Wrong Cops Page #4

- Yeah, all right. Hockey sucks.

- Can't you get away from

your gay music for five minutes

and give me one?

Come on.

Let me in. Open up.

We-we can't do it here.

It's too dirty.

- Stop your bullshit.

Open up.

- What about my car?

- Anywhere.

In the trash room if you want.

- Sunshine speaking.

- Hi, sexy.

- Who is this?

- Guess.

- Mommy, is that you?

- You have a 14-year-old girl,

Sunshine, don't you?

- She's 13.

Who the f*** is this?

- Does your daughter know

that once upon a time

you did gay porn?

How much would you be willing

to cough up

so that she doesn't see her father

in a magazine

getting sodomized by convicts?

- Do you really think

you're gonna make it in music?

- Yeah. Why not?

- I don't know. You're a cop.

- So?

- It sucks.

Nobody wants to listen

to some cop's music, do they?

- Of course they do.

Hey, the game's over, honey.

- Hi.

Hey, darling.

Uh, was it good?

- Ah, it was not too bad.

Jimmy fell asleep.

He is so drunk.

- As usual.

Do you want me

to make you some coffee?

- Actually, we're out of beer.

- Okay. I'll go get you some.

Do you know Rough, our neighbor?

The cop?

- Oh!

Hi! Yeah!

Yeah, we bump into each other

sometimes.

How are you?

- Hi.

- You know, we hear you working

on your music.

The walls are so thin.

- I know. I'm sorry.

I'm gonna try to work with

headphones now.

- No, no, no, no. I don't mind.

I think it's quite good.

It's Ruth who can't stand it.

She said it's the worst music

she's ever heard.

Oh! That's it!

Yeah!

I think it's quite good.

You know, the groove is good.

Yeah. I don't know.

There may be just

a little something missing.

I don't know.

Oh, here's my favorite part.

- This is good.

This is good!

- Hi, Duke.

- God!

What the f*** are you doing here?

Jesus Christ!

Are you stupid?

You scared the life out of me!

- I wanted the element of surprise.

I need to talk to you.

- You couldn't do it like anyone else,

on the phone?

It would be easier, wouldn't it?

- No, because over the phone,

you can't threaten someone

with a knife.

You aren't seriously threatening me

with a kitchen knife, are you?

- Yeah, I could slit your throat

right open with this.

So don't f*** up.

- Oh, I see.

It's a joke, huh?

You joking piece of sh*t.

You want to steal my weed?

Is that it?

- No, I want to know

who you gave the information to!

Ugh!

- Give me that!

What information, for f***'s sake?

What are you talking about?

- About the money I found.

Who did you mention it to?

- I don't know.

I talked about it to everyone.

What's the problem?

- Really?

- Well, yeah.

Was I not supposed to?

- Oh, sh*t!

- What?

- Nothing, okay? Just-thanks a lot.

Next time, could you please

keep your mouth shut?

- Well, excuse me.

I must have missed something.

I don't understand

what your f***ing problem is.

- It doesn't matter!

Okay, bye!

- Honey.

I'm dropping Kevin off at school

in your car,

and then I'm coming right back,

okay?

- What are you doing in your mink?

Are you crazy?

- I was just a little cold, that's all.

Can I take your car or what?

- Oh, yeah. I don't care.

- Okay.

- You really look like

a high-class hooker in that.

- Kevin, let's go!

We're taking BilI's car.

Come on.

Get in.

- You sure

you got a rendezvous here?

- Yes, I'm sure.

Now stop talking.

You're stressing me out.

Do you want to blow everything?

- They're 16 minutes late.

They got to be amateurs.

- I don't care, okay? Just stick to the

plan.

A bullet in the head, and that's the end

of it.

Stay on the line, though.

It makes me feel less lonely.

It comforts me.

- Am I stressing you out, or am I

comforting you?

That's not quite the same.

- There's a car coming.

This is it. Stop talking.

- Okay, Kevin.

This is super easy,

and just super fun, okay?

You're gonna get out of the car,

and you're gonna walk over

to the bag

that that man

just put on the ground,

and then you're gonna put

the gay magazine on the ground,

and then you take the bag,

and you bring it back

to the car to Mommy, okay?

- Okay.

- Oh.

Don't shoot, Screw.

It's a kid.

Really young.

Abandon the plan.

- Man, that's the worst exchange

I've ever seen.

A kid? A magazine?

What the f***?

I was expecting

some dangerous guys here.

- Me too.

I didn't know

it was gonna be a kid.

- You're such a jerk.

You know,

I should have known.

Don't ask me again, Sunshine,

okay?

You're on your own with your sh*t.

- I'm sorry.

Okay, look-

- Ciao.

- I'm sorry.

- Come on.

Jesus f***ing Christ.

Okay.

I'm going to be honest

with you guys.

I love your style.

I think this marketing idea

is fantastic.

The-the black, one-eyed,

slightly monstrous cop

and the dying, apathetic guy.

That's spot-on.

That could be great for videos

and the press.

Now, that really works.

I love the idea of the funny costumes.

Very out there. I like that.

- What funny costumes?

What are you talking about?

- Let me finish.

- Okay, sorry. Go ahead.

- Marketing is 95% of the job.

You know, it's fantastic

that you're ready

to take it to that level.

It's pretty rare, even.

Your visual approach has huge potential.

I'm not denying that.

That-that could be really huge,

but to get there,

you're missing an important detail.

- Oh.

Uh, what's that?

- The remaining 5% : talent.

I'm sorry.

Your song is a huge pile of sh*t.

It won't go anywhere.

- No.

It's not sh*t.

I think you're wrong.

- Uh, I think I know my job.

I've been in the business

for 30 years.

I have rarely heard anything

that bad.

I mean, guys, you got

to get back into the studio.

Seriously. This song is bad.

Believe me.

- You can't trash the song

with your radical judgments.

I've been working like crazy

on this for two months.

- What does that mean?

Did you know Michael Jackson

recorded Thriller

in ten minutes?

- Oh, really?

I don't think so.

- Uh, I-I do think so.

I know the engineer

who worked on the recording.

I can get him on the phone

right now.

He'll confirm it. Ten minutes flat.

It's not the amount of time you spend

on it that matters.

It's talent.

All right, yeah, sure,

it's nice to have funny costumes

and spend two months on a song,

but without talent...

what's the point, guys?

- What costumes?

We're not wearing funny costumes.

I'm really a cop. That's my job.

This guy's really dying.

It's not an ad campaign.

We're not trying to be cool

or whatever.

We are for real.

- Okay. Mm-hmm.

Well, that's even worse

than I thought.

You've just lost the stylish 95% .

Sh*t, that-that-

Okay, that brings you down

to nothing.

What a waste of time.

Why didn't you warn me

earlier?

Come on.

Guys, wake up.

Nobody wants to buy music

from some one-eyed cop

and an apathetic piece of trash.

- Produce my song.

It's no worse than any other.

I know it's not the biggest hit

of the year,

but it is a good song.

Produce it.

Please.

You can keep the rights

to the song.

I don't care.

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