Another Day in Paradise Page #4

Synopsis: Bobbie is an addict and small-time thief. When one of his jobs goes bad, Mel is called in to patch him up. Mel offers him a chance at a bigger score. Over time, Mel and his girlfriend Sid become almost like parents to Bobbie and his girlfriend Rosie, but this can't last.
Genre: Crime, Drama, Thriller
Director(s): Larry Clark
Production: Trimark Pictures
  3 wins & 1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
6.5
Rotten Tomatoes:
57%
R
Year:
1998
101 min
272 Views


Take it out.

Let me see it. Let me see it.

Put it on the bed.

My partner's going to count it.

If it's all there,

you get your Black Beauties.

You hit the road

and everything is cool.

If it comes up short...

I'm just going to take

all your f***ing money.

And you can suck my dick.

Okay...

f***er?

No. It is all here, three G's.

Perfect.

Watch this.

Five thousand Biphetamines.

It is as simple as that.

Ha!

Just f***ing with you fellas.

What, are you from California

of something?

Like a surfer?

Like a Big Kahuna?

Yeah.

You in a band or something?

What?

Don't worry boys, it's all there.

Your mommy's and daddy's

money is well spent.

Go on beat it.

Kahuna hit the

f***ing big waves, baby.

Bye.

- F***er.

- Who do you think you are?

- Fast Draw McGraw?

- What, what did I do?

Hey, the f***ing guy

was trying to set the price.

That is my job.

Okay, that's my f***in' gig.

And he looked pretty mean,

that guy. Barry?

He was like a mean looking guy,

wasn't he?

- I was scared.

- Scared shitless.

F***, I was shivering,

quaking in my boots.

Oh my God, did you see his shirt?

- Oh my God.

- Oh baby.

You know, you are a forty-year-old

who acts like a kid.

And you are a kid, sh*t,

who acts like a forty-year-old.

Hey, you know what I am,

I'm a f***ing forty-year-old.

- Yeah, I know.

- Okay, so I act like a kid.

But I f*** like a kid too,

okay, baby?

Yeah, that is true.

I'm a kid who fucks like

a forty-year-old.

- Sid, come on back, Sid.

- Sid, thanks for sharing all that.

- Yeah, thanks.

- Thanks for over-sharing.

- I think she likes me?

- No.

Hey, why can't you f***ing shoot

it like everybody else?

You know your needle-phobia

is wasting a lot of my good smack.

What is your problem, man?

We got so much sh*t

we are giving it away.

Oh I guess I'm just a little

tense about our next deal.

The f***ing guys call

themselves Hitler's Henchmen.

They are like a bike gang

that don't require bikes.

Go figure.

Sid don't want to have

anything to do with 'em.

But man, they want

so much f***ing volume.

I don't give a sh*t what

they call themselves, man.

As long as they got a lot of dough.

Sid doesn't like 'em?

Oh, she has been on my ass

about it all f***ing day.

Yack, yack, yack, yack, yack.

It is like, f*** it. You know?

I mean I'm the one

who lost relatives in the war.

Don't bother me none.

Grudge shopping?

Whatever.

Mel?

What!

I don't want to get near

these cock-suckers.

Fine, okay.

So who's going to bring the

sh*t over when we make the deal?

I will.

I'll bring the sh*t over.

Great. Okay.

- Let me know when it arrives.

- Yeah, fine.

- Wait.

- What?

Give me that. Thank you.

What the f***, man!

Are they on the rag or what?

Not my girl.

Well mine is on the rag

or both of them.

Look at this.

- That was pathetic.

- Where is the rest of our sh*t?

- Rosie took it over.

- So I have nothing?

Great.

Everybody is f***ing high but me.

You know we do our own cookin'.

Make crystal so good

it looks like glass.

- Ain't that right, Ty?

- Yeah, we do.

So if your crank is so good,

how come you want these ups?

Well not everybody likes crank, pal.

Some people like pills.

After we get done selling these ups,

twenty-five G's turns into a hundred.

That's why "big-time."

Make the call.

Fifty thousand beans.

All right then.

Say, have you ever heard this one?

If the "Flintstones" was black,

what would they call the show?

"The N*ggers."

What, you don't think that's funny?

Hey, I got one...

How do you circumcise a redneck?

I don't know.

Kick his sister in the chin.

What the f***!

You see?

You can't never be too cautious.

F***!

Spinner here came up from nextdoor.

The rest of the stash...

probably there with the Jew-boy's

b*tch guarding it!

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Ty and me will stay here.

You two go get the c*nt

and our stash!

Listen boss, you got

the best hand!

Why don't you just let

the chicks go?

Let me just get

the kid to the hospital.

I got fifty G's stashed.

Melvin, do you know how you get a

hundred Jews into a Mercedes Benz?

In the ashtray.

How do you like me now,

mother f***er?

Jew-boy's b*tch?

Melvin!

Sh*t!

F***! Are they dead?

- No?

- Yes, no?

Are you all right?

Are you all right, Bobbie?

Get up, get up. Sh*t!

We have to get you

to a hospital.

Bobbie, get the dope.

Go get the car.

Get the car, Rosie! Now!

- Get the money!

- No, get the dope!

- Get the f***ing money!

- All right, get the money!

Come on,

we have to get out of here.

No Mel, he will get the money, honey.

Come on, get up.

Mel, let him get the money and get up!

Bobbie, you okay man,

you f***ed up?

Come on I can't pick you up, help me!

Okay, okay, okay.

I can't hold you,

come on, stand up.

Damn it!

Bobbie, are you hit?

Are you hit?

- Oh sh*t!

- We're going to the hospital.

- No we are not!

- We got to get you to a doctor!

And the kid needs a real doctor!

If we go anywhere near

a hospital in the five-state area,

we're f***ing busted!

The reverend's the only

chance we got!

He has a whole crew working.

So we go to Jim-Bo's

which is only three hours away.

Oh God.

F*** it!

I should have gone to Veterinary School.

I was going to be

a f***ing vet, you know that?

- I was going to be a vet.

- Who the f*** cares man!

I thought it was bullshit,

sticking my f***ing finger

up a poodle's ass!

You are really sick.

Oh f*** me.

I think I'm f***ed up.

I'm f***ed up.

It was a funny joke about

the "Flintstones."

How can you laugh like that?

Doesn't it hurt?

Yeah, it f***ing hurts,

but only when I laugh.

Oh my God.

We need to see the reverend.

Go on down to the house.

Careful.

You are home now, boy.

Ain't nobody going to hurt you.

Don't be moving around.

You have to lay still.

You were mighty bad

when you came in,

but you are improving by the minute.

Only kidding.

He has helped a lot of folks.

Oh slow it down there, boy.

Hey there.

I kind of like you this way... crazy.

You know they got goats here.

Cows, chickens, rabbits.

I lost it.

Buy hey, don't worry

about me, I'm cool.

What would we do

with a baby anyway?

Don't think, okay? Just rest.

I'll come back later

and give you a blow-job.

Yikes.

- Do it again?

- Yeah.

Oh that is good.

Look, I got hair on my toes.

When did I get that?

I didn't have that before

I met you guys.

- You need a pedicure.

- You want to give me a pedicure?

Sure I'll give you a pedicure.

I have to try this.

- Want a drag?

- No thanks.

So what you doing with this

Mel fool anyway?

- With this Mel fool?

- Yeah.

Oh man, I can't wait

to get out of here.

F***ing middle of nowhere.

All this...

Space!

Makes me nervous, man.

Give me, high rises,

traffic, smog.

F***ing anything but all this

God damn...

nowhere, nothing, sh*t!

I hear you, man.

- I got this friend, Jewels.

- Yeah?

He has some vault thing going.

It sounds pretty good.

What do you mean?

I mean we got a job.

We are out of here tomorrow.

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Eddie Little

Eddie Little (August 25, 1954 – May 20, 2003) was a widely acclaimed American author. He wrote Another Day in Paradise, later made into a film of the same name directed by Larry Clark. Little was also the author of "Outlaw LA" an ongoing article published in LA Weekly. His writings were a rugged portrayal of coming of age in the underbelly of society and heroin addiction. His books were largely autobiographical, and although his supporting characters tended to be fictional, the narrators were almost parallel with himself. Little died of a heart attack in a Los Angeles motel room, at the age of 48. He was survived by a daughter and two siblings. more…

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