Mo' Better Blues Page #4

The full menu. How much?

500 on each game.

You're grown up. You're a big boy.

- That's what they say.|- l swear on my mother...

No mas. No more. No mas.

Roberto Duran.

Roberto, si.|Giant, no mas. No more. No mas.

l talked to Moe and Josh.|We're going to get our money.

- l'm working hard.|- Stay on top of that.

Look, why don't you|run this to Shadow's crib?

lt's a serious piece. l borrowed it.

He'll get it.

lt's about time.

Bleek borrowed this a year ago.|This is a rare, out-of-print Bird.

Just stand there, brother. Better not|be no scratches on here, either.

Lucky.

Tell your b*tch don't ask for nothing|if it takes a year to return it.

l don't want to hear that b*tch stuff.

Look, l'm a delivery man.|Any static, take it up with Bleek.

l'm spacing.

No, no, no, hold on.

- Er... l need your help.|- How long is it going to take?

Hey, no time.

- Should l change the sheets?|- They need changing.

No, see,|l was blending this honey in here.

So l don't want my lady to catch me.

- You smell perfume, man?|- Shadow, you've lost your mind.

No, do you smell perfume?

No.

Smell the sheets, man!

Smells all right to me.

l don't know why|l'm asking you anyway, man.

She has a highly developed|sense of smell.

She could sniff me out five miles away.

l think she must be|part canine and sh*t.

Yo, you know what?|She counts my rubbers, man.

- No.|- Yes.

The woman was an accountant major|in school.

So she takes an accurate account|of my jimmys.

Now l got to go buy a whole nother box|so she won't bust me again.

One time l rid around the city, man,

and l searched for a box|of 12 dozen blue Trojans, ribbed,

with the receptacle end, lubricated|with the garden-fresh scent.

Daggone girl knows everything.

Why bother?

Why bother?

Well, l like her, number one.

Number two... |she's a mother in bed.

- Mm-hm.|- Number three, the rest don't matter.

Three good reasons.

Roll over.

- Yes, baby.|- No, the other way.

Yes,... baby.

- Ow! Baby.|- That was a good one.

- Damn, that hurt.|- Be still.

All right. Be careful.

- How are your singing lessons?|- Good. l think l'm ready.

You think you're ready?

Ready to accompany the band|for a song at the Dog.

You think l'm not ready?

Wait, look, baby, erm...

just cos we're seeing each other|it's nothing to do with the music.

Now, l think that...

l think you got potential,|but it takes years, not months.

- Thanks for nothing.|- l'm not trying to be cruel.

lf we were married,|l'd say the same thing.

- Look...|- Ow!

l'm not asking you|or anybody else for any handouts.

Everybody needs a break.|l thought you might be the person.

Shoot me, l was wrong.|Pop your own bumps.

You know, a lot of people|say l'm a good singer.

Good. Go sing with them.

Forget you. l believe in myself.

You're supposed to believe in yourself.

- Shadow says l can sing.|- Oh, ''Shadow says l can sing.''

What else does Shadow say?

A-minor seventh.

A-minor seventh. That'll work.

Seventh.

B13# eleven.

No, that's not right.

- Does it tickle?|- Yeah.

- That's not right.|- Let me leave the artist at work alone.

The muse is visiting him.|Bleek is truly inspired.

Then he will share|his new, latest gift to the world.

Hallelujah.

Please, ladies and gentlemen,|boys and girls,

this is something|that came in last night.

- Shadow. Bottom.|- l had my hand on the panties.

On the panties.

Drums, drums. Jones.

''Pop, Top 40, R&B,|Urban Oontemporary,

Easy Listening, Funk Love.''

Damn, you for real?

This sh*t is out.

Now, hold up.|Let's talk about the money.

What about the money, Shadow?

What about the money?!

- We want more.|- You're the spokesperson for everyone?

Yeah.

Even for Left Hand, who's late again?

Look, the point of the matter is we've|been packing them in at the Dog, right?

Moe, Josh and Bleek|have been bringing in cash dollars.

- Where's our raise?|- You promised.

lt's long overdue.

- l'm talking to them.|- He's working on it.

hahaha!

Yeah, well,|maybe we need new management,

somebody who can get|the terms we want.

You need to get your ears cleaned.

You don't understand.|This is my band.

Read the marquee. lt says the Bleek,|two ''E''s, one ''K'', Quintet.

When you're running things,|you can do whatever you want.

lt won't be long from now.

lt won't be long, but until|that magical, mystical day happens,

you do what the hell l say.

The midget should go, Bleek.

Fine. You manage then.

That's not my job. You're supposed to be|taking care of me.

l'm the artist, midget rat bastard.

What does size have to do with it?

A lot.

You keep coming up short.

- Don't shove me.|- Keep coming up short.

Sorry l'm late.

One more time, you're about 2.2 seconds|from the unemployment line.

l'm sorry. l won't be late again.

A lot of piano players|want your gig, a lot.

Sorry. New tune.

lt's a nice title.

All right, let's walk through this.

Ladies and gentlemen,|boys and girls,

as l travel through this great big|country of ours, this US of A,

and being on the road as much as l do,|l listen to a lot of radio stations.

lt's amazing how many KlSS|or V103 stations there are.

Jesus Ohrist, did people|run out of call letters, or what?

Come on.

Anyway, most of the stuff|on the radio is so sad. lt's a drag.

One of the reasons could be|because every song is about...

Oh, you guessed it, huh? Love.

Love.

Love.

L-O-V-E.

What the world needs now...

is not another love song.

Now, dig. Oheck this out.

The love that's professed in these songs|is shaky anyway.

lt's a lustful, selfish,|end-of-the-world love.

And the lyrics...

Have you tried to listen to the lyrics?

You heard them all before.

My love ls hlgher|Flre and deslre

Let's stay together forever

Desplte all types of weather

Even a hurrlcane

ln fact,|l'd spend a wlnter ln Chl town

And you know that's cold

Aln't no mountaln hlgh enough|Aln't no rlver wlde enough

To keep me from gettln'|to your good stuff

You know lt's rough

Racist?

Giant's not a racist.

Giant ain't no racist.

What a dope|llke soap on a rope

l went for the okey doke|You know thls ls true

He blew L-O-V-E, try S-E-X

l'll be a happy chappy|Also nappy

l get the shlvers down to my llvers

Other guys just feed you lines,|but l take you to Mickey D's.

Baby, l'm on my knees|Please, baby, please

But thls aln't that song|lt's gettln'long

My nature ls rlsln' to the horlzon

lt's strong as an ox|Llke a Clorox box

You're a bad mama jama

But you already know that|Just polnt me ln the rlght dlrectlon

Only you glve me|that serlous connectlon

Get out of my dreams

Hey, midget. Petey's on the phone.

Thanks.

- l know. l know. l know.

l can read. l went to school.

lt came as a surprlse|You opened my eyes

Why? Because l love you

Let me spend|the rest of my llfe wlth you, tonlght

lf you don't, l'll just roll up|lnto a ball and just dle

- l know how you feel.|- Won't wash, won't eat

Won't even go to work|lf you don't love me do

l'll even glve up|my four season tlckets

To the New York Knlcks, courtslde

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