![Find Death Race 2050 on Amazon](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BMTkzNjA4MjgyMl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMTE1ODIyMDI@._V1_SX300.jpg)
Death Race 2050 Page #3
- R
- Year:
- 2017
- 90 min
- 106 Views
What are they doing?
Trying to boost test scores.
(CHILDREN CHEERING)
Don't move,
boys and girls, stay still.
Easy pickings.
(BODIES THUDDING, SQUELCHING)
(SCREAMING)
(THUDDING)
No soft spots, huh?
Wheelchairs f***
up my paint job.
Hmm.
(ALL LAUGHING)
Oh, that Frankenstein.
He sure has a sense of humor.
(LAUGHING)
And now he's got
a real doozy of points!
(BEEPING)
(BEEPING)
Hmm. Left turn here.
ABE:
Left turn.Pedestrian sighted.
(GASPS, WHIMPERING)
(SIGHS) Only one year
short of the bonus.
ABE:
He will suffice.Crank me up.
ABE:
Increasing stimulation.Is this is the right spot?
Yes, yes,
yes,yes!
Yeah, yeah! Kill him!
(GRUNTING)
(GROANING)
ABE:
It's a trap.Rerouting.
Sorry.
(ENGINES REVVING)
(POUNDING)
(ALL YELLING)
What the f***?
Hey,hey,hey,
back,back!
People of America!
We address you in your home
via the vile
Virtual Reality plague!
(INDEEP VOICE)
We can rise up!
(MUSIC PLAYING)
(BEEPING)
We can overthrow the government!
(ALL EXCLAIMING)
The people's voice will...
What?
The camera isn't running.
Are you kidding me?
Well, I'm sorry, I'm ruining your
speech, but the light went off.
Oh, sh*t.
Kill her, I guess.
ABE:
Hello and goodbye.Ten points.
Toaster...
It's raining in my mind...
Have a nice day.
You've got mail.
Kill, kill,
kill, points, ten points.
Butterflies...
Steaming... Gerbils.
Ten points.
Hey, babe.
ABE:
Ten points.Kill.
Hey, are you okay?
You remember me, don't you?
I'm your girlfriend.
ABE:
Tens... You look sexy.You're my shiny sex machine.
ABE:
Ten points...Searching, searching.
Do you want me to
make love to you?
ABE:
Scanning face...No match.
(TIRES SCREECHING)
ABE:
Ten points.Well, we're back, and who
could have seen that coming!
I mean,
scoring your own proxy.
Does it count? I don't
even know if it counts!
It counts! Wow!
Nobody is safe
anymore and I love it!
What?
It looks like Abe
has abandoned the race.
ABE:
Why am I here?Why am I programmed to hate?
So much for GPS.
Don't tell me you
were cheering for Abe.
Everybody's got a favorite.
Just because
Come on, everybody knows you play
golf together in the off-season.
Really? You two probably
race around in golf carts.
The Chairman
wouldn't like that.
Too much wind.
(AUTOMATED HAND SQUEAKING)
(AUTOMATED HAND SQUEAKING)
Too much wind.
Too much wind.
Oh, my dear friend,
you have grown so bold.
Hmm.
Why today, Larry? It really pisses
me off, you know what I mean?
What are you gonna do
about it? We're lucky.
I got two bottles of sunblock
with my last paycheck.
Sunblock?
Like I'm all fancy and stuff.
We're out here in the middle of
the motherfucking Death Race,
and you're talking
to me about sunblock?
That's the price we pay
(SCREAMING)
(GRUNTS)
Give me a break!
I'm just an ordinary guy.
Looks like we got
a real tough guy.
(THUDDING)
(BEEPING)
Am I not tough?
Am I not a guy?
Of course, you are, baby,
but you need clean kills if you
want to beat Frankenstein.
You said his name.
Take it back.
Take it back,
it's still in the air!
(HUFFING)
Frankenstein! (GASPS)
Yo, B, we recycle this.
We're running the lumber
on this hand, you know?
We gotta kick some wheelers.
Tell me something
I don't know, man.
This f***ing road is empty!
(ENGINES REVVING)
Whoa!
(SPEAKS INDISTINCTLY)
What the f***!
Who are these fags?
Some fool crackers
trying to be part of the show.
This ain't open mic night,
motherfuckers!
(GRUNTS, LAUGHS)
(SCREAMS)
Hey, fellas!
(GRUNTS, SCREAMS)
(CRASHING)
F*** you.
I can do this all day!
(BOTH EXCLAIMING)
Kill the motherf***er!
Whoo! Oh, oh, oh!
Bump that sh*t, Chi Wapp!
Yeah!
(MINERVA SCATTING) (SINGING)
Kill, drive, kill, drive
Kill, kill,
drive, drive, drive
(BOTH WHOOPING)
(GEARS SHIFTING)
ANNIE:
Whoo!Whoo!Whoo!
Yeah, it tasted so good!
(PEOPLE CLAMORING) Make some
comments on getting passed today.
Day one comes to a close and all
of our racers are on the board,
with Tammy the Terrorist
out to an early lead.
You want proof
of the power of the Almighty?
Just look at that scoreboard.
My bumper is
a magnet for heathens.
I'm running on the truth,
the power, the glory,
and I got one Goodyear in the back.
(LAUGHING)
Tammy, any messages for the
families of the scored?
Religious law mandates a quick burial.
Five, 10 minutes, max.
Meanwhile, frustration
for Team Jefferson.
Drive, Drive, Kill, Kill
may be
making its way to
the top of the charts,
but today's
slow start may mean
a 187 on Minerva's
chances for victory.
Tell me who!
Tell me the f*** who!
B*tch been stealing my scores
like white people been stealing
from us since the beginning.
Ain't nothing new here.
I'm gonna tell you
what I'm gonna do though.
I'mma grab her blonde hair and rip
it out of her cracker-ass skull,
'cause I'm Minerva!
I'mma f*** her on two...
(LOUD BEEPING)
After a long day of racing,
drivers and proxies will enjoy
here at the
Three Seasons Columbus.
That's the Three Seasons,
because comfort matters
and winter was just a myth.
He gives you theater.
As you know, Jed, race rules
But since we're besties,
tell me, what really goes on
when the cameras go off?
Jed has 500 times the
testosterone of a normal man.
It's like having sex
with 500 men at once.
Awesome.
CROWD:
Frankenstein!Frankenstein!
Frankenstein, Frankenstein, why
did you take off your mask?
Tell us more
about your scan
Frankenstein, do you have any
ideas about Abe's whereabouts?
It's been a long day, folks,
we just wanna get some rest.
Always let your lady do the talking?
(LAUGHING)
You got past me today.
But sooner or later,
I'm gonna get
my hook in you
and reel you in.
Couldn't they
engineer you any clothes?
How'd you get so
ridiculously handsome?
(MICROPHONE BEEPS)
I'll drink your tears,
Frankenstein!
I'll lick them off
your handsome face.
(WHIRRING, BEEPING)
(CLEARS THROAT)
Well, uh,
ladies and gentlemen,
I want to take you on a little
stroll down memory lane.
Uh, back,
I'm talking, way, way back,
when Jim was just a skinny kid
and Laura wasn't such a b*tch.
(PEOPLE LAUGHING)
Does anybody
remember salespeople?
Huh? How about waitresses?
You know, little blondes
Jim, how many people
have you got working for you?
I'm talking about human people.
How many? A dozen?
Less.
Less. Wow.
So, the only thing rarer than the
black rhino that we're about to eat,
is a person that
you actually pay.
Which makes us the richest
motherfuckers on the planet.
(CROWD CHEERING, LAUGHING)
But also, that gives us
a 99.993% unemployment rate.
So, that's an awful lot of people
with an awful lot of time.
So, what do they do?
The screw? They multiply?
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Death Race 2050" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 31 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/death_race_2050_6590>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In