Next Friday Page #2
Debo jumps up staggering with scrapes and bruises.
DEBO:
You know I'mma find you! You can run ya'
can't hide!
Craig screams out the window.
CRAIG:
You fake ass Suge Knight!
MR. JONES
That nigga worst than them damn pit
bulldogs or something! That's why moving
wit'cha Uncle Elroy and Cousin Day-Day is
the best thing for you right now.
CRAIG:
(with attitude)
Ya'll making me look like a punk.
MR. JONES
It ain't about being a punk, son. It's
about this...
Craig smells something in the air.
MR. JONES (cont'd)
My great, great grand daddy on my Momma
side; had a saying... 'See a fool --
leave a fool.' Somebody else a get him.
Plus, I don't want that fool shooting at
my house trying to hit yo' ass.
CRAIG:
What's that smell?
Mr. Jones sniffs.
MR. JONES
Must be your upper lip, 'cause I don't
smell nothing.
CRAIG:
(holding his nose)
I do.
MR. JONES
What it smell like?
CRAIG:
Smells like you didn't fall in no mud.
Mr. Jones grabs the air freshener from under the seat. He
starts to spray too much. Craig's window won't roll down.
CRAIG (cont'd)
What's wrong with the window?
MR. JONES
I gotta get'em fixed. They don't roll
down.
CRAIG:
All damn.
MR. JONES
Just hold your breath.
EXT. CITY OF RANCHO CUCAMONGA - MORNING
They exit the freeway and pass a sign that reads, "Rancho
Cucamonga" (the city away from the city).
EXT. UNCLE ELROY'S STREET - CONTINUOUS
Welcome to the suburbs. Where the "Smiley Happy People" live
in peace and quiet.
The neighborhood is full of green lawns and nice two story
track homes as far as the eye can see. The yellow truck
drives through the streets and pulls up to a cul-de-sac. Mr.
Jones BLOWS the HORN.
MR. JONES
Nice neighborhood, huh?
CRAIG:
It's alright.
MR. JONES
18-years of chasing dogs; and my lazy ass
brother hits the lotto his first time
playing. I still can't figure that one
out.
CRAIG:
Why they got to have the loudest house on
the block!
Uncle Elroy's house is royal blue with gold trim. All the
other houses are painted in earth tones.
MR. JONES
Ah, son, don't be no hater. You know
your uncle ain't got no taste. Just
don't let him rub off on you.
Craig grabs his bags.
CRAIG:
You coming in?
MR. JONES
No, I'mma go on to work. I don't wanna
hear Elroy's mouth. Now listen to me,
Craig. It's gonna be different living
over here. Don't let your uncle and your
cousin get you into no sh*t. Understand?
CRAIG:
Hey, Pops, I'm grown. Can't nobody get
me in trouble no more.
As craig gets out; the front door flies open. It's DAY-DAY
(22), Craig's crazy younger cousin. He yells back into the
house.
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"Next Friday" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/next_friday_913>.
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