Supercon Page #4

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More of a mud wrestle.

Gil got involved.

It got ugly.

And he fired the three of us.

All three of you?

Where's Gil?

GIL:
Is it really that bad?

He's upset with me?

What kinda sh*t is that?

He's really upset that he...

Do you really wanna

be with him?

- (DOOR CLOSES)

- I mean, be honest.

You are living proof that

evolution works in reverse.

How you gonna

fix this, Gil, huh?

Come on. Shock me with

an intelligent answer.

- Blow my mind.

- I fired everybody's ass.

Ehh! Wrong.

That is YP, not MP.

- Your problem, not my problem.

- I got it.

See? Even she knows

what I'm talking about.

- Picture this.

- Aw, man!

Hundreds of sweaty,

obese single parents,

the walking f***ing dead

with their fat little fingers

holding illiterate

crayon signs saying,

"Supercon sucks."

No! Why? What?

Leave.

(SIGHS)

Can I have a hug?

(SCREAMS)

I just want a...

You usually hug me.

(SIGHS)

Oh, what fools

these mortals be...

Or not to be.

That is the question.

Shakespeare, baby.

I might have to ask you

for something very special.

Lucky me.

Yes.

- Uh, Gil.

- What do you want today?

It was all my fault, okay?

F***. Listen,

you can't fire my friends.

You gotta un-fire 'em.

I ain't got time

for your sh*t today, Wheeler.

Well, I'm telling you, man,

this sh*t's gonna come out

no matter

how you wanna play it.

Gil, listen, man, you can't

fire Allison, Brock, and Keith

for something I f***ing did.

Watch your tone.

It's my convention.

I'll do what the f***

I want with it.

But you got it all wrong, man.

Talking about

my friends, Gil.

- Yeah, yeah, your friends?

- My friends.

Really, yeah, whatever,

your friends.

Where... All the f***ing XLs

are gone? Sh*t.

Hello. How are you?

I'm Matt Wheeler.

It's lovely to meet you

and all your cash.

Wow!

Wow. Is this all the Con cash?

Stop touching sh*t,

all right?

- This is crazy.

- Hey, hey, hey, hey.

Your eyes, your eyes,

avert 'em, right here.

This cash that you see?

This is mine.

Your f***ing buddy last night

went and drew a big-ass cock

on Adam's car.

He assaulted him.

Keith couldn't assault

a freaking turtle, man.

- Yeah, yeah, right.

- If he did, it's 'cause King

was slapping his balls

time and time again.

I could've had your ass

arrested.

That's right,

but I didn't send you to jail.

- You could've got... What?

- Ten years.

But I did something

a little lighter for you.

You're fired.

(LAUGHING)

You're f***ing fired.

And you and your little

loser-ass friends

don't ever, ever come back

to Supercon again.

You're a f***ing idiot.

You're banned.

And you'll never work the

Southern cities like, uh...

- Dallas.

- Dallas.

- Houston.

- Houston. You love Houston.

- Dustin.

- Dustin.

- F***ing New Orleans.

- Baton Rouge.

Best seafood in the world.

Baton Rouge.

MATT:
You're just

throwing out cities.

The boot, b*tch.

You're an idiot.

You're banned.

For life.

You know, one of these days,

- all this sh*t, all of it...

- Yeah?

It's gonna catch up

with you.

Yeah?

And I'm gonna be right there

to see it.

(EVIL LAUGHTER)

(SCREAMS)

- (ZAPPING)

- (THUD)

KEITH:
Do you piss or sh*t

yourself when you get tased?

'Cause you f***ing

smell like both.

Speaking of which, I gotta

take the bus back home.

You ever been on

a f***ing Greyhound?

Mm-hmm.

Another round, Aaron.

The bartender. That's classy.

Even he has a better shot

than you.

Well, at least we all

got fired together.

What f***ing kills me

is that Gil's making

so much money off of everyone,

that he needs the cash machines

from Scarface to count it all.

- It's insane.

- Sh*t ain't right.

KEITH:
You can't win

if the game's rigged.

(VIDEO GAME MUSIC)

I got an idea.

(SQUEALS)

Oh, I hope that's not what

he sounds like when he comes.

Why are we meeting in here?

Because it's a gym

during a comic convention.

This room is safer

than the White House.

Yeah, but what are we

doing in here, Matt?

Hey, I'm not just gonna

blurt it out.

I'm gonna seduce you.

Things are gonna get moist

in here, my friends.

Very moist.

All right, well, spit on it

and put it in already,

for f***'s sakes.

(CLEARS THROAT)

(CHUCKLES)

Let's rob Supercon.

- The f*** did he just say?

- Excuse me?

I'm in.

What'd you give him

last night?

Oh, she gave me hope, baby.

We all know

Gil is the motherfucking

Tony Montana of Supercon.

Do you remember

what she said

about the stormtroopers

robbing Dragoncon?

- Yeah.

- We dress up,

we steal the stash,

and we walk out like

nothing every happened.

You wanna steal

everyone's payout money?

- You dick.

- No. That's the sexy part.

Allison, Gil pays out everyone

working the Con Sunday morning,

right before we all start

catching flights or buses home.

He pays out everyone,

except Adam King,

'cause his humongous panel is

Sunday 2 p.m., the last day.

So the only cash left

in the office will be...

- Gil's money.

- And King's money.

Bringo.

I'm in.

Yeah, but the cops will

catch us in a heartbeat.

You bet your flabby ass

they would,

but who's calling

the cops, man?

IRS will be all over him,

plus an audit would show that

he's been skimming off the top

all these years.

I'm in.

You're nuts.

(SLAMS BAG)

Talk to me.

I'm outta here.

Enjoy your heist there,

Danny Ocean.

- Where you going, little lady?

- I got a bus to catch.

Your idea f***ing sucks,

and my ass isn't that flabby.

You didn't even hear the plan,

Casey Affleck.

I heard enough,

and Casey Affleck

is easily the better Affleck.

Later, fuckface.

Go get him. Go get him.

Don't move.

Keith, wait up, you big puss.

At least hear

the plan first, Keith.

You did enough, man,

all right?

You just got me fired from my

only f***ing source of income,

and now you want me to go to prison,

for five to ten years? F*** that.

I needed the f***ing money

from this weekend.

Look, your share of the money

from this plan,

you're gonna be a very wealthy

terrorist, my friend.

I don't know if you know this,

but you're a white guy.

You have all the opportunities

in the world in Hollywood.

I don't have sh*t.

You could be a leading man.

You could be a f***ing

supporting role.

You can be a Japanese woman

if you needed to be.

I was a series regular

for five years

on f***ing Tex Johnson,

and my parents took

every dime I made.

These conventions are the only

thing that give me any money,

and thanks to you, I don't

even have that anymore.

I haven't worked

in over a f***ing year,

and I just lost my agent.

Why?

'Cause she's

a f***ing a**hole.

She keeps wanting me

to go out for these auditions

for Terrorist Number One

and f***ing Cab Driver

and 7-Eleven

and Call Center.

Well, with your share

of the money,

you can buy a 7-Eleven.

I don't need

a f***ing 7-Eleven!

I'm not going to jail 'cause

I'll be a f***ing candy bar.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

I'm sorry that every

acting job you go out for

is for some racist sh*t.

But you can't just walk away.

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