The Green Hornet

= Music or songs

Daily Sentinel, one moment please.

The mayor doesn't want the article on gas

prices go to print.

Tell the Mayor, I'm insulted.

I would never jeopardize the journalistic integrity

of this newspaper,

for some rent-a-mayor's political agenda.

Very well Mr. ...

So, Britt.

Here we are again.

Sent home after another school yard fight.

I know you miss your mother.

So do I.

But I have to take care of 750 employees,

and you have to take care of yourself.

Still that seems to be asking....to much.

I was trying to stop some bullies...

Trying doesn't matter when you always fail.

No, Dad!

Do you think it makes me happy to do this?

-YES!

-No it doesn't.

There's not a week goes by when you find

yourself in some kind of trouble.

But if you're doing this for attention,

you have all that I can afford to give you.

And you're wasting my time.

No, no, not you.

Have a seat.

Either one, they're both very comfortable.

So what can I do for you?

As you know, I have worked my entire

life, very hard...

to achieve one goal.

-Well.

-And that goal, which I have in fact, achieved.

Was to be in charge of all the crime,

in the city of Los Angeles.

Therefore, the fact that you assume that

you can open this establishment,

without my permission.

without payment, and sell narcotics out of it.

Is completely unacceptable.

Really?

And to be honest.

Quite insulting.

Therefore, you must sign up ownership of this

establishment to me.

For which time you become my employees.

What, we're...we're your employees?

Yeah, or close down permanently.

The choice is yours.

Okay, uh, how do I pronounce your name?

Ch...Tchaikovsky.

Chudnofsky.

Char...chadost...chod dosky.

Chud...nof...sky.

Chudnofsky.

All right, Chudnofsky.

Kiss my ass.

Put your lips to my ass,

and kiss it.

French kiss it.

Tickle it with your grey whiskers.

I got bitter sweet news for you.

You're washed up.

You're old, you're boring, you're not scary.

You dress like shit.

It's over for you, okay.

That's the bitter news.

Now the sweet news is,

you can retire.

You can go play golf.

Eat your dinners at 3 O'clock in the afternoon.

Play with your grandkids, drink Metamucil.

Old people shit.

Okay, look at me.

I got a name people can say.

My name is Danny Clear.

I deal crystal meth.

People call me, crystal-clear.

It's easy.

Check out my kick-ass hangout here.

I got pillars of glass everywhere.

I got a see-through piano.

Look at my boys.

They're pimped out.

We got Gucci, Armani, another Gucci.

Tailor made.

This is what you need to get to the top, today.

Not hard work.

Not dressing like disco-Santa-Claus.

You need charisma.

You look like my Uncle Gregg.

Very nice guy, but, he's a dentist.

Now consider this your retirement letter.

Boom!

It's over.

See your way out.

Well you truly don't think I'm scary?

Nah, no.

Okay, o...kay, you're scary!

Yeah, you're scary.

You just said I'm not.

No, no you are. You are.

What's a Disco-Santa?

Disco-Santa, I don't know.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

It was just something stupid to say.

You said I'm boring too.

My gun has two barrels.

That's not boring.

But is was very difficult to make.

-Answer me!

-What?

Well what can I do to be more scary?

A better name?

A cooler name?

A little more color, or something.

Ah, um....

May...maybe, maybe you could say something

to people before you kill them.

But not now. It's hard to think with

this double barrel in my face.

Sorry.

You've given me a lot to think about.

You're not going to kill me?

Okay I get it. You keep me alive so I

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