alone?
Lighten up, boys!
It's not like you killed him.
I just told you it was an accident.
Unless you know something I don't.
No.
I'm curious.
I sure was broken up when I heard about your papa.
He was a good man.
I'd be sad to see this place go.
Oh, well, we won't let that happen.
I suppose it must be hard running a place like this.
Laws of supply and demand and all.
Well, we appreciate the county's business.
And if you need more,
you can always start murdering people.
No, absolutely not.
You're right, box. We'd have to be extremely careful.
No, that's not what I mean.
Careful about what?
Nobody with a family.
There has to be another way.
Oh, yeah? Name one.
Joe, wait one, come, pick a minute and tell me what the hell is going on here?
We're talking about murdering people.
For money!
Oh, Eldra, I don't know.
Don't you think that's a little nefarious?
No, not if we're only killing assholes, people who had it coming.
Like Pastor Mike.
No, no, no, no, no.
That's fucked up, box.
I can't believe you threatened your own brother.
Now you're fucked up.
And both of you.
Don't you see this is the only way to save this place?
And I will not be the birch to let it all go to hell.
No, it's not worth murdering people for.
Take a battle!
Careful, box.
There's room for two on that table.
Take him to his room.
He's no birch.
You should be thrilled, he's not there to see this.
Tonight, Pastor Mike dies.
He's dead.
He's dead.
I think it's kind of fucked up.
I was locking box in his room like a goddamn raccoon.
Now?
Come on.
Come on.
Where in the Sam Hill is he going?
Wherever it is.
He's going to be late.
Oh my god, I fucking knew it!
That old shit kicker's eggs suckin' clansman.
Come on!
Come on!
Shit.
Come on, come on baby.
Come on, come on.
It's a couple of queers.
Come on!
Jesus Christ, you'll still do this.
Ain't nothing in there.
Ain't nothing in there.
Box?
You! You made him kill himself!
Come on.
Box!
Come on!
Oh shit.
Run box!
Box!
Come on.
Come on.
Come on.
Come on.
Come on.
Come on.
Come on.
Come on.
Come on.
He tortured him.
He could have saved us, but you tortured him.
That was beautiful.
I'm sorry box.
It was a real fucked up of us locking you in your room and saying you ain't a birch.
Nah, I'm sorry. I mean we're brothers.
I'm not sure what that means, but I do know we're in this together.
So that means we need to lay down a couple of rules.
Saying, from now on, I drive.
Hmm?
Hmm?
Hmm?
Hmm?
