The Pink Panther 2 Page #3

And then the pencil rolls around

and she bends again,

and her undulating buttocks

cause the short skirt to rise

revealing other nooks and crannies. Then you f*** her and she gives you a blowj*b

I like you, Mrs. Berenger. I like you a lot.

So, I have made lunch reservations

at four different restaurants,

depending on who wants to eat where.

You know,

I cannot decide what is more beautiful.

Paris or you.

May I have a word in private?

I'm worried that your hot Italian blood

might be leading you into an indiscretion.

Really?

Yes, these attentions

you're paying to Nicole.

What?

I see. You and she, you like the...

Oh, no, no, no.

She and I are co-workers, nothing more.

So I'm not stepping on toes.

How could you, since she and I have

absolutely no feelings for one another.

Good, because I find her very alluring.

No. No. For a man like you, she's too drab.

- Drab?

- And she is disgusting.

- Disgusting?

- Yeah, she's drab and disgusting.

I think you are wrong, Clouseau.

You see, you and I,

we are men of the world, no?

We've had all these

sexy and glamorous women, right?

Yes, in fact, I believe

you've made a conquest of your own

in Miss Solandres.

Clouseau, you are a lover.

And Nicole is a woman for a lifetime,

a woman to have the babies with.

- To have the babies?

- Yes, lots and lots of the babies.

All day long the babies.

All day long the babies?

Ponton.

That Italian and I have locked antlers.

We are like two angry stags

pawing at the ground.

Have we decided on lunch?

Well, I suppose you will be wanting sushi,

my little yellow friend?

What?

Inspector, we never refer to Japanese

people as "our little yellow friends."

- But why?

- Because it is a stereotype.

Inspector, are you prejudiced

against Asians?

Well, of course not.

Except when they drive.

Have you ever seen them drive?

They can hardly see over

the steering wheel.

- Inspector.

- Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Berenger.

I suppose I'm a bit of a dumb blonde

about this.

- What?

- You must never refer to blondes that way.

- But they are so dumb.

- Oh, my God.

Were you just ogling her?

- No.

- Yes, you were.

I did not.

- You did.

- I did not.

- You did it again.

- No, I didn't.

- Yes, you did. I saw it.

- I did not.

- No, you didn't.

- You did it.

- You did it again!

- No, I didn't.

- Yes, you did.

- I did not.

- Yes, you did.

- Oh, my God, look!

Oh, my God...

Ponton?

I had it out with my wife.

I told her that she must not

question me about my work,

and that my home life must take

second place to my career.

Good for you. Congratulations!

You are now a real man.

So, then, can I stay here with you?

- What?

- May I stay here? I got kicked out.

- Yes, I suppose. Temporarily.

- Thank you.

It's okay, boys.

What are these?

Ponton?

They are my sons, Louis and Antoine.

They took my side of the argument.

And this is Jacques.

They named him after you.

They idolize you.

Uncle Jacques, what's that?

That is an award given to me

by the President of France.

Go ahead.

- Is that the Pink Panther?

- No, it's a replica.

A copy given to me

for recovering the real diamond

and returning it to France.

Let's show Uncle Jacques what we won.

We won these in a competition

in karate school.

That is so cute.

Now, let me show you a real trophy.

One I won at a karate competition

just recently.

Wow!

- You like karate?

- We love it.

Remember, boys.

The secret to a successful karate attack

is the element of surprise.

- Good one.

- Thank you.

To find the Tornado,

we must consider his motives.

I'm worried that right now,

the thief is trying to sell the goods.

Right.

"Hey, buddy, do you want to buy

the Shroud of Turin?"

No. These items are too famous to be sold.

Only the Pink Panther can be cut up

and sold as smaller gems.

I suspect that's what he wants.

I have something.

This says the computer that hacked into

the museum is located in Rome.

- Rome?

- Yes. Is something wrong?

No. No. Rome means nothing to me.

I mean...

Rome? Do you know who lives in Rome?

- Alonso Avellaneda!

- The black market art dealer.

The man rumored to be

the Tornado's fence.

There's always been a suspicion

that Avellaneda's not just the Tornado's

fence, but the Tornado himself.

He is the right age.

Do we have a sample of his DNA?

Not yet, but we should be in Rome

in one hour.

Where is our pilot?

I don't trust any other pilot

for my plane but myself.

Your plane.

Nicoletta,

would you like to be my co-pilot?

- Come.

- Okay.

- Would I be disturbing you if I joined you?

- No, no. Please disturb me.

I've been thinking a lot

about what you said outside the museum,

about the psychology of the criminal.

The "why?"

Perhaps romantic disappointment.

A foolish young woman

who leaves a man for a younger man.

That could never happen.

But of course.

What a man such as that should do

is start a new romance

with someone more appreciative.

That is so funny. "Start a new romance."

I'm not quite sure what you mean,

but that is funny.

It appears that Inspector Clouseau

does not find Miss Solandres drab.

"Drab"?

The very word

that he used to describe you.

- He called me drab?

- And disgusting.

Disgusting?

Thank you.

Hey, Ponton.

Tell me more about Inspector Clouseau.

He's a brilliant man, unorthodox, oblique.

But I can tell you

with absolute confidence,

he's the man who will solve this case.

Ponton-san, you are crazy.

If Clouseau solves this case,

I am perfectly willing to run around

like a bare-bummed idiot

wearing nothing but a tutu.

Well, let's talk about Avellaneda.

- What are his proclivities?

- He's an art connoisseur,

but because of his questionable dealings,

he was thrown out of Spain

and must live here.

You see?

He has squandered his reputation,

and he is forced to live in the woods

like an animal

with the shame of being a criminal.

If there is one absolute truth in this world,

it is that crime does not pay.

You say the bullet hole is

behind his right shoulder?

Yes.

Then all we have to do is figure out a way

to get him to remove his shirt.

I was half expecting you.

Are you the so-called "Dream Team"?

And who is it

who is inquiring of us who we are?

I am Alonso Avellaneda.

Is this more of that Tornado nonsense?

We shall see who is the one

who will be saying nonsensical things

that are something of nonsense.

Well, I suppose I must bow

to the inevitable.

Please, come inside.

I'll join you in a moment.

Nicole.

While the Dream Team plays its

little games, I am going to snoop around.

Who cares?

So, gentlemen and ladies,

please make yourselves at home.

Now, how can I help you?

Seor Avellaneda,

where were you last Friday evening?

Dining with my daughter and my ex-wife.

Don't believe me, call them.

Why call them?

They already lied for you

on the stand 10 years ago.

I am not the Tornado.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes