Blow Page #7

GEORGE:

Holy sh*t, Dulli. What the hell are you

doing here?

KEVIN:

Well, I'll tell you. I was walking down

the beach, minding my business, when who

did I see but this f***ing guy. I

didn't know you guys were living in

California.

GEORGE:

Yeah, but what are you doing out here?

KEVIN:

I'm on vacation. On my way back to

school.

GEORGE:

This calls for a joint. You want to do

the honors?

KEVIN:

No, man. I'm too f***ed up.

TUNA:

Nice weed, huh?

KEVIN:

F*** yeah. I never seen nothing like

it. I'm f***ing wasted.

GEORGE:

Right on.

KEVIN:

G-d, I'm stoned. I'm stoned. I'm

really...

GEORGE:

Stoned?

KEVIN:

I wish there was sh*t like this back

home.

GEORGE:

Yeah?

KEVIN:

Sh*t, yeah. Do you know how much money

I could make if I had this stuff back

east?

TUNA:

No sh*t, Kevin?

KEVIN:

That's right.

GEORGE:

Yeah?

KEVIN:

When there's something to move, it's too

easy not to. Do you know how many

colleges are in a twenty mile radius?

U. Mass, Amherst, B.U....

TUNA:

Smith. Hampshire....

KEVIN:

Right. And Holyoke. There are a

hundred thousand rich kids with their

parents' money to spend, but there's

never anything available. Nothing good,

anyway. I'm paying four hundred dollars

for sh*t.

INT. THE WHIPPING POST - MANHATTAN BEACH - 1968 - DAY

Derek, George and Barbara sit around. The blinds are drawn.

GEORGE:

The way we figure it, Barbara flies to

Boston twice a week. Two bags per

flight. Twenty-five pounds in each bag.

DEREK:

You're kidding, right? That's a hundred

pounds a week.

GEORGE:

Yeah, I know, it's a lot of weight.

BARBARA:

We're gonna call it California

sinsemilla. Sounds exotic.

GEORGE:

I'm telling you, Derek, it will sell.

DEREK:

I don't know...

GEORGE:

Here's the best part. We can charge

five-hundred a pound.

DEREK:

Come on, George, no one is going to pay

that.

GEORGE:

It's already been negotiated. It's

done. The money is there waiting.

Derek looks at Barbara. She nods.

DEREK:

Goodness.

GEORGE:

Goodness is right. If you do the math,

that's over thirty grand a week profit.

I want you to be my partner on this,

Derek. Fifty-fifty. That's fifteen

thousand a week for you, my friend. In

your pocket, free and clear.

DEREK:

And I only deal with you?

GEORGE:

Barbara and me. No one else.

Derek thinks about it.

BARBARA:

It's gonna work, Derek.

DEREK:

I don't know. East coast. Airplanes.

It all sounds pretty risky.

GEORGE:

She's a flight attendant. They don't

check her bags.

EXT. LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - 1968 - DAY

George drops Barbara off in her uniform curbside. They kiss

and she walks away with two big, red Samsonites. She checks

them with a SKYCAP and tips him.

EXT. SKY - 1968 - DAY

A huge jet goes right to left through frame.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes