Double Take Page #4

I mean, how bad can it be?

It ain't like you murdered anybody.

Man, what kind of sh*t are you into?

Freddy, do you remember my assistant,

Shari? You met her at the office.

The one with that phat ass?

Yes. Well, she's dead.

I'm sorry, man. My bad.

I'm sorry to hear that.

L- I went to her apartment and, uh...

I don't know what happened, man. These two cops

wound up dead, and they think I did everything.

What's up with the CIA, b*tch?

- Ah, here you go, gentlemen.

- Uh, thank you. You're a scholar and a gentleman.

Compliments to the chef.

How do you know

about the CIA, Freddy?

I, um... I can't really

talk to you about this.

Is that why we're on our way to Mexico?

I happen to know Mexico

like the back of my hand.

I am internationally known.

I done mischief everywhere.

Puerto Rico, Colombia, Brazil...

all them Mexican countries.

- That I believe.- Well,

since you're starting to believe me...

we been watched

for the last three states.

- Yeah, I'm sure.

- I'm serious as a heart attack.

By Curly from the Globetrotters

over your right shoulder.

Don't look.

It'd call attention to yourself.

See, you need me more than you think.

'45 was a good year, sir.

Yeah. Appreciate that.

- Man, I gotta run.

- Run where?

To the bathroom. Man, that prime rib

is running through me.

Well, I hope you can hold it.

Ah, ah, ah, ah.

Oh, come on, man. Damn!

You heard me say I gotta go, man.

Excuse me, uh, sir.

- Could you help me with

this door here? - Sure.

Appreciate it.

Let's see what you got on you.

I know you ain't got no condoms.

Too ugly.

- We got your monkey ass.- Lookie here.

A ugly picture of you. You know this dude?

- Hell, no.

- Well, he seems to know you.

Sh*t! Who is this, Freddy?

I have no idea.

- That was a good plan, man. Thanks.

- Oh, anytime.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. He had a gun?

"Had" is the key word

in that sentence.

- Hey, Freddy.

- Yeah?

Freddy, there's a body out here.

What you want me to do?

Walk away from it before

people think you had something

to do with it. I'm using the bathroom!

- Man, you really hit me, man. - Man, if

you don't shut up, I'm gonna check your hinges.

- Shut up, man, before you get us busted.

- I done met you down here like you told me to.

- Dribble, Curly, dribble. Go to your lanes.

- You bust me in the head.

- Hey, how's it going this evening?

- Fine.

- Can I bother you for a paper?

- Go right ahead.

Let's see what we got here.

Uh, look, these papers...

never made it on the train.

Sir, I ain't got change for a hundred.

- They ain't never made it on the train.

- They're gone.

All aboard...

the night train!

No problem. I'll take care of it.

Hope you're having a nice trip, sir.

- Wonderful. Put that on my bill.

- Sh*t.

Well, well, well,

look who made the paper. Page three.

"Wall Street Banker Wanted

for Questioning in Multiple Homicide. "

No, no, no, keep reading.

There's a $ 100,000 reward...

for your whereabouts and/ or capture.

- Are you gonna turn me in, Freddy?

- You know, the thought had crossed my mind.

No, bro. Just relax.

- You wanna take a seat?

- No, I'm okay.

- You mind if I cop a squat?

- Not at all.

All right. Join me, man.

Go on. Take a load off.

Look, Daryl.

I believe you're innocent.

I had to be sure.

You know, I treat each case

with a certain amount of trepidation.

Uh, I'm really not Freddy Tiffany.

My real name is Fred Tiffany.

I had you fooled with

all that street sh*t, huh?

Yeah.

Mr. Chase, I'm with

the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

I'm protecting you

on the way to Mexico.

And once we get there, we're

gonna flush out the real criminals.

Man, you got everybody after you.

You got the CIA, the FBI...

NBC, UPN, you pick a nigga,

as-salaam alaikum.

- What happened to him? - Oh, he's just drunk,

man. I'm just trying to wake him up, you know.

Ya all right, baby?

Ya all right, brother?

Get your ass off this train.

- What the hell! What the hell are

you doing? - Shut up!

Help!

What are you doing? No!

- You're in trouble.

- I am?

Yeah, you are. No pets on my train.

Ah, damn! I had it!

I'm gonna whoop his Wall Street ass.

How's your mama? We went out.

What you lookin' at? You know,

you'd make a nice nine-piece.

Your ass and a couple of biscuits.

You know black people like chicken.

You see any flies around me? Huh?

I'm just playin'. I'm just playin. '

- Take care, now.

- Good luck to ya.

Thank you.

Hey, what's happening, ese?

Hotter than a Mexican whorehouse on

nickel night with a $5 rebate, I hear.

Mr. Funny Man, eh?

And how long do you plan to honor us

with your presence in Mexico?

I'm just gonna be here a couple of days.

But let me ask you somethin', now.

Where them big-booty Mexican b*tches be

hangin' out? You know what I'm sayin'?

- Identification, por favor.

- Identification. No problem. No problem.

You better alert the governor

that Freddy Tiffany is in the house.

- Freddy Tiffany?

- Oh, no, no, no, no.

That's internationally known

Freddy Tiffany, fool.

We'll alert the governor that

Mr. Internationally Known has arrived.

- Internationally known.

- Just un segundito.

Handcuff his ho when a nigga

like me step up in the place.

Tell you right now.

Ain't that right, Delores?

In, b*tch.

I'm gettin' tired of you.

Tell you that right now.

Put on a little music.

Goddam.

Arriba, arriba,

Speedy Gonzalez.

Let's go!

Oooh, sh*t!

You wanna live, get in the car.

You wanna die, get in the car.

I know how to duck us into Mexico.

Think! Just think, Daryl!

How is it I'm outside your apartment?

How do I know where

your office is, Daryl?

How am I at the bottom

of the escalators at Penn Station?

Huh? I'm the FBI.

Federal Bureau of Investigation.

And the name is Fred Tiffany,

by the way!

Most highly decorated agent

at the whole Bureau!

But you wanna believe

a drug dealer, McCready.

If I wasn't a Christian...

Delores, sit still, b*tch.

Hey. Hey, that's one

of those old-school hip-hop beats.

That's like some Run D.M.C.

That's more like Grandmaster Flash.

No, no, no. That's definitely Run D.M.C.

Man, listen to the grooves.

Come on.

What you know about hip-hop?

- You got that. You got that.

- Huh? This is "mus-ack. "

Man, it's kind of phat, though.

- I like the little mariachi horns, man.

- Yeah, that's tight. That's tight.

- What you doin'? Leave that on.

- Oh, all right.

You don't know nothin'

about that music.

- What?

- Mus-ack.

Definitely don't know nothin'

about dancing to no mus-ack.

Son, you better recognize,

all right? I got skills.

- Skills?

- Serious skills.

Oh, show me some of them skills,

Mr. Wall Street Executive.

- Is that a challenge?

- Yes, that's a challenge.

Hold this.

- Why, sure.

- I'm D.C., boy.

Well, let me check Chocolate City out.

Dark chocolate.

Free your mind,

and your ass will follow.

Aww.

You might be from the projects.

- Ah, son!

- That had to hurt.

- All right.

- Here. Limp your way back over here.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes