Club Paradise

How come the dog gets to sit in there

while we're freezing our ass off out here?

It would be cruel to let him out

on a night like this.

- He's just a dumb animal.

- No, Dave, we're the dumb animals.

Keep it right there.

Over to the side. Yeah, yeah. Stay back.

A little girl?

- I'm coming. All right, I'm here.

- Yeah.

Where were you on the stairway, a**hole?

- I was looking for you.

- Oh, yeah, looking for me.

This is my kind of night, Dave.

The wind chill factor's 10 below zero...

that building's an inferno,

my stomach's a goddamn volcano...

and I got an icicle of snot

hanging from my nose.

That's it. This is my last fire.

I'm hanging up my hose.

Bullshit, Jack.

I've heard that from you 1,000 times.

- Bullshit? Oh, yeah?

- Bullshit.

Read this, pal, and weep.

"Paradise for Pennies. A Garden of Eden...

"built on a secluded lagoon, with its own

private dock and speedboat included.

- "Contact Mr. Banks, Saint Nicholas."

- Where the hell is Saint Nicholas?

- It's in the islands, Dave.

- Which islands?

Nice, warm islands.

Go on, ma'am.

- My baby is in there.

- Yes, I know.

My baby.

Damn it. Hand me that crowbar.

Let me know what's happening.

Let me know what the spread is.

- Move along!

- Where's he going?

Get in after him!

Oh, sh*t!

Come on, baby. It's me, Jack.

Come on.

Come on, baby.

You want to play?

You furry piece of sh*t.

Get the net! Come on, babe.

Come on, baby. Yeah! Get it, baby.

Jack, Jack! Oh, Jesus! Jack!

Dave.

- Jack.

- Dave.

I'm here, Jack.

I quit.

Son of a b*tch.

Jack, can you hear me?

Sh*t.

Jack!

Limbo time, everybody.

How low can you go?

Do you mind, Jack?

lt's awfully loud, isn't it?

"Awfully loud, isn't it?" Quite true. Sorry.

Terribly sorry.

Jack, this is Captain Toby Prooth

and Phillipa Lloyd.

They just came in from Antigua.

Toby has the most beautiful sloop.

Yes, he does. Are you cast or crew?

Strictly crew.

And, of course, you know the Governor.

Oh, the formerly honorable

Anthony Croyden Hayes. Your Excellency.

Good gracious, man, are you still here?

You remind me of a sort of strange

vegetation that just popped up...

and now we can't get rid of.

It seems that you've been here for a year.

Oh, it's just been five months. But tempus

really fugits when you're having fun.

That's what I love about you tourists:

the instant you get your pink feet...

into some sand, you start thinking about

giving up the dry-cleaning business...

in Cleveland and moving to the islands.

Are you in the dry-cleaning business,

Mr. Moniker?

Hat-blocking? Xerox repair?

Fireman, sir. Chicago fireman. Retired.

- That's interesting.

- There's a smashing yacht club...

in Chicago. Belmont Harbor.

Well, you see,

yachting's a little tough in Chicago...

'cause they tend to shoot at you

from the South Shore.

Yes, you have a nice, steady kind

of violence in the States. Very predictable.

Here in the jungle, it's basically long,

tedious periods of sweltering doldrums...

punctuated by the occasional bloodbath.

I think we're due for one at any minute.

Now, now, Tony...

don't start those wild rumors

about revolution again.

Well, it happened in Kenya, didn't it?

They dragged those fat burghers

from their beds in the dead of night...

forced them to drink blood

through a severed sheep's penis...

and then hacked them to pieces

with machetes.

It isn't bad as all that.

Besides, I don't think there are any sheep

on Saint Nicholas.

I heard about this guy in Cicero.

He stiffed a loan shark. So a couple

of these guys got him. Cut off his arm...

beat him to death with the arm...

then shoved the arm in a food processor,

and made a dip out of it.

Then they served it to his family

at his sister's wedding.

And his sister loved it so much

she wanted the recipe.

It's a crazy world, isn't it?

You two are a cheerful pair.

Flotsam and jetsam.

My dear young lady, unlike you...

I have not spent my life cruising

from discotheque to discotheque...

with my ass hanging out

of a French-cut bathing suit.

- You're missing all the fun, aren't you?

- I suspect you're right.

Prooth, I'll be stopping

by the Club Paradise later.

There's some wonderful music.

- We have other plans.

- I bet you do, you party Cossack.

Be careful. Somewhere on this island,

there's a doll with your face on it.

Voodoo. Ta-ta. Take care.

- Mr. Monkey.

- Oh, Miss Pansy.

- Bless you, girl.

- No problem.

Have a time.

Yeah, man. Whiskey.

Radical. Yes, man. Evening, girls.

- Hello, again.

- Hello.

Bug spray?

No, thanks. They don't bother me.

They will. Take it from me. I'm lsland Jack.

Oh, really? And what island are you from?

- Ellis, originally.

- So what do you do around here?

After you left the Palms,

they said you were a smuggler.

No, I'm a snuggler.

No, actually, I'm retired.

I live off a big insurance settlement

from the fire department.

- Fraud?

- No. Injury.

Permanently and totally disabled

in the line of duty.

You seem fit enough.

- But inside, I'm a mess.

- I don't doubt it.

- Would you care to dance?

- Yeah, why not?

I think we better sit this one out.

Thank you. I told you I was injured.

Phillipa.

Can we leave?

This place is absolutely ghastly.

Do you mind?

I'm a close, personal friend of the owner.

- This is the finest hotel on the island.

- I wouldn't be surprised.

Imagine trying to run a first-class hotel

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