Nothing But Trouble Page #3

Renalda:
IT SMELLS.

IT STINKS. GO, GO.

NICE TOWN, HUH?

Chris:
EVEL KNIEVEL

AND MR. CLEAN.

Renalda:

OH, THIS IS BETTER.

PULL OVER.

I LIKE IT HERE.

I'M HUNGRY.

LET'S EAT RIGHT NOW.

LET'S OPEN THE WHOLE

THING UP NOW.

I DON'T SEE BUTTER.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

I DIDN'T FORGE THE BUTTER.

ANTONIO THE BUTLER

FORGOT THE BUTTER,

NOT ME.

CHRIS, DO YOU

WANT A DRINK?

NO.

DIANA, SMILE!

THIS IS:

A NICE ROAD.

OH, YEAH.

CHRIS, CHRIS, SMILE.

I GOT YOU IN THE MIRROR.

SMILE!

OH, NO. A COP.

WERE YOU SPEEDING?

65. THAT'S THE NATIONAL

SPEED LIMIT.

WELL, NOT EVERYWHERE.

IT SAID 50 BACK THERE.

50?

WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?

YOU DON'T HAVE TO STOP.

WHAT? RIGHT.

LET'S

GET OUT THE GUNS

AND BLOW OU HIS FRONT TIRES.

ARE YOU CRAZY?

OF COURSE:

I'M GOING TO STOP.

[SIREN]

WHAT ARE YOU:

TALKING ABOUT, DUDE?

THIS IS:

A PROVINCIAL COP, MAN.

WITH THIS CAR, YOU COULD

EASILY GET AWAY FROM HIM.

LET'S SEE

IF WE COULD DO 90.

ARE YOU KIDDING?

THIS BABY WILL DO 130.

SO LET'S DO IT!

GOOD. GO, CHRIS.

THORNE,

FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, GO.

GO, MAN.

YOU WIMP CHICKEN,

LET'S GO!

HIT IT! PUSH IT!

THIS IS A LITTLE

GODDAMN HAMLET.

CHRIS, GO!

HERE WE GO.

PUSH IT!

I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THIS.

I DON'T KNOW.

GO, CHRIS.

COME ON, CHRIS, GO.

DON'T BE SCARED.

PUSH IT!

WE'RE WINNING!

YOU HAVE A BMW.

ACT LIKE IT.

FASTER!

NOW I THINK YOU MAY

BE BREAKING THE LAW.

FORGET THE LAW!

OH, BUT IT IS SMOOTH,

ISN'T IT?

JEEZ. HE'S GO A FAST CAR, TOO.

OH, SH...

CHRIS, CHRIS, MOVE IT.

FOR CHRIST'S SAKES,

MOVE IT, CHRIS.

UH, MAYBE WE BETTER STOP.

NO.

NO, I THINK

I CAN LOSE HIM.

Cop:
PULL YOUR VEHICLE

OVER NOW, PLEASE.

PULL OVER NOW.

WHAT THE HELL:

IS THAT?

DETOUR!

CHRIS, WATCH OUT!

HERE WE GO!

WHOA!

HE STILL WITH US?

UH-OH.

WHERE THE HELL:

ARE WE?

GO TO THE LEFT!

[HONK HONK]

OH, SH*T!

BE CAREFUL:

ON THIS SIDE!

I'LL DO THE DRIVING,

ALL RIGHT?

JUST GET OVER!

JUST GET TO THE RIGHT!

BLAH BLAH:

GABBY GAB GAB.

WILL YOU BE QUIET,

FAUSTO?

JUST LET ME DRIVE.

[HONK]

SIR, THIS IS

A HEAVILY TRAVELED

INDUSTRIAL ARTERY.

THESE TRUCKS:

OWN THIS ROAD.

OH, MAN. I JUST WAN TO GET TO ATLANTIC CITY.

SIR...

THESE SPEEDS ARE NO ADVISABLE THROUGH HERE.

TIENES DOLARES?

OH, NO!

EVERYBODY RELAX.

ALL THEY CAN DO IS CITE ME

AND HAND ME A BUNCH OF TICKETS.

I'LL PAY THEM, AND

WE'LL BE ON OUR WAY

BACK:

TO THE TURNPIKE.

OH, I SEE.

IT'S ALL

MY FAULT NOW.

FOLKS,

MEET ANDY GRIFFITH.

GOOD AFTERNOON.

DRIVER, STEP OUTSIDE

THE CAR, PLEASE.

WAS I SPEEDING?

I'M SORRY.

I WASN'T SURE YOU

WERE A REAL COP,

AND PLEASE,

I MEAN THAT IN A

COMPLIMENTARY SENSE.

THAT'S OK.

THERE'S NO LAW

AGAINST HAVING:

A SENSE OF HUMOR.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes