A Night at the Roxbury Page #3

STEVE:

Is not.

DOUG:

Is, too. I get this number all

the time.

STEVE:

At least she respected me enough

to write a fake number. We'll get

a real one one of these days.

DOUG:

One of these days? Steve, don't

you get it? These are our days.

Now! Today! Ahora!

STEVE:

Ah whatta?

Doug jumps off the car, starts pacing.

DOUG:

Steve, we're young. We're

supposed to purge ourselves of the

party virus or we'll just get so

clogged up that when we're like

forty we'll just explode.

STEVE:

Yeah, like one of those individual

plastic butters you get in the

diner. You know, like when you

squish it, just bursts out all

over the place.

Steve makes explosion sound.

DOUG:

Forget the butter, Steve. I'm

trying to explain --

STEVE:

(interrupting)

Or like when you put an egg in a

microwave and all the yellow stuff

flies out.

He mimes exploding egg.

DOUG:

That's an exceptional way to

visualize it but listen to me.

STEVE:

Oh! Remember in camp when we put

that can of beans in the fire?

DOUG:

And it exploded. Yes. Steve! If

we're ever going to live up to our

full potential, we've got to get

this partying out of our systems

now.

STEVE:

Let's do it.

They both get in the car.

CUT TO:

INT. BMW - NIGHT

DOUG/STEVE

Alright, let's do it! Do it!

Woo!

STEVE:

... Do what? Everything's closed.

Beat.

DOUG:

Then let's go home.

STEVE:

(excited)

Let's go home! Wooo!

CUT TO:

EXT. BUTABI HOUSE - MORNING

The house is a bad '80s combination of classical styles.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - MORNING

We PAN AROUND to see semi-juvenile furniture -- which is

overwhelmed by a huge stereo system.

Doug sleeps, mouth open. A piece of red licorice reaches

INTO FRAME and starts darting in and out of Doug's mouth.

He coughs and waves it away. The licorice starts going

up his nostril. Doug wakes up.

DOUG:

Hey! Knock it off!

STEVE:

Twizzled you, my friend.

DOUG:

Yeah, you totally got me.

STEVE laughs at this, starts eating the licorice.

DOUG:

That was in my nose.

Steve stops eating.

CUT TO:

INT. KITCHEN -- DAY

Two giant Great Danes plow through, knocking over plates.

We meet their dad, KAMEHL BUTABI, fifties, Eugene Levi-

type, with some sort of Middle Eastern accent.

MR. BUTABI

Captain! Tenille! Stop that!

Steve and Doug, in silk bathrobes, hair completely

disheveled, enter.

MR. BUTABI

Look at this. Barbara, look who's

honoring us with their presence.

We meet their mom, BARBARA BUTABI, well kept trophy wife.

She tries to straighten out their hair.

DOUG/STEVE

Ma!... come on.

MRS. BUTABI

(handing Doug orange

juice)

Here...

DOUG:

(rejecting juice)

Mom, I'm trying to get my body to

enter the zone, so I can optimize

my fat-burning potential, and

orange juice does not help!

STEVE:

Doug, according to 'Fit for Life'

the idea of a balanced breakfast

is a fallacy. Your body is only

prepared to accept one form of

food in the A.M. -- fruit.

Steve grabs the glass.

DOUG:

You can putrefy your insides if

you want to. But, I'm having a

cup of cooked oatmeal, one

tablespoon protein power...

As Doug continues, Mr. Butabi gets more and more annoyed.

DOUG:

... and four soy sausage links.

(to Steve)

That's how you hit your peak.

MR. BUTABI

(sarcastic)

Quick, Barbara, look at Doug. He

is hitting his peak. You don't

want to miss this.

MRS. BUTABI

Honey, if you're going to hit your

peak, do it in your room.

STEVE:

All I want for breakfast is some

sliced mangos and persimmons.

MR. BUTABI

That's enough, you two. Your

mother is not the maid.

STEVE:

No, can you tell the maid I want

some sliced mangos and persimmons?

MR. BUTABI

I want you both at work in half an

hour. And, Steve wear something

nice. Emily's back from school.

DOUG:

Excuse me, Dad, but I think you're

confusing Steve for someone who

gives a flying rat's ass.

STEVE:

Wow, a flying rat's ass. That

would be wild to see.

MRS. BUTABI

Kamehl, they'll be there. Just

let them have their breakfast.

MR. BUTABI

Sure. Eat. They need their

strength so they can stay out all

night for their dancing and their

orgies.

STEVE:

For your information, Dad, Doug

and I were not able to find an

orgy last night.

MR. BUTABI

Barbara, explain something to me.

They graduate from high school and what

do they do? Nothing. Do they go

to college? No. Do they take any

intrest in my business? No. Do

they think about the future? No.

DOUG:

Dad, if you know all the answers,

why do you keep asking the questions?

MR. BUTABI

Half an hour. I want to see your

dance club asses at the store.

Mr. Butabi exists.

CUT TO:

EXT. RODEO DRIVE - SIDEWALK- AFTERNOON

"Staying Alive" by the BEE GEES. Set of shoes walking, a

la the opening of Saturday Night Fever.

We WIDEN to another set of shoes -- PAN UP to reveal Doug

and Steve, strutting down the street like John Travolta.

Each holds a silk plant.

INT. STORE WINDOW - CELL PHONE

We see the guys pass. They stop and hold up their cell

phone to the one in the window -- same way Travolta did

with the shoe.

A beautiful WOMAN walks by. They turn to look at her

ass. They run back and stand in front of her. She

pushes them aside.

WOMAN:

Jerks.

She exits. They continue. They pass a cappucino

cart.

CAPPUCINO SALESMAN

Single or double?

They look at each other to confirm their choice.

STEVE/DOUG

Double.

They walk with their iced cappucinos in bubble top cups

with straws. MUSIC FADES.

CUT TO:

INT. SILK PLANT STORE - LATER

Steve and Doug enter holding silk plants. Mr. Butabi

walks up to them, takes the plants. Doug is wearing a

Walkman.

MR. BUTABI

Good. Steve, you have a customer.

Doug, go ring that man up.

They both nod agreeably. Steve exists. Doug doesn't

move, still listening to the Walkman. Mr. Butabi pulls

his walkman off and points at the register. Doug exists.

CASH REGISTER COUNTER

Doug steps behind the counter, helping a COUPLE with several silk floral arrangements.

DOUG:

How will you be paying for this?

Cash, check or charge?

MAN:

(pulling it out)

Charge.

DOUG:

(looking at it)

Visa, Mastercard, or Discover?

MAN:

Move your thumb.

Doug moves it.

DOUG:

Oh... Visa. Good one.

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