The In-Laws Page #5

- What happened to pimp?

- Fine. You're a pimp.

- No, I'm nothing! It's him!

- Who?

The meter maid is the hostess!

- Nobody is who they are.

- Sounds like you're tripping on drugs, pal.

Look, he's talking to me!

Hi, there.

- I think I breathed a little!

- Don't be such a p*ssy.

Don't call me a p*ssy! You just made me

radioactive with your fissile nuclear waste!

Bet you never said that

sentence before, Jer.

- I don't even know what it means!

- Some things you shouldn't know.

You probably gave me leukemia!

Oh, you're gonna be fine.

Now, hop in.

I'm not hopping anywhere with you.

Jer, we are family. And don't make

me do something I don't wanna do.

We're not family.

There's not gonna be...

I'm going! I'm going!

Now, you hold on tight.

It's a Cushman.

It goes 5 miles an hour.

Not this one.

All right, slow down!

Listen, while I got you here...

...I wanted to tell you I'm so sorry

I had to drag you through all this.

All right, there's a car!

Okay, wait a minute!

- Is that a fanny pack?

- Yes.

What's so funny?

There's a taxi! Oh, my God, a taxi!

This isn't funny. There's a girl!

OStop this! Stop the little thing!

Jer, I'm worried about you.

You just don't look good.

Let me get you a glass of water.

What's the plane situation?

Will I make it to Thibodoux's in time?

It shouldn't be a problem.

You have tailwinds.

He's expecting you at 3.

- You want me with you, I can rejig.

- Here you go. No, I need you here.

I wanna make sure Cherkasov is okay

with the Chicago drop.

Jer. Jer. Don't go there, Jer.

Jer.

You're really gonna have

to work on your listening skills.

Mr. Xerox.

Well, a great supply of copiers

you have here.

I like the one shaped like a rocket launcher.

Does it collate?

Is that a fanny pack?

- It's cute, isn't it?

- It's adorable.

Yeah, it's a fanny pack. I'm a doctor,

something you know nothing about.

I'm riveted. Go on.

I have a phone in here and a pager...

...and some Lorna Doones,

in case I get hungry.

And I also have

a personal attack alarm...

...and if you come near me again,

I'm gonna use it!

She hit me!

Did you like it?

What is wrong with you?

Something's really wrong.

So just tell me what you are. A smuggler?

A pimp? You deal in Russian runaways?

Yeah, we're all those things and more.

We are deep undercover.

We're the CIA.

Great.

Now we have to kill him.

- Oh, Ange, enough already.

- Fine.

I'm gonna go salvage what's left

of my personal life.

- I don't believe anything you're saying.

- It's better that way.

The one thing you should know

is that we are the good guys.

Okay. Look, I didn't see anything.

I'll never tell a soul.

- So take me home and I'm done.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes