Down to Earth

Yo.

- Everything | - Everything

- Is everything | - Is everything

What is meant to be will be

Word.

- After winter | - After winter

- Must come spring | - Must come spring

Change, it comes eventually

- Hey there, little Becky. Hey, Tiger. | - Hi, Jimmy.

Hi, Mrs. Ross, Mr. Ross. | How are you?

- Deliveries in the back. | - Excuse me?

You heard me. | Deliveries in the back.

Why do you think | I'm a messenger?

No, no, no, really. | Why do you just...

assume I'm a messenger?

Is it impossible for me to have | a friend that lives here?

Would that be | out of the question?

To have an old college chum | that lives upstairs...

that I'm comin' by to see | just to talk about old times?

To have a little cocoa? | Would that upset you?

What's wrong? | I can't have no cocoa?

I don't look like | I like cocoa?

What's wrong with me just comin' here | tryin' to have some cocoa?

I'm sorry, sir. I just- I- | Who did you come here to see?

Nobody. Delivery | for Charles Wellington.

Deliveries in the back.

Let me tell you that | everything is everything

- Look out! Look out! | - What's up, man?

Everything is everything

Welcome to Amateur Night at the Apollo.

Y'all ready for a show?

There's no way we're | part of the same place

We're part of the same time

We both have the same blood

We both have the same mind

And time and time

We've had so much to share

No, no, no, no

I'm not wakin' up | tomorrow mornin'

And findin' there's nobody there

No, no, no, no way

And you and you and you

You're gonna love me

Oh, yes, you are

Thank you.

Peace. I'm outta here.

Let's hear it, Apollo, for Phil Quon.

- Congratulations, you killed. | - Thanks, Booey.

Phil Quon. Show your love.

- They're not gonna boo me off, right? | - Did I say that?

- I mean, anything could happen. | - Yeah, anything could happen,

like they invent a new boo | that's silent.

What? Huh? What? | What are you looking at?

This girl I met at the Shark Bar | last night. I told her to come down.

Damn, she's skinny. Until y'all | have sex, she just might start a fire.

Our next act is a comedian. | How about a hand for Mr. Lance Barton?

- What is that? What's with the hat? | - You don't like the hat?

You look like you're gonna tie somebody | to the railroad tracks.

I need style. Nobody wants to see Lance | Barton, bike messenger from Bed-Stuy.

People want to see | Lance Barton, comedian.

- What people? | - Lance Barton people.

Lance Barton, everybody. | Come on.

- No boos. | - No boos.

- Here comes Booey. | - Let's get ready.

Lance Barton, everybody.

Don't touch me, man.

Hey, what's up, Apollo?

Where'd you get that hat, man?

Yeah. Yeah, all right. So, uh-

How come every time...

a airplane crash,

all they can ever find | is the black box?

Why don't they just make | the whole plane out of the black box?

Yeah. I got roaches. | Who here got roaches?

Everybody got roaches, man. | It's Harlem.

Yeah. Yeah, | everybody got roaches.

Yeah, man. I got some roaches | in my house, man.

Roaches so big, one roach | got drafted in the second round.

Get your ass offstage, Booey. | That sh*t ain't funny.

Yeah.

Hey, you suck!

Come on. Hold it together.

I know this girl so ugly, | she had to wear makeup on the radio.

Boo!

All by myself

Don't wanna be

- All by myself | - No!

- Ow! Ow! Hey! | - Anymore

All by myself

You out there with a new hat. | You need a new act.

Well, if I'm so unfunny, | how come you're still my manager?

Lance, you're funny... offstage.

- But onstage, you're, um- | - I'm what?

You're afraid. See, you're afraid | of being yourself, and they can tell.

Hey, kid, don't listen | to the crowd.

You're one funny man. | Phil Quon says so.

- Thanks a lot. | - Two more Rheingolds for my man Booey.

You'd be afraid if every time you played | the Apollo they booed you off the stage.

Well, you don't have to worry about that | anymore. They shuttin' down the Apollo.

- Get out of here. | - Yeah, they just told me.

They're building a multiplex | or quadri plex or some kind of plex.

And they're gonna do a farewell show | with five slots for amateurs.

- That's it. | - You got to get me one of those slots.

Lance, come on, man. | Just let it go. Try someplace else.

I don't wanna | try someplace else.

As long as I'm Booey at the Apollo, | I'm Booey everywhere.

- Where you goin'? | - I'm goin' to the Comic Strip...

to work on my material.

Get me that audition, Whitney.

Later, Booey.

Okay, Lance, where are you?

Right on time.

I gotta work on | my set. I gotta get my jokes together.

I gotta go back to the Apollo and not | get booed. I gotta work on my act.

Oh, my God!

Oh, I hate this job.

Anybody get that license number?

- Where the hell am I? | - We've been waiting an eternity here.

What?

- This ain't the Comic Strip. | - Take it easy, people.

You'll be dead a long time. | You don't have to push.

Excuse me. Excuse me. | Pardon me. Pardon me. Excuse me.

- Bob Krantz, heart attack. | - Yeah.

Sid and Ethel Bugler. | Our tour bus crashed.

- Yep. | - Uh, I'm Gina Lovett.

- Mike said he'd put me on the list. | - Yep.

- All right. Go ahead. | - Thanks.

Tell Mike to stop | putting girls on the list.

Lance! Lance Barton!

- What is this place? | - This is heaven.

Ah, heaven. | I've had this dream before.

Is Pac in there? | Yo, tell Pac I'm here.

Hey, hey. I said no. | Go to hell.

Mr. Barton?

- Where are you going? | - I gotta wake up. I got an audition.

- Let me explain. You're not dreaming. | - I gotta get to the Comic Strip.

- Do you know where the "A" train is? | - Mr. Barton?

- Mr. Barton, here's the thing- | - Keyes, what's the problem?

Oh, Mr. King. No problem, sir.

I have everything under control.

Mr. Barton here was, uh, | having a great time.

No, actually, | I'm trying to wake myself up.

I hate to break it to you, chum,

You're dead. Capisce?

- I'm not dead. | - Lance, come here.

What you're feeling right now | is totally normal.

For most people, dying is | a real shock to the system.

But, baby, it's gonna get better.

It's heaven, baby. The food is great,

the women are beautiful,

and the music, Lance- | the music is hot.

Yes, sir, the fun never stops.

That's great, but I'm not dead.

Look, I got an audition coming up | that I know I'm gonna make.

So you guys can just fix whatever | mistake you made and get me home.

Serge.

Could you check the list and see | when Mr. Barton is arriving?

Barton, Barton, | Barton, Barton. Ah.

Due November 17, 2044,

30a. m., | Eastern Standard Time.

2044?

You could've just given me the year. | Leave a brother a little doubt.

I took him one-tenth of a second before | the truck hit. He couldn't have made it.

What am I gonna do with you?

First, you make Frank Sinatra | wait for a table.

He didn't have a jacket.

He's Frank Sinatra! | He can wear whatever he wants!

- You killed me! You killed me! | - Hey! Hey!

- You killed me! You killed me! | - Hey! Hey! Come on.

Now, Mr. King has been | in charge up here for quite some time.

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