Mr. Right Page #3

It's gonna be fun.

Hey, check it out.

Houdini here is still alive.

Hey, Paco!

You having a rough night, buddy?

Huh?

What?

All right.

Okay, let's get him up.

Ready?

All right. You ready?

Yeah.

One, two, three.

- That's him?

- I like it.

- Yeah.

- I like it a lot.

How long you said

you've been trackin' him?

FBI's been on him for 10 years,

the CIA for 15.

I've been running point

for five.

Why don't we just

grab him right now?

Lock up the street

with snipers and SWAT?

You really want to

clean up that many bodies?

Yeah!

I'm in love.

- Are you kidding me? - I used to

make breakfast for you all the time.

Yeah, in a microwave.

That guy last night, he seemed

really, like, fancy homeless.

Oh, my god. I just realized

I don't know his name.

- Who, Mr. right? - We were together

for 10 hours. It never came up.

- You slept with him and don't know

his name? - I did not sleep with him.

We slept together.

We didn't have sex.

We cuddled.

It was adorable.

- Okay.

- I don't need a name for that.

But still,

he didn't tell you his name.

You're gonna just have to start

recognizing these red flags.

Why?

You think he's evil?

What if he is?

When I was little, I had this

fantasy I was dating Lex Luthor.

From superman?

Wasn't he, like, a genius?

Your guy's more like

a sexy rain man or something.

Thank you. But I don't really

think this is about him.

I think you're just

in an unstable time,

and maybe you're just

latching onto this guy

because, you know,

the first guy you meet...

- I think I'm in love with him.

Is that stupid? - Yes. Hard yes.

What is that?

I want support.

- I made you a pancake. You have to be

nice. - You're saying crazy things.

I think you may be having

an early midlife crisis.

That doesn't sound like me.

Hmm. Pretty good.

He just makes me feel...

I don't know.

Like you said, Mr. right.

Oh, my god.

- Can you fry whip cream?

- Why not?

Oh, what?

How come you're still alive?

What are you doing, hopper?

The company says you stopped checking in.

What's your big plan?

Well, I'm bringing him in.

What the hell?

He killed my whole f***ing team!

He's mine,

and I'm taking him out.

- Really?

- You have a better idea?

Always.

Literally, always.

I will always have

a better idea than you.

I know this guy.

I know his weak spot.

I trained him.

So for now, we wait.

Mmm.

Yeah, like pussies, huh?

Yeah, okay.

Like pussies.

We're in a big p*ssy parade.

Hey! I'm not in a p*ssy

parade, all right?

You watch

your f***in' mouth, hopper.

- It's the wife.

- I know what you mean.

- So what's the story on hopper?

- Who?

Ed hopper. His name keeps

coming up in the files.

He used to work

with our boy, right?

Some sort of master of disguise,

secret agent type dude.

- I didn't read the whole thing,

but... - of course you didn't.

But if you had, you'd know that hopper's

been missing almost 12 years now.

They worked together in the

ultra program at the CIA.

That went down in flames.

End of story.

Forget hopper. Let's focus

on one psycho at a time.

All right.

Hey, monster.

- Did you just call me "monster"?

- It's like a nickname.

- Like Marth, Marthster, monster,

that sort of thing. - Yeah, into it.

Worth noting that nicknames are supposed

to happen organically over time, but...

I can say it a thousand

times in 10 minutes.

Monster, monster, monster,

monster, monster, monster.

Monster, monster,

monster, monster...

Yeah, just Stockholm syndrome me.

I love that album.

It's better than Agatha.

Who's Agatha?

Oh, I think Agatha

is a swell middle name.

It is "swell." It is swell

'cause it's basically from 1935.

And Martha Agatha, it's just a

double menopause punch in the...

Oh. It's brutal.

Hey, you wanna do,

like, a role-play thing?

Where I'm an old lady?

Yeah, I could get into that.

We could get a Walker, a cane.

Actually,

it's my sort-of dream

to eventually be the old

lady in the neighborhood

that's like the crazy old

lady, like crazy old Martha,

and just have, like, messy white

hair and, like, ratty clothes,

and I just drive around all

day dead-eyeing teenagers.

- That's awesome.

- It's, like... it's my dream.

I can't wait

to be there for that.

Hey, are you hungry?

Excuse me, waiter?

Can I...

I'm sorry. I have to just go outside

for a second. I'm really sorry.

Hey, buddy, here's the thing.

I'm on a date, and I like this girl.

Can't we do this tomorrow?

I could kill you in a park, at the beach.

Rent a cozy hotel room?

I'd kill you there. We'll get a big

fruit plate, hang out, hold hands.

F*** you, b*tch.

Are we done?

Where the f*** you going, p*ssy?

I'm gonna kill you and your f***ing b*tch.

You heard me.

What?

You f***ing heard me.

- Come get some.

- Why'd you have to go and threaten her?

That's not a nice thing to say.

All right.

Give me a second.

Yeah, come on, Princess.

Let me know

when you're comfortable.

Let's go, b*tch!

- Hurts, don't it?

- Aaah!

Whoa.

Okay. F***ing guys.

- That guy's really homophobic.

- Get the f*** off me!

All right.

Have you had enough?

You could've gotten blood on me.

This is a nice girl.

I just...

I want it to go well.

I like this girl.

- Hey, did you have to finish

a book on tape? - No, sorry.

Had to kill somebody in the parking lot.

Some a**hole.

Yeah, he was a real d*ckhead.

Hey, you mind if I come around to your

side of the table? Oh, yeah. Sure.

Yep. Okay.

I love it.

Let's fly in the face of

traditional face-to-face dining.

Yeah. There's too much

real estate between us.

Anarchy.

I'm starving.

After killing that guy, you

must be exhausted. Right?

Let's get some food.

Okay.

I don't understand.

Why would anybody kill Paco

and dump his body

under a bridge?

Well, to get at us, Richie.

I mean, they're trying

to suss us out.

I think that it is this local

big dick, Hector Garcia.

Paco must have talked.

He probably let it slip that he was helping

to hide out big-money, up-north scaries.

F***.

- We have to tell dad.

- What?

We don't have to tell dad sh*t.

They're still cleaning blood

off the walls back at home, Von.

And might I remind you

that this was your f***ing mess?

I apologize.

- Yeah.

- I got an idea.

There's word on a guy. Big-time

hit man, wears a clown nose.

Maybe he takes care of the job for us.

Yeah. This.

I like this.

He makes a statement.

No. I'm not hiring some straight-off-the-boat

a**hole to fix our problems.

We're supposed to be lying low.

That's great. That's great.

That's a much better

f***ing plan.

We'll just stay locked up

like a bunch of f***ing rats

waiting for the FBI to knock

on our f***ing door!

Oh, that's great, Richie. Eight years

of therapy is working out beautifully.

One, two, three, four, five, six,

seven, eight, nine, 10. I apologize.

I like what Johnny's saying

because this guy,

he's a real international

contractor.

He's this Bruce Lee, James Bond

type of bad-ass motherf***er.

We get him

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