The Do-Over Page #3

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I think you said it all, baby.

I think you said it all.

Charlie McMillan and I went

to school together our entire lives.

The first time I actually noticed him...

was when he turned up at the firehouse

to ask for my ex-wife's hand in marriage.

Now, I didn't know whether to hit him...

or hug him!

Predictable.

Reliable.

Dependable!

I'm not just talking about my Ford F-150.

Talkin' about Charlie McMillan,

who I know for a fact,

would want us to wrap this up

so we can get home and watch

the Dolphins game.

Am I right?

Five and two this season.

Can I get a "Go Fish"?

Let's go win this one for Charlie!

Come on, honey.

- Aw.

- This is for you.

Thank you.

Thanks, I appreciate it.

Jesus.

Touchdown, Dolphins!

Yeah!

And that

was the moment I realized

I was glad Charlie McMillan was dead.

My dry-cleaner showed up?

Did not see that coming.

I love that guy.

Why don't you go down there

and freak him out?

Didn't expect to see you so quick.

You think I'd miss my killer's funeral?

There it is.

He's back.

- Can I take a look?

- Go ahead.

Who's this guy in the suit?

Is that George Michael?

I have no idea.

And what's this?

Is that your crazy ex-girlfriend?

Is she here, too?

What is she doing?

Come on.

Cut that sh*t.

Hey, buddy.

You know you didn't really die.

Why are you getting so worked up?

Oh.

Got a little too real for me for a minute.

All right, well, this is it.

So, what now, Butch Ryder?

You got me.

Well, we're free men.

We can do

whatever the f*** we want now.

Actually, I stumbled upon something

that might be worth investigating.

- Okay.

- See this key?

- Yeah.

- Pick it up.

Smell it.

Mmm.

Smells like sh*t.

'Cause I found it up Butch Ryder's ass.

Why would you be digging up

some dead guy's ass?

You'd be surprised how many people

hide stuff up their ass.

Important stuff.

Pick it up, one more time.

Here.

Just, uh... What do you think?

What could that open up?

This is a level 5-A security key.

How f***ing smart are you?

Based on the tooth pattern,

I'd say it's foreign.

Number suggests a Latin country.

And the fact that it was

up some dead guy's butt...

I would say it's a safety deposit box key.

Charlie! How the f*** did you do that?

Could we find it?

May I?

As a manager of a bank,

I have access to a federal database.

Should be able to provide a match.

Let's go, baby.

What?

Oh, man.

Oh, man, this is it.

That looks nice.

Banco Nacional de Puerto Rico.

Okay. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Oh, no. They might have a

biometric identification process.

That means we need fingerprints.

Wish you would have told me that

before I blew up the bodies.

I would have saved the hands.

Well, hopefully, they have what's known as

a "document-based identification process."

Just let me charm

the f***ing skirt off this seorita.

It's nice to be back.

Assuming I've been here before...

which I would know, obviously.

Have we met?

No, I don't believe we have.

Right, 'cause you got

a very forgettable face.

You want people to remember you,

maybe get a personality, right?

You're not one of the Mario brothers,

are you?

Hey, since his ID is in order,

we'd like to be taken

to the safety deposit room immediately

and be given privacy,

which is our right

under the Banking Act of 1938.

Of course.

Oh, it fits.

- Sh*t.

- Oh... it's a big one.

- God!

- A little heavy for ya?

Um, I got it.

Whoa!

I always wanted one of these.

A tablet! Dibs!

Look at this!

All this money!

Dibs! Dibs! On the money!

Max, there's gotta be like a

million bucks in here! You're rich!

That's great!

Oh, and this.

What's this?

There's a note.

"Butch, here are the keys

to your secret hideaway,

where I know you'll find

the peace and quiet you're looking for.

I hope you enjoy many happy,

healthy years here.

You deserve it, you sexy bastard.

Love... Dakota."

Ooh, Dakota sounds hot.

Yeah. There's the key!

And it doesn't smell like sh*t.

I hope it has a good view!

- Ah!

- Jesus.

What?

Who lived here, Bill Gates?

Huge TV, definitely not my Zenith.

Full bar!

Oh, dude.

Puerto Rico!

There's, like, five houses in this house.

Another pool!

Place is gorgeous!

We're gonna have the best time here, bud.

Yeah!

- Don't tell me you hid more bodies?

- No.

I got dibs on the master suite.

- I got dibs on the Ferrari!

- Oh...

You dick.

Yeah. That's it?

No... Hey!

- Hey!

- Hey!

Hi, I wanted, real quick...

Just one second, if I could.

I'm Dr. Ronald P. Fishman.

Hola, everybody.

I'm an Aquarius and I have a red Ferrari

and I'm pretty sure I'm Jewish.

I moved here, just down the road,

into a massive beachfront mansion.

I just wanna tell you

that I'm gonna be getting drunk here

every night for the rest of my life.

The good news is, I'm buying your drinks

for the rest of your lives!

I just...

- Will you do... Yeah.

- I'll do it, I'll do it.

And play "Who Let The Dogs Out."

Who let the...

Are you out of your f***ing mind, man?

What are you bringing

so much attention to us for?

No, I said I was Dr. Ronald Fishman.

And I'm the legendary Butch Ryder.

But don't you think maybe somebody here

might know those guys for real?

We don't even look like 'em.

What do they look like?

Oh, sh*t.

Oh, my God!

Oh, he's got tattoos.

You have to get

those exact same tattoos as Butch.

I do, do I?

If Dr. Fishman has tattoos,

I'd go get 'em.

He didn't have a tattoo,

but there's somethin' else that he had.

Oh, yeah! I'll get an earring,

I don't care.

You don't put this in your ear.

Where does it go?

Kickin' ass

and takin' names, baby!

Yeah!

Hmm...

Hmm... hmm...

No!

Want a Popsicle?

Do we have any cherry ones left?

Yeah, one more.

- Yes.

- Proud of you, man.

You earned my respect last night.

You're a tough guy.

You know, I wish

I did invent time travel.

- Uh-huh.

- 'Cause I would go back to last night

and not put a hole in my tongue!

Jeez...

How many weird apps are here?

Jenga.

Why are you still

messing with that?

Yeah, you're a computer genius.

You think there's any place

they could have hid something on here?

You know, like, behind a firewall

or some sh*t?

It's not a computer.

It's a tablet.

There is no firewall. What's on there

that's hidden you need to find?

Some amateur porn?

Maybe Butch f***in' Dakota?

If I'm gonna be Butch,

I gotta know all his moves.

Does he slap ass?

Is he a nipple flicker? Or...

does he whip out the dildo

and go to town with that?

Oh, that sounds like a party.

Hi, I hope I'm not intruding.

I'm Dawn DeFazio.

I'm your next door neighbor.

Oh, hey, Dawn.

I'm Butch Ryder.

This is my best friend, uh,

Dr. Ronald P. Fishman.

The P stands for "p*ssy pounder."

It's great to finally meet you.

I was starting to think

you were never gonna move in.

Yeah, the movers were here

about a month ago,

but they were so hush-hush

about who was movin' in here.

Like it was the president

or George Clooney or somethin'.

Ah, that's interesting.

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