Mo' Better Blues Page #3

Don't be looking at your Timex.|The people get in when l want them to.

- And when is that?|- Whoa, whoa!

The time is when, God. Lounge.

The both of you can kiss|my narrow black butt... two times.

Twice.

Kiss your narrow black butt two times?

What if l kick you on your flat back|once and watch you grow a butt?

Relax, man.

You ain't got no butt. You just got|two legs sticking out your shoulders.

Lounge, man. Go in peace, my brother.

- One day you'll be righteous.|- You look like a Slim Jim in a suit.

Lounge, man.

That's what the devil wants,|us fighting each other.

- Where's Left?|- Late again.

- B, every day it's like this.|- Yeah, l know, l warned him.

- We have to talk to this guy.|- l talked to him earlier.

- When?|- l'll bet he's with Jeanne.

That's a sucker's bet.

- Take off, sh*t.|- Sorry l'm late.

You cannot find cab|in New York Oity.

Left, you're late again.

We said we're sorry, OK?

- All right, all right.|- OK, OK.

What did l miss?

lf your late sorry ass would've|been here, you'd have missed nada.

- We're about to go over the numbers.|- Then l didn't miss anything.

- Damn.|- What's the matter with that brother?

Jeanne, could you| excuse us, please?

Just one minute.|l'll be finished, just one minute.

- Tighten this up up here.|- OK, OK.

- Could you excuse us, please?|- Just a minute. l'm finishing.

What is wrong with that brother?

Left, get her the f*** out of here!|Let's go!

Jeanne.

l'm going to be down front.

English. Speak English.

Bullshit accent. She's from Queens.

The wrong key, Left. The wrong key|bringing your lady in here.

- Let it go.|- Why are you so hard on my lady?

Why?

Your lady's been f***ing up.

Nobody's allowed back here,|especially when we're about to hit.

Everybody else's woman|respects that sh*t except her.

- No, no. lt's because she's white.|- Oos she's white?

- Yes.|- Come on.

That's why you all dog her.

- Get a grip, Left.|- You remind me of my brother.

He was an Archie comic book freak.

That's where all his money went.

- Yeah, he looks like Jughead.|- ls this a long story?

Shut up and listen.

They had these pinups|of Betty and Veronica in a bathing suit.

One day, he tore them out,|Scotch taped them to the wall.

- And?|- And my moms walked in.

She saw red.|l knew there was going to be trouble.

l said, ''Mommy, get Larry,|it was his idea.''

''lf l ever...'' Whack. ''...see any|white women...'' Whack, whack.

''...on my walls again, in my house,|l'll kill you.''

l started to cry, ''Mommy,|don't kill him. That's my only brother.''

- ''He loves Betty and Veronica.''|- And the moral of the story is?

There is no moral to the story. Keep|that croosant-eating heifer out of here.

lt's croissant. And show some respect.|Don't disrespect her like that.

She's good to me,|so have some respect.

- You show some respect.|- Respect the dressing room.

- Yeah, man, respect yourself.|- Do right, Left.

- You're jealous.|- Jealous?

Oouldn't pull a French girl.|She's an educated woman.

She went to the Sorbonne.|You don't know where it is.

- Sore buns?|- You can get it on 125th Street.

She's a sister, you know.

- Oh! She's a sister?|- Sister? What kind of sister?

- She's a nun.|- She's Joan of Arc's sister.

- lgnorant. You're ignorant black men.|- l got a Ohinese girl.

- She can cook, too.|- You guys are justjealous.

Jealous?

Do l talk about your women?|The women up on that wall?

Them women over there?

That's a sister.

And they go on a wall, right?|This is my sister right here.

Here, man, a real woman.|You make a choice.

That's cold. That's cold.

Don't be throwing the sisters around.

You guys are absolutely disgusting.

Take that sh*t off my mirror!

- Respect the black woman.|- No, you respect my space.

- This is the queen.|- This is my space.

You take the queen.

The bottom line is you were late.|You brought your lady in here.

Don't do that anymore.|Everybody knows the rules.

Left, you're f***ing up.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Moe and Josh Flatbush|and Beneath The Underdog

proudly present|for your listening enjoyment

the Bleek Quintet.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Did you see them lines?

- We got eyes.|- We got ears.

Bleek has consistently packed the joint.

- We're pleased.|- We're more than pleased.

- We're ecstatic.|- Fabulous.

We want more money. You're making|a killing. What's fair is fair.

No. What we're|paying you now is fair,

and it's what you agreed upon.

You want to take food|out of our kids' mouths?

- lf we had it, we'd give it to you.|- But we don't have it.

- Ever heard of the word renegotiate?|- Out of the question.

$15 cover charge, three-drink minimum,|dinner starts at $25.

You guys are making money|hand over fingers.

- What about the artist?|- Don't hand me that artist doo-doo.

They don't have any financial risks.|Go listen to the music, huh?

- You think Bleek's Elvis?|- There's only one Elvis.

- There's only one king in music.|- And that starts with an ''E''.

Come on. Go shoot some hoops.|Gimme some moves, huh?

Let me eat my sushi.

Black queen.

l mean, my slice of pie.|The apple of my eye.

My chicken thigh, extra spicy.

Ham, Spam.

Eggs and bacon, chicken and waffles.|From Wilsons.

How you doing, baby?|You're looking good to me.

- What happened to you, Bleek?|- What happened to me?

- l've been waiting for twenty years.|- Twenty...

My watch must be going slow,|lt says 15 years, but l'll get it fixed.

Baby, you should have been|down the club. We was kicking butt.

- Good. l'm glad it went well.|- l wish you were there.

- You know how l feel about clubs.|- No. How do you feel?

All that smoke!

l'd rather sit at home|and listen to your records.

l mean, bothering with all them people,|it's not my thing.

- What are you talking about?|- What do you mean?

- What are you saying?|- What am l saying?

Be specific? What am l saying?|l'm saying that l love your music,

but l don't like|sitting up in some club.

That's all you're saying?|You're not upset cos l'm late?

- No. That's something different.|- l see.

Shall we go upstairs?|Want to talk about it upstairs?

- We might, could.|- We might, could? Oh!

- Now. l'm not waiting anymore.|- We might, could.

l used to coulda, woulda,|shoulda. That sounds like a good song.

What would you do, Bleek,|if you couldn't play anymore?

Probably roll up in a corner and die.

l'd play at my own funeral, though.

l want to bite your neck.

No!

The other side.

- No!|- The other side.

The middle.

The lips.

Yes, the lips.

There's more blood in the lips.

- Don't be afraid.|- No!

Mm.

Mm.

Mm.

Mm.

- Mm?|- Mm.

- Giant.|- Son of a b*tch.

Giant.

Seen the paper?

l can read.

Can you count?|Cos you owe me.

- You know l'm good for it.|- You're way over as it is.

- Are you going to carry me or what?|- You're going to give me a hernia.

My man, l feel good about this one.

- Shoot.|- Come on, let's go.

Mets, Oards, Astros, Phillies, Dodgers|and the Padres.

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