Kid Cannabis Page #6

Synopsis: An eighteen year old high school drop out and his twenty-seven year old friend start trafficking marijuana across the border of Canada in order to make money and their lives are changed forever.
Director(s): John Stockwell
Production: Well Go USA Entertainment
  1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
6.4
Metacritic:
54
Rotten Tomatoes:
71%
NOT RATED
Year:
2014
110 min
Website
860 Views


Someone who has no idea

what the concept of cool is.

Clint Eastwood is cool. Twelve

to twenty words a picture,

Doesn't need to brag,

doesn't need to boast, just gets sh*t done.

How much are we getting paid? Runners get

paid 3500 a run and drivers get 1500 a run.

How much are you getting paid?

Enough to pay you 3500 a run.

I'm putting everything I have,

everyone I love out on a skinny limb.

So, if it works out, yeah,

I may take home some money.

You're gonna be part

of the "a" team, I need you

In the best shape of your life.

That means we train and we train

and then we train some more.

Pain is just weakness

leaving your body.

You want to stop and take a break?

Take a long one and don't come back.

We can't be in the forest.

We need to become the forest.

We need to be prepared

for any and every eventuality.

We're gonna rig scuzz's car

with gas cans to explode

If we get pulled over

by the cops.

Whoa!

Oh, f*** off.

What the f***? Why my car?

Because it's ready

to blow anyway.

And because I said so. F***ing chill.

You sound like my dad.

He might be. I mean, the way your

mom sucks and fucks around town...

F*** you.

We're using two cars,

one decoy and one load car.

Make sure all the cars are clean.

Insurance, even tire pressure.

And we never have the crisp

for the product

In the same car

with the runners.

If we get tailed, the rear decoy

Will attack and distract

and we will keep on rolling.

Remember the details.

Plan the run and run the plan.

Cell phones off.

If your phone's on,

the feds can trace you absolutely anywhere.

We maintain absolute silence.

If we trip off the motion sensors, they'll

be listening to us with hidden mikes.

You close every gate you open,

you pack out what you pack in.

Don't even spit

unless you have to.

Seriously, the last thing

we want to do is piss off

One of these survivalist redneck

types living in these woods.

It'll be 16.3 miles

across the trail.

Supplier will meet us

at the designated transfer spot

And we swap cash for stash.

Load up.

Hold the bag.

Hold the f***ing bag.

You'll be carrying

60 pounds each.

I know exactly how much

is going in,

I know exactly how much

is coming out.

So no loose pillows, no scraped butts,

no samples, nothing.

We got a job to do

and we're gonna do it.

They'll be watching

from the air.

So when we head back,

We need to be ninjas.

Delta force strike team sh*t.

Seriously, invisible,

like baby's breath.

Once we make it across

the American side,

It's a flat-Out sprint

to the finish line.

If we trip off any sensors,

they'll be looking for us.

We better be in our car

and on our way out

Before they even wipe the doughnut

sugar off their mouths. Got me?

You got me or what?

Yeah.

Let's f***ing do this.

All right, hold up.

Hold up.

What?

We're taking a break.

No. No no no.

No sampling.

F*** you, Nate.

Take it out of my paycheck. I will.

Now it's out of your paycheck,

motherf***er.

Those first few runs

went like clockwork.

We were cannabis camels,

team triple "b,"

Humming along like

a perfectly oiled machine.

We could finally afford unlimited

wings and premium beer.

Guys, job well done, eh?

Yes.

Yes.

Many more to come.

F***, yeah.

And another thing.

I got something for you.

These wings are pretty...

happy birthday to me

This is only

the beginning, guys.

Bam.

Jesus, guys, don't open it here.

Don't I get more

than the other driver?

Why?

Because I carried the product.

I took all the risk.

We'll switch it up next time.

Yeah, but I need it this time.

Okay, yeah? And?

F*** you, Nate.

Guys, people are looking at us.

Don't f***ing tell me to chill.

Relax, scuzz.

Hey, are you Topher?

What?

I hear you're paying 3500

To haul great green across the border.

I'd love to get hooked up.

Who the f*** are you?

Who told you that, kid?

Who's talking to you, dick monkey?

Look, man, I'll do it for two G's,

And I promise I can run more pounds

than this f***ing teletubby.

F***ing beat it, kid.

Get the f*** out of here right now, kid.

F***ing four-Eyed fat f***.

What is going on?

Your language.

See how f***ing long

You can play

before you get popped.

Go back to daycare.

Okay, how you doing?

What the f*** just happened?

We do one job

and all of a sudden it's

F***ing all over

the front pages?

Who's talking?

What's going on here?

Not me, man.

I didn't say sh*t, man.

And why the f*** do they think

you're running the show, huh, toph?

What's up with that? I don't know.

Maybe because I look like a leader

And I had to carry your f***ing ass

the whole way. Outside, right now.

Nate.

Topher, be really nice...

Did that kid call him a teletubby?

What is wrong with you?

Me? What is this?

$3,500.

30... Are you

f***ing kidding me?

Drug runners get paid, dude.

A what? I'm not

a f***ing runner.

Dude, I thought

we were partners.

The whole buddy team.

Brothers from another mother.

You wouldn't even

have the f***ing idea

If it wasn't for me.

That's bullshit.

It was my idea. I had

to talk you into it.

You thought it was stupid.

I found

the dream connect. Huh?

The dream connect found you,

and then you f***ed her.

Big deal.

Jesus f***.

Hey man, I found the finances.

I'm handling the administration

And the distribution.

If anything goes wrong,

Going way off

the f***ing page wrong,

It's my ass signed and stapled

to the bottom line, okay?

Look, I'll give you seven k.

F*** your seven k.

You said we were

Splitting this sh*t 50-50.

I never said that.

You said we'd be millionaires.

You will be. I mean,

at seven k a run,

Seven runs a week,

you'll be a millionaire

In 16, 17 weeks.

You said f***ing

multi-Millionaire, Nate.

Then double that!

32 or 34, whatever.

Jesus Christ, man.

F***ing unbelievable.

Are you f***ing kidding me?

I need you to head up

the next few runs.

And you've gotta

tighten it up, okay?

You're the marine, I'm the...

the head 'em up,

move 'em out guy.

I'm... I'm a desk jockey.

I'm the button-Up...

How much you getting paid?

I don't know.

How much you f***ing getting paid?

I don't know.

You don't know?

I want ten grand

on the next run,

Or I'm f***ing done.

- Fine.

- I knew exactly

How much money I was making.

F***ing earn it, though.

More than enough to give

topher's ten grand a run

And to make my mom's

wildest dreams come true.

Best feeling in the world.

Okay, maybe second best.

How do you know these people?

Just some people from work.

Is this one of your

drug-Dealer friends?

Shut up, Phillip.

Phillip.

Wow.

Look at that view.

It's pretty spectacular, huh?

Oh, my god.

Pretty sweet, huh?

Would you look at that?

Wow.

And you say

your friends live here.

Yeah-Huh.

Oh, wow.

What is this?

Baby, whose house is this?

It's our house, mom.

What?

Yeah.

7,800 square feet.

Got our own dock.

Built about four years ago.

You got your own upstairs wing.

Kitchen. Two bedrooms.

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John Stockwell

John R. Stockwell (born 1937) is a former CIA officer who became a critic of United States government policies after serving seven tours of duty over thirteen years. Having managed American involvement in the Angolan Civil War as Chief of the Angola Task Force during its 1975 covert operations, he resigned and wrote In Search of Enemies. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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