Crocodile Dundee In Los Angeles Page #6

and four Biggie Fries.

So that's four Classic riples...

- Uh, wait a minute.|- and four Biggie Fries?

Uh, here comes Stan and Harry.

Uh, they'll also be|dining with us tonight,

so we need...|six triple burgers with cheese...

and six Biggie Fries.

Okay. Six Classic ripples|with cheese and six Biggie Fries?

- You know what I'd really like to do?|- What's that?

Go right up on the roof|on one of those skyscrapers.

That's easy.|Just find one that's open.

S'truth. This is|higher than Ayers Rock.

Yeah. Of course, the buildings|in New York are a lot higher.

I was there, you know.

Old New York.

Or as we call it, the "Big Apple. "

Big Apple?|Why do you call it that?

Well, because|it's really big and, uh--

Yeah, but none of those buildings|are as dangerous as this.

What do you mean?

Well, they don't have|earthquakes in New York.

They have 'em here|all the time, right?

Yeah.

We could have one right now.

God!

What do you reckon|it'd do to this building?

Hey, I wouldn't wanna be up here|if she started shakin', eh?

[ Chuckling ]

I've seen enough.|You done?

Oh, yeah.|No point in hangin' round.

This quake-safe?

No worries.

Oh, mate, I need a drink|after all those 1, 286 stairs.

No worries, mate.

Didn't work.

Well, you gotta wait. There's hundreds|of cars going through...

and just us two trying to cross.

Yeah?|Now there's 20 of us, eh?

Yeah, but you can't do that.|It's illegal.

Well, I don't see any cops.

Yeah, but they have cameras|at all these intersections, see?

If you do anything wrong, they take|your picture and send you a fine.

Yeah, but I ain't wearing|a number plate around my neck,

so how the hell are they|gonna know who I am, huh?

When you landed here,|you showed 'em your passport, right?

- Yeah.|- Got your picture in it, dopey.

Oh, yeah, right.

I wonder|how much they fine you.

It all depends on how many times|you push the button.

- This looks like us.|- Great. Texas bar. We're in.

This could be a bit of fun.

These American cowboys|like a good barroom brawl.

- ## [Disco ]|- Howdy, boys. Step on in.

Howdy, ma'am.

- Ma'am.|- Howdy, cowboys.

# It's raining men|Hallelujah #

Stone the bloody crows!

That must've been|one of those poofter bars.

Yup. Only I believe|the correct term is "gay homosexual. "

That's what they call|their shirt-lifters over here.

The only woman there was|the cowgirl at the door.

## [ Rap ]

Give it up, punk,|or I'll blow you away.

- ## [Rap Continues]|- Uh, hang on. I can't hear you.

## [Stops]

- That's better. Now how can I help you?|- Smart-ass cowboy, huh?

- Hand me over your money, man!|- They ain't cowboys.

- They're fools dressed up!|- Fools got money too. [ Laughing ]

- Give it up or I'll bust a cap in your ass!|- Yeah, hand it over, b*tch!

B*tch?

Son, you have any idea how quick|you have to be to catch a tiger snake?

I'm always getting mugged.|I must look rich.

It's one of them soft-top cars.|Cave in.

- [Punks Yelling]|- [ Horn Honks ]

- Ow!|- You know,

this must be why they call L. A.|the "City on Wheels. "

What do you mean?

They don't even get out|of their car to mug you.

- Hey!|- [ Groaning] Ow!

It's all your fault, homes!|You shouldn't have called him a b*tch!

Should we call the cops?

No point. Over here,|they'd probably end up suing us.

Besides, it's not their fault.

It's the drugs.

I saw all about it|on that Geraldo Rivera.

He knows the streets.

Let's just get a cup of coffee|and go home.

Don't be too hasty|ordering coffee around here.

You might not be too happy|with the way they serve it.

Trust me.

And this is where a big crocodile|almost bit his leg right off.

- Whoa!|- Neat!

Well, to tell the truth, kids,|it wasn't really that big.

No more than 20 feet or so|anyway.

[Boy]|Whoa! That's huge!

- [ Chittering ]|- Yes, I know.

They just don't appreciate|a real artiste. I'd have bit him too.

I thought you were fabulous.

I don't care what that director said.|He's an idiot.

You were really good.

- You said black with one sugar, right?|- Oh, yes.

- Thanks, mate. Excellent.|- And...

I got us a little treat|for our friend here.

Oh, great.|That'll hit the spot.

- Black and one sugar.|- [ Slurps ]

She's a bit grumpy today.

Not happy with|the size of her trailer.

She wants a big one like Virgil,|but I keep telling her,

"Virgil's a lion.|You're only a monkey. "

- [ Chittering ]|- Sorry.

"Chimpanzee. "

Say, have you thought|about changing agents?

Diego, you're talking to a chimp.|They don't speak English.

Neither did my first wife.

Neither did my first wife.

Keep moving, Dravos.

Don't be stupid!|Mind the painting!

[ Muttering ]

Just lean it carefully|against the wall for now.

- [ Thuds ]|- Carefully!

G'day, Phil.|What's happening, mate?

Hi, Mick.|The usual continuity nightmare.

Right.

- What's that mean?|- It means I have to make this set...

look exactly like it did|on location in Yugoslavia.

Yugoslavia. Is that where|all these paintings come from?

Yup. They had them|done there. Dumb.

Would've been cheaper here,|and more realistic.

Oh, so none of these are valuable.|They're just all copies.

Yup, and rather|poor ones at that.

And these huge, tacky frames?|For God sakes.

Don't they usually cart|the sets and the props...

from one country|to another and back again?

Maybe in a big-budget international|movie like Mission: Impossible 3.

But I haven't seen Tom Cruise|hanging around the set, have you?

Tom Cruise.|What's he look like?

Like... Tom Cruise.

Jeez, Mick, were you|born in a cave?

Yeah!|How did you know that?

Never mind.

Jim, the Van Goghs|are down at the wrong end.

See, here they started with|the Gauguins, one above the other.

Let's get this right.|We gotta be done in here tonight.

They're shooting|in here tomorrow.

[ Sniffs ]

[Mick ] You see,|you can mix heroin into a plaster,

make it any shape you like.

So, when I see this guy go nuts 'cause|they bumped the lousy painting,

that's when I knew|where the drugs were hidden--

molded into the picture frames.

Pure heroin, or|as we call it, "smack. "

Jeez, Mick, you really do|think like a detective.

Yeah, well, it comes sort of|natural to me, you know?

- Hey, Mick.|- Ah.

That was the police lab.

Sorry. The frames are just plaster.|There's no drugs.

Oh, bugger it.

I was sure|I cracked the case.

I don't know. Maybe they're not|smuggling anything.

Oh, no. They're sneaking around|with something.

I just haven't found it yet.

Look, I read about this fella,

he used to push|a wheelbarrow full of cow dung...

across the border every day.

"Manure for the garden, " he'd say.|Went on for months.

And the border guards knew|he was smuggling something,

so they'd stop him and rake through|that manure with a fine-tooth comb.

Never found a thing.

Turned out they were right.|He was smuggling something:

wheelbarrows.

Right under their noses.

See, it's there, and I'm just|not seeing it... yet. But I will.

Nah. I reckon he was right|the first time. It's drugs.

They wouldn't go to all|that trouble for wheelbarrows.

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