Foxy Brown Page #2

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- Yeah.

Both of them.

- I don't think we're supposed to do this.

- No, it's all right.

Now, come on up here...

...like this.

Yeah.

- A little more this way.

- Like this?

Oh, now, really, Mr Anderson!

You know perfectly well that's a no-no.

- Time for your bath, Mr Anderson.

- Oh, sh*t.

Now, Mr Anderson,

we'll have none of that nonsense.

Ooh!

Clean o' body, clean o' mind.

Then a body Jesus'll find.

Easy, now.

Just let me cut this one here.

There's that one.

Just one more here.

There we are. That's it.

There.

So that's it, huh?

It's a good job, Doc.

His own mother wouldn't recognise him.

I like it.

Well, there's the expert's opinion.

What man wouldn't be satisfied with that?

- It won't fall apart if I laugh, will it?

- No.

- Just no fistfights for a few months.

- No way. My fighting days are over.

- I've got other plans from now on.

- Yes, so I noticed.

Something to look forward to.

It's all right if I get out of here for a while,

isn't it? I really need some new scenery.

It's up to your boss.

Just so long as you're back tonight. I can't

check you out officially until tomorrow.

I guess he's gotta try it out

on the street sometime.

Well, you all have some things to talk

about. I'll see you tomorrow, Michael.

I guess this is the time

that you'll be needing these things, Mike.

There's a birth certificate.

Driver's licence, credit cards, social

security numbers, a lot of other things.

And...

You might not wanna keep this,

but I'd like you to read it.

It's from the boss.

From the director of

the Bureau of Narcotics.

He thanks me on behalf of

the US Government for all I've done.

For all I've done.

Nothing!

Two years undercover. The best case

put together against a dope syndicate,

and we couldn't even get an indictment

because the fix was in on the grand jury.

Only way to handle those hoods is with a

bullet in the gut, like they tried to get him.

I know how you feel.

It's hard not to agree with you, but...

Anyway, you're out of it now.

There is no more Dalton Ford.

From now on

you're officially Michael Anderson.

It's a pleasure to walk among people

and not have to worry about anybody.

Oscar? What are you doing?

Sh. Wait a second. Just watch.

Wait a second. Watch this.

My baby!

That's my baby!

Agh!

OK, get that a**hole outta here.

Whoo!

Foxy, baby. What's happenin', mama?

Oscar. That wasn't exactly smooth, but

he had no business pickin' on a cripple.

That was one of them no-good n*ggers.

Been tryin' to catch him for a long time.

Mm-hm.

Oscar, I want you

to meet my friend Michael.

- You a friend of Foxy's, you all right.

- I'm glad to know that, man.

- He's with the neighbourhood committee.

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