Thursday Page #3

You are working so f***ing hard

to be what you think I want...

instead of giving me what I need.

Quit trying so hard.

Why don't you just be yourself?

I don't want

Fred MacMurray, Casey.

I want you.

You, the cocky,

determined guy, full of life.

-"Full of--"

- You wouldn't like who I am.

I married you!

I love you.

I don't want

to lose you, Christine.

Christine!

There is nothing in that case

but a pack of legal documents.

Maybe a box of condoms.

That's it.

[ "Phone Ringing" ]

Yeah?

I just want to know one thing.

What kind

of f***ing drugs are you on?

What?

I want to know what kind

of "f***ing drugs" you were on...

to make you think you could

bring f***ing smack into my house!

- That briefcase was locked, Case.

- Yeah? Sue me!

That wasn't very trusting

of you to go through my sh*t.

This ain't exactly me borrowing

your trading cards here, Beave.

You brought sh*t into my house!

Into my home!

Which I invited you

into as my f***ing guest!

You know what they did

in ancient Rome...

when a visitor violated

somebody's hospitality?

They cut off his dick and they

nailed it to the f***ing gate!

See, this is why

I didn't want to tell you.

I knew that you would have very

little enthusiasm for this deal.

I had a little business

to finish up in Houston,

and I wanted to tell you

"adios" face to face.

I want you to pedal your ass

back here, pick up your sh*t...

get the f*** out of my house.

No can do, buddy.

I appreciate your situation,

but I told you...

I got a little unfinished

business to take care of.

- So what?

- A little unfinished business.

If you're not

back here in 1 5 minutes,

you're going to have

to pick up your sh*t

And tell 'em what?

Your ex-partner

just happened to stop by...

with a basketful of goodies...

and you felt it was

your moral obligation

- I don't think so.

- Look, you lame piece of sh*t.

I am having

a little bit of trouble...

coming up with reasons not to blow

the back of your f***ing head off!

You're not sounding like

that happy little suburbanite

Don't forget.

Never can tell who's listening in.

Just watch my sh*t, Case.

I'll be back in a couple of hours,

I'll pick up

my bags and I'll split.

''Watch your sh*t''?

You're not

hearing me, Nick. get--

Sorry, case. time's up.

Gotta go.

Nick.

Nick!

Nick!

F***! F***! F***! F***!

"[ Reggae ]"

Say, man,

you got the wrong house.

I didn't order any pizza.

What?

I said you got the wrong house!

I didn't order the pizza!

This ain't your pizza, no?

No.

What kind is it?

Meat lover's.

I'll tell you what--

How much is it?

I'll buy if off you.

No, man. No can do, no?

You ain't ordered the pizza,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes