All Out Dysfunktion! Page #5

because you don't like germs?

Yeah, that's...

that pretty much sums it up.

Well, you better get used to it,

you pencil-poker

piece of p*ssy lint!

Welcome to L.A.!

Oh, yes, Mike.

I am ready.

First a.D.,

can I talk straight

to the talent?

Oh.

Grow some f***ing balls.

"Welcome to L.A."

Look, there's one more thing.

There's this old lady, clarelle,

who manages this place.

I don't think

she's gonna be cool

with us having a party here

last minute.

I'll deal with

the roommates, but...

Don't tell me you dragged me

all the way here

to ghetto valley to tell me

that it's not gonna work.

I'm giving you $2,000

and enough coke

to melt your face.

- Face, b*tch. -Let me

explain something to you.

I don't care about ravers.

I don't care about music.

And I don't give

a f*** about people.

What I care about

is my money and my time,

so don't f***

with my money or my time.

In about three hours,

I'm on a plane to Miami.

If you don't come through,

you're gonna face a shitstorm

of unimaginable.

So, now what are you gonna do

about this old lady, clarelle?

I don't know.

Can we knock her out

or something?

How old is she?

- Sixty or 70?

- F***.

We can't f*** her up.

We can knock her out, though.

Oh, every day at 6:00,

she goes out back

and she waters her flowers.

- F***, I'll just chloroform the b*tch.

- Okay, everything's a go.

Ooh, cocktails.

Ah, f*** it.

I'm just gonna inject

that b*tch with acid.

Have that b*tch seeing rainbows.

Jesus, I don't want to kill her.

Shut the f*** up, b*tch.

We're not gonna kill her.

We're just gonna put her

to sleep.

And, on that note,

we're gonna set up

and break down.

By the time she wakes up,

everything will be back to normal.

You get your gig in cash, b*tch.

Gig in motherfuckin' cash.

Will you shut the f*** up?

Seriously.

Come on, dig, b*tch.

All right, look, you guys.

We're gonna go out

the same way we came in.

She's the old lady

that's standing out front.

You can't miss her.

Bruce, give me a bump.

For the love of god.

Oh, yeah, you want

some of Mr. moist?

- Just give me some.

- Want my dick?

Shut up, just give it to me.

Say you want my dick, b*tch.

Say it.

- Say it.

- I want your coke.

Like that sh*t?

All right.

Okay, a deal's a deal,

all right?

And if anything goes wrong,

I'm gonna cut off

your f***ing balls

and I don't owe sh*t,

you broken record motherf***er.

Now get the f*** outta here.

And that goes for you,

too, scooter.

F***ing b*tch.

Isn't she saucy?

Ranjit?

Something I can do for you?

Hi.

Huh, I was just looking

for something.

You know, something.

Laundry room's

down the hall, bro.

Yes.

Yes, the laundry room

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