Money Monster Page #2

- Mmm-hmm.

- They're sending out a press release...

- And it works?

- Apparently, yeah. Pretty damn well.

- Have you tried it?

- I just got it, 30 minutes ago.

- What the hell are you waiting for?

- You want me to...

We're on in five minutes, aren't we? Put it on!

Uh, Mr. Gates, you need this.

Don't forget your talking points.

Oh, yeah, yeah. Put it on my desk.

Okay, where is Diane Lester?

She's all checked in on remote six.

Who writes this sh*t?

- Is the graphics package loaded?

- Last one is just coming in.

Great.

We are still working off the rehearsal script

for the opening, guys.

But he didn't even stick

to the rehearsal script at rehearsal.

- So, about dinner... Did you...

- Okay, you wore me down.

I'm sorry?

I'll go to dinner with you.

We'll go to Scalinatella's, let's say 9:30?

I still have a boyfriend, Lee.

Just like I did yesterday.

Yeah, he's still a bartender in Hoboken,

like he was yesterday.

- Will this work, boss?

- This is a stuffed parrot.

I said I wanted a live pigeon.

Patty, God damn it.

We don't have a live pigeon.

- Admit it. You're gonna miss this.

- You can't find a live pigeon?

I'm sure there are plenty of

emotionally stunted 7-year-olds

hosting TV shows across the street.

Thank you.

Cover yourself...

Roll with yourself in breadcrumbs

and bring a f***ing bird up here.

Jim, can you punch Diane

up on the preview for me, please?

Sure. There she is.

Patty? Patty?

- Hi, Diane, can you hear me?

- Uh, Yes. Yes, I can.

Lee has read the talking points, right?

Because I'm in a tough position here,

and I just want to make sure

that he sticks to the script.

He will. You know us, Diane.

We don't do "gotcha" journalism here.

Hell, we don't do journalism, period.

Scream one is up.

Check. Check. Check.

Money... Money... Money Monster.

About time.

All right, I'm ready.

So, here's a novel idea.

How about you just pick up

some takeout on your way home.

Oh, God, stop. I'm getting depressed.

Get into your most comfortable

pair of pajamas.

Oh, no, no, no. This isn't really

a Friday night for you, is it? Can't be.

- Curl right up in front of the TV?

- Oh...

It's 'cause the idea of television and pajamas

and takeout, good God, it's like...

You get a pool cue, and I want you to

sharpen it down to a fine point.

And I want you to shove it

straight through my eye.

- Hold on a sec, Lee.

- Right into my brain.

You're killing me here, Lenny.

Check your mark, please.

You know what? I drifted and I forgot to lock.

Balls.

That's it.

I would rather you do that

than sitting at home in my underwear

watching "Suck-My-QVC."

Oh!

Look at the new guy.

Where's Leroy? Finally canned his ass.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes