The Boondocks, Season 1

Huey:
(narrating) I am not a prophet, but sometimes I have prophetic dreams, like the one where I was at a garden party.

Huey:
Excuse me. Everyone, I have a brief announcement to make. Jesus was black, Ronald Reagan was the Devil, and the government is lying about 9/11. Thank you for your time and good night.

(The people suddenly erupt into a riot. Huey wakes up, and is immediately smacked by Granddad.)

Granddad:
Mmm-hmm! You were havin' that dream where you made the white people riot, weren't you?

Huey:
But I was telling the truth!

Granddad:
How many times have I told you, you better not even dream about tellin' white folk the truth! You understand me? (walks away) Shoot! Makin' White people riot! You better learn how to lie like me! I'm gonna find me a white man and lie to him right now!

Grandad:
(To Wuncler III) Uh, so I understand you just got back from Iraq?

Riley:
For real? Yo, what's it like?

Wuncler III:
What's it like?! What am I supposed to say to that? It was cool, there was bitches. Okay they was bitches but a lot of them had, ya know, they was cova'ed up in them curtains and stuff they be wearin'. But, I digress. It was WAR. It was war, basically. War, you know what that's like? Motherfuckers be like shooting (imitating a machine gun) Gah-geh-ga-ga-ge-gu-ga-gow! Bombs blowin' up. An' ya know, the shit scared me. It scared the shit outta me. Matter o' fact, I shit on myself over a dozen times. And ran out of toilet paper after the second time. So you know what that meant, right? I had to use the thumb, man, it was kinda nasty. But ya know, the good thing about it was they stopped taking me out on patrol cause my name became "Stink Bomb," you know wha' I'm saying? They said I was giving away our position, because of the shit smell. That was fine with me, know wha' I'm saying? They wanted to leave me back? And I was like, "Well fuck y'all. Y'all go ahead long, cause I don't need y'all anyway. I'm rich, bitch." (notices everyone is staring blankly at him) The fuck y'all looking at?

Uncle Ruckus:
(singing badly) Don't trust them new niggers over there! Leavin' their nigger essence in the air! Them happy, nappy-head niggers, with their fingers on the trigger! Don't trust them new niggers over there! Don't trust them big nostrils over yonder! They suck up so much air, it'll make you wonder! Don't trust them new niggers, with they spiny little nigger fingers! Don't trust them new niggers over there!

Tom:
[about the R. Kelly sex tape] Riley, she was a little girl.

Riley:
Oh, I saw that girl. She wasn't little. I'm little. Gary Coleman's little. Mini-Me is little. And to the best of my knowledge, we all managed to avoid gettin' peed on so far!

Tom:
But what about the victim?

Riley:
Oh yes! The victim. At what point does personal responsibility become a factor in this equation? I see piss comin', I run. She saw piss comin', she stayed. And why should I miss out on the next R. Kelly album just fo' that? [walks away]

Huey:
Man, you just got beat by an eight-year old.

Riley:
[from afar] And, if R. Kelly goes to jail, I'll piss on yo' cat!

R. Kelly's Lawyer:
(making an opening statement) The ancient Greeks, the architects of western civilization, would regularly indulge in sexual activities with children. Were they perverts? In Puritan America, the forefathers of this great land would take wives who were 12 or 13 years old, much younger than the alleged victim. Were they sickos? In Tokyo, you could buy teenage girls' panties in vending machines. Do we call them disgusting? Of course not! What do all those things have to do with Robert Kelly? Nothing. Let's get to the point. Now some people see this so-called mountain of evidence — these video tapes, photographs, eyewitnesses, and DNA — and see a guilty man, but some of us can see that mountain of so-called evidence for what it really is: racism.

(After R. Kelly is acquitted on all charges and a celebration ensues.)

Huey:
What the hell is wrong with you people? Every famous nigga that gets arrested is not Nelson Mandela! Yes, the government conspires to put a lot of innocent black men in jail on fallacious charges. But R. Kelly is not one of those men! We all know the nigga can sing, but what happened to standards? What happened to bare minimums? Are you a fan of R. Kelly? You wanna help R. Kelly? Get some counselling for R. Kelly! Introduce him to some older women! Hide his camcorder! But don't pretend that the man is a hero!... And stop the damn dancing! Act like you've got some goddamn sense, people! Damn! I'm through playin' around here!

Huey:
Granddad, have you asked yourself why a 20-year-old girl would want to go out with a man your age?

Granddad:
Because I laid my game down quite flat.

Riley:
Game? What you know about the game Granddad?

Granddad:
I know the game.

Riley:
Takin' women out to eat? Givin' 'em free meals? What part of the game is that? You takin' her to Red Lobster with the cheddar biscuits. The fam ain't eatin' cheddar biscuits, but this random broad is eatin' cheddar biscuits.

Granddad:
(turns away from the mirror) I know the game. Your grandaddy knows the game.

Riley:
Game recognize game, Granddad.

Granddad:
(gets in Riley's face) I recognize game. Your granddaddy recognize game.

Riley:
Game recognize game, and you lookin' kinda unfamiliar right now. I... I can't... where's Granddad? Can I help you sir?

Granddad:
(stares at Riley for a while) I ain't got time to mess around with y'all. I gotta date. Get out the way. (he walks off screen)

Riley:
(follows him off screen) Don't do it Granddad! Don't feed her!

Granddad:
(O.S.) Come on, now, stop. Get off my leg.

Riley:
(weeping O.S.) Don't feed her the cheddar biscuits! Noooo!

Granddad:
(O.S.) Don't try to hold me back. What the hell? Get off me, boy. What's wrong with you?

Cristal:
(playing PS2 with Riley) What's up now?

Riley:
Why you keep doin' the same move?

Cristal:
Where yo game at? Where yo game at?

Riley:
My 'X' button ain't workin.

Cristal:
Whatever, nigga.

Riley:
Hey, look! I'm pressin' it! You SEE me pressin' it! You cheat!

Cristal:
Bitch, your game is garbage. (she jumps up in the air) I'm Cristal, bitch! Who's next?

Riley:
Fake ass Mariah Carey! (he throws the controller and runs away crying)

Cristal:
That's how nasty my game is, son. (to Huey) I send niggas runnin' away.

Huey:
(stares at her)

Cristal:
What?

Huey:
Granddad, that woman has got to go.

Granddad:
Miss Cristal is my beautiful baby boo, and you will show her some respect.

Huey:
Granddad, we don't know anything about Ms. Cristal. I mean, we know she spends all your money, we know she eats more than a black hole...

Riley:
WE KNOW SHE CHEAT AT PLAYSTATION!

Huey:
But where does she live? What does she do for a living?

Granddad:
She's in sales.

Riley:
Pff... Ho sales...

Granddad:
What?!

Huey:
Okay, Cristal. We need to have a talk.

Cristal:
Before you start, I just want to say how much fun it's been hanging out with you guys. Think of me as a big sister you always wanted.

Huey:
Don't take this the wrong way, but... I need you get the hell up out of here.

Cristal:
Any particular reason?

Huey:
You're kind of a lazy ho?

Cristal:
Yeah, I can see that.

Huey:
I don't know why my granddad can't see.

Cristal:
To be honest, me either. It's so obvious. But it's okay, because I'm in a transitional period...

Huey:
[interrupting] Ah-ah-ah! I don't care. You gotta go.

Cristal:
[takes out a cigarette and lights it] I can't do that.

Huey:
I'm sorry?

Cristal:
You guys have the life. And I want to have the life, too.

Huey:
Yeah, but it's our life. We're his family.

Cristal:
Oh, so now we get to what this is really about! I'm not one of y'all, I'm not in the family, I don't carry his genes... so, I have to go?

Huey:
Uh, yeah. Plus, you're a lazy ho.

Cristal:
"Ho" is a strong term. Right now, I'm somewhere between "anatomical sales associate" and "high maintenance girlfriend." Can't you be positive about my growth?

Huey:
Cristal, every part of you bein' here is unacceptable. Do you realize I'm doing prostitute laundry? Do you have any idea HOW DISGUSTING THAT IS?!

Cristal:
[puts out cigarette] Look, this is an adjustment for everyone. But it's what your grandfather wants. You can't get rid of me. I can do things to persuade your granddad that you can't do.

Huey:
Like what? [thinks for a second] Never mind, I don't want to know.

Riley:
(answering doorbell) It's a nigga in a purple suit!

(Cristal hides as Robert walks to the door)

Robert:
Who are you?

A Pimp Named Slickback:
My name is A Pimp Named Slickback, and I believe I may have misplaced some merchandise at this residence. There she is. (to Cristal) Bitch I hope you got the moneys to cover this little vacation you've been takin'.

Robert:
Now hold up, Slickback.

A Pimp Named Slickback:
No, that's "A Pimp Named Slickback."

Robert:
That's what I said - "Slickback."

A Pimp Named Slickback:
No no!, It's "A Pimp Named Slickback," like A Tribe Called Quest, you say the whole thing: "A Pimp Named Slickback"!

Robert:
Can we call you "Slickback" for short?

A Pimp Named Slickback:
No, nigga! I'm "A Pimp Named Slickback!"

Robert:
Cristal, who is this person?

A Pimp Named Slickback:
NIGGA ARE YOU DEAF? I'm "A Pimp Named Slickback"! Say it with me now!

Cristal:
He's my pimp!

Robert:
Y-y-your pimp? So you really are a, a-

Cristal/Huey/Riley:
Yes, I'm/she's a ho!

A Pimp Named Slickback:
C'mon bitch, now!

Cristal:
A Pimp Named Slickback, can at least have a minute?

A Pimp Named Slickback:
A minute?! (short chuckle in disbelief) Let us pray the pimp's prayer. (church organ playing) Lord, please pray for the soul of this bitch and guide my pimp hand and make it strooong Lord! So that she might learn a ho's place. Amen!

Riley:
Amen! Yeah!

(A Pimp Named Slickback then draws his hand back to strike her, but Granddad's belt lashes out and catches his wrist.)

Robert:
You ain't gonna hit no woman in my house!

A Pimp Named Slickback:
What woman, sir? This here's a ho!

Robert:
Not in this house, she's not!

[A Pimp Named Slickback looks at Robert in disbelief, then walks out]

A Pimp Named Slickback:
Fine! Bitch, you got 45 seconds, then I'm leaving! [holds up a hand, counting off] Forty-four, forty-three...

(Two young black men bump into each other walking down the street)

Guy 1:
Watch where you walkin' nigga.

Guy 2:
Ey, what you say, nigga?

Huey:
(Narrating) Watch closely. You're about to experience a "nigga moment." Webster defines the "nigga moment" as a moment where ignorance overwhelms the mind of an otherwise logical negro male...

(The men pull out guns and point them at each other)

Guy 1:
What did you say, bitch nigga?

Guy 2:
Hey squeeze it, nigga!

Huey:
...Causing them to act in an illogical, self-destructive manner. I.E., like a nigga.

(The two men continue shouting at each other, then shoot at each other, missing every shot despite being right next to each other)

Huey:
Nigga moments are unpredictable...

Guy 2:
Hey wait man, wait! This is stupid!

Guy 1:
Hey you right, dog. Look, let's put the guns away and go on about our business.

Policeman:
Freeze!

(Police officers shoot both men down)

Huey:
...but they all end up bad. If they had their own category, nigga moments would be the third leading killer of black men behind pork chops and F.E.M.A.. It's a fact. Now let's see how a nigga moment affects a white man.

(One of the black men from the first example bumps into a white man)

White Guy:
Prick.

Black Guy:
Watch where you walking, bitch!

White Guy:
What did you…wait a minute…haha, I'm white, hahahahaha! (he walks away)

Black Guy:
Where you going!? Don't you ignore me! This is a perfectly good moment to throw your life away!

Huey:
A big misconception about the "nigga moment" is that it can be avoided by simply movin' away from niggas. If only it were that easy; see, niggas always got a new trick right around the corner.

Stinkmeaner:
Who in the hell park at my space? That's like calling 1-800-collecting-ass-whuppin! And no, that ain't a toll free car, partner!

Granddad:
You hit my car, are you blind?

Stinkmeaner:
YES I AM! SO!

Granddad:
Wait, you're blind?

Stinkmeaner:
YES! BLIND! You got a problem with dat, nigga?

Huey:
You could have kill somebody!

Stinkmeaner:
Well I been doing them a favor. Getting run over by me is close to honorable death as most of these people going get! Someday, I quite the humanitarian. I think I hit a wheelchair away over there. He-he!

Granddad:
Aw, look what you did to Dorthey? You better have insurance?

Stinkmeaner:
NIGGA, You better have insurance? Ass whupping insurance, you about to pay a depletable?

On the awkward car trip home, the song of "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor (band) is playing on the radio.

Radio:
It's The Eye Of The Tiger / It's the thrill of The Fight! / Standing up to the challenge of your rival!

(Granddad switches off the radio)

Granddad:
(sourly) I hate this damn song.

Riley:
I can't believe you got your ass kicked by a blind man, Granddad!

Granddad:
My knee went out. You know I got a bad knee.

Riley:
Bad knee?! That nigga had bad eyes! He couldn't see, Granddad! He beat you like a piñata! (to Huey) Yo, we should rent Granddad out for Mexican birthday parties! We can call him "Sr. Piñata"! Hola, Sr. Piñata!

Granddad:
Stop it, boy, stop it! Where's my belt!?

Riley:
I must be blind too, cuz I sho' didn't see that ass-whuppin' comin'!

Granddad:
Boy...

Huey:
Riley...!

Riley:
Yo, how bad you gotta telegraph yo' punches for a blind nigga to see 'em comin', Granddad?!

Huey:
Riley, the man obviously had a heightened sense of hearing!

Riley:
Oh, I thought Granddad had a heightened sense of falling!

Granddad:
Now, that's enough! Now, you just stop laughin' at your Granddaddy! What's wrong with you?

Riley:
Granddad had "HIT ME" written on his forehead in braille!

Granddad:
I said... That's. Enough.

Riley:
Okay, What you gonna do? Beat me? Maybe I should get a blindfold first; (Riley covers his eyes with his hands) Okay, I'm ready! Wait-maybe he's gonna fall on me! (Riley gets on his knees and uses his left arm to cover his eyes and his right is pointed up at Granddad to push him off if he falls on him and Riley laughs)

Huey:
Riley, stop!

Riley:
(on the floor now, cringing from laughter) Granddad, Rodney King just called and said, "Damn! I thought I got my ass whupped!" (Riley laughs uncontrollably until Huey kicks him and Granddad walks off in shame)

Riley:
Dang, Grandad, you didn't have to kill him!

(Tom has a nightmare where he drops the soap in prison)

"Health Inspector":
Soap drop, nigga.

(Tom gasps)

"Health Inspector":
Oh, you think you just gon' leave it down there?

Tom:
N-no...

"Health Inspector":
Huh? We don't waste no muthafuckin' soap in here.

Tom:
I'm... I'm finished!

"Health Inspector":
Naw. Naw, nigga. You ain't finish. I been watchin' you.

Tom:
You have?

"Health Inspector":
You ain't wash behind your ears or nothin'.

Tom:
But I did...

"Health Inspector":
Now look at me. See how I'm all clean an' glistenin' an' shit? Dat's hygiene, nigga. You can call me the Health Inspector. Now PICK UP THE SOAP!

Offscreen Inmates:
Pray, baby. Pray!... I'm next!

White House Spokesman:
And so, we're raising the Terror Alert Level to intense orange-red based on very credible, detailed information on a non-specific threat. Could it be a hijacking? Absolutely possible. Chemical or biological agent? You bet it could happen. Suicide bomber? Hey, ya never know. But what we do know is that it's absolutely, positively gonna happen today, maybe.

Jazmine:
(hysterical) Terrorists have my daddy!

Huey:
Jazmine, calm down!

Jazmine:
Terrorists kidnapped my father and they're going to cut off his head in Algeria! My daddy was supposed to be home from work before school let out and he isn't here. And we're at terror alert level orange! Orange!!

Huey:
Jazmine, just because your dad is late coming home from work doesn't mean that...

(Phone rings)

Riley:
(answers the phone) Hello?

Tom:
(frantic) Riley. Is that you? Put your brother on, it's an emergency.

Riley:
What's the emergency?

Tom:
I'm in jail.

(slight pause, Riley starts to laugh)

Riley:
Don't drop the soap. (hangs up)

Huey:
Who was that?

Riley:
(the phone rings, and he answers it again) Yeah?

Tom:
RILEY. It's Tom.

Riley:
I thought you only get one phone call from jail.

(Huey grabs the phone)

Huey:
Who's this?

Tom:
Huey! I got arrested! They say I fit the description. I think it's 'cause I'm black Huey! You have to get me out of here Huey. You don't wanna know what they'll do to me in jail.

Huey:
They'll rape you, that's what they're gonna do. But you're not in jail, you're in holding, and I don't think people usually get raped in holding; hold on. (yelling) Granddad, do people get raped in holding?

(Jazmine starts to cry)

Tom:
Stop stop stop! I don't want your granddad to know. I don't want anybody to know. Listen. They can't keep people in holding over the weekend. At nine o'clock tonight, they're going to put me on a bus and send me to real jail. Real! Jail! Earliest I can get out would be on Monday.

Huey:
Well it's just the weekend.

Tom:
It only takes one night to get anally raped! Huey, the only way for me to get out of here is if you find the real killer tonight.

Huey:
The real killer?! Nigga, I'm 10! How am I gonna find the real killer?

Tom:
Please! You gotta try...

Huey:
Alright alright alright. Damn.

Tom:
Thank yooou Huuey. Whatever you do, don't tell my baby Jazmine. I don't want her to know her daddy was somebody's biiittcch! (he starts weeping)

Jazmine:
Was that Daddy? Where is he? Is he okay? Was he kidnapped by terrorists?

Huey:
Umm... your father wants you to know he's nobodys' bitch.

Jazmine:
(starts to cry again)

Riley:
So y'all was in Iraq together?

Gin Rummy:
Yeah we was in Iraq.

Riley:
What did you do?

Gin Rummy:
We was looking for weapons of mass destruction.

Riley:
....Did you ever find them?

Gin Rummy:
You know goddamn well we ain't find 'em. What are you some kinda POLITICAL HUMORIST?! You GARRY TRUDEAU up in dis bitch?!?!

Ed III:
I was lookin' for bitches but they had that carpet shit all over them and I couldn't see what they look like. All that was really exposed was the eyes and that wasn't enough for me, cause you know shit I'm lookin' at the eyes, the eyes be pretty and I take the carpet off and then I got a tragedy.

Gin Rummy:
But nah we ain't find 'em. but I always say the absence of evidence is not the evidence of absence.

Riley:
What?

Gin Rummy:
Simply because you don't have evidence that something does exist does not mean that you have evidence that something doesn't exist.

Riley:
What?

Gin Rummy:
What country you from?

Riley:
What?

Gin Rummy:
"What" ain't no country I ever heard of. They speak english in "What"?

Riley:
What?

Gin Rummy:
ENGLISH, MUTHAFUCKER!! DO YOU SPEAK IT!?

Riley:
Yeah!

Gin Rummy:
So you understand the words I'm sayin' to you.

Riley:
Yeah!...

Gin Rummy:
Well what I'm sayin' is that there are known knowns and that there are known unknowns but there's also unknown unknowns. Things we don't know that we don't know.

Riley:
...What?

Gin Rummy:
SAY WHAT AGAIN! SAY WHAT AGAIN! I DARE YOU! I DOUBLE DARE YOU MUTHAFUCKER! SAY WHAT ONE MORE TIME!

(Rummy and Ed III watch Officer Frank closely as he and Ed III approach the counter.)

Rummy:
(to Ed) Watch my back, I got yo front.

(Rummy and Ed III place the cartons on the counter.)

Clerk:
Hey Ed, Rummy my close friends and allies it is good to see you.

Ed III:
Go put dis in tha truck.

Clerk:
Hey slow your roll chief. You guy have to pay for that first.

Ed III:
Damn! Chill out, Aladdin Hussein. You know I'm good for it.

Clerk:
Hey guys you know the rules. No exceptions, cash only.

(Rummy and Ed look back at Officer Frank)

Ed III:
Look, he got a weapon! (pulls out his hand gun and points it at the clerk)

Rummy:
Whoa, wait a minute now, (points his M-16 at the clerk) Put the gun down.

Clerk:
Gun? What gun? I'm not holding a gun. Guys, it's me. Ed, your father help me build this store.

Rummy:
I DON'T KNOW YOU MUTHAFUCKER! NOW, PUT DOWN THE WEAPON, PUT IT DOWN!!

Clerk:
There is no weapon, look!

Rummy:
DROP THE WEAPON!!

Officer Frank:
(trembling nervously) I-- I don't see a weapon!

Huey:
There is no weapon, they're robbing the store!

Clerk:
I am not holding a weapon! I AM NOT HOLDING A WEAPON!

Rummy:
OFFICER, THIS MUTHAFUCKER GOT A GUN POINTED AT YOU!! YOU WANNA DIE!?

Officer Frank:
WHAT?!

Rummy:
DO-YOU-WANNA-DIE!?

Officer Frank:
I-I DON'T WANNA DIE!

Huey:
He does not have a gun!

Rummy:
HE DOES HAVE A GUN, TRUST ME!! THE ABSENCE OF EVIDENCE IS NOT THE EVIDENCE OF ABSENCE!!

Officer Frank:
I-I DON'T SEE A GUN!

Ed III:
Man, fuck this shit! (points his gun at Officer Frank.) Whose side you on? Mine, or this muthafucker who's obviously of terrorist descent?

Officer Frank:
Wait, I think I can see the gun now!

Rummy:
GOOD, NOW ALL SEE THE WEAPON!! NOW YOU HAND OVER THAT WEAPON ON THE COUNT OF THREE, OR I SWEAR TO ALL MIGHTY GOD, I'LL BLOW YOUR FUCKIN' HEAD OFF!! ONE!!

Clerk:
I CAN'T GIVE YOU A WEAPON I'M NOT HOLDING!! YOU'RE THINKING OF THE KOREAN SHOP, NORTH OF HERE!

Rummy:
TWO!!

Officer Frank:
Is he... still holding it!?

Huey:
He-is-not-holding-a-weapon!

Rummy:
TIMES UP!!

Riley:
(narrating) So, what had happened was Gangstalicious was doing a show in town when three men rushed the stage and shot him. Ironically, he was doing his new joint "I Got Shot" at the time.

Gangstalicious:
(rapping) I got shot!

Crowd:
(repeating) I got shot!

(Three men rush the stage and shoot Gangstalicious.)

Gangstalicious:
I got shot!

Crowd:
(still repeating) I got shot!

Gangstalicious:
No, I got shot for real!

Crowd:
I got shot for real!

Gangstalicious:
No goddammit, I got shot! Niggas shot me! I'm bleedin'! I'ma die! Somebody please, help me, help me... (he faints)

Crowd:
No goddammit, I got shot! Niggas shot me! (fades into mumbling)

Riley (narrating) It was 45 minutes before anyone called an ambulance.

Gangstalicious:
(men are shooting at them) WE GONNA DIE!

Riley:
Run nigga! (they run) Where's your gun?

Gangstalicious:
Oh, yeah yeah! Ya'll niggas is in for it, now! (takes out his gun, shoots feebly three times, then drops the gun and runs)

(cut to parking lot)

Riley:
We need a car. We gon' have to jack someone. Where's your gun?

Gangstalicious:
I dropped the gun.

Riley:
You dropped the gun?

Gangstalicious:
What's done is done, let's be solution oriented. (looks around and then looks at Riley) You mad?

Riley:
How you gonna drop the gun, Gangstalicious? That is NOT gangsta! That's VERY not gangsta! Man, I can't believe this. YOU A FRAUD!

Gangstalicious:
Oh I'm a fraud? You scared too!

Riley:
I'm eight.

Gangstalicious:
OKAY, FINE! FINE! WHATEVER! I'm a fraud, I'm a fraud. I'm just an average, normal dude. I DON'T WANNA DO THIS STUPID SHIT NO MORE!! I'm tired of gettin' shot. Help!

Riley:
It's like going to heaven and finding God smokin' crack!

Huey:
You want me to direct the Christmas play?

Mr. Uberwitz:
Absolutely. I think you’ll do a fantastic job.

Huey:
First of all, I don’t give a damn about Christmas.

Mr. Uberwitz:
You don’t have to do a traditional Christmas play... no, you can do... whatever you want.

Huey:
You’ll be fired.

Mr. Uberwitz:
Fired? For what?

Huey:
For bein’ an irresponsible white person.

Mr. Uberwitz I would really love to see your vision.

Huey:
Vision? What do you know about my vision? My vision would turn your world upside down, tear asunder your illusions and send the sanctuary of your own ignorance crashing down around you. Now ask yourself: are you really ready to see that vision?

Mr. Uberwitz:
We’ll give you complete creative control.

Huey:
(considers for a moment) I want it in writing.

Huey:
Have y'all lost your damn minds? Opening night is less than two weeks away and y'all wanna party?

Kid:
We're just having some fun.

Huey:
Fun? Do I look like Charlie Brown?

Kid:
No...

Huey:
Do I LOOK like Charlie Brown?!

Huey:
You know what? All y'all are fired!

Kids:
(collectively) What? Fired?

Huey:
Did I stutter? Beat it!

Mr. Uberwitz:
Huey... but it's the entire cast. Are you sure that's a good idea?

Huey:
(clears throat) Contract.

Mr. Uberwitz:
(to the kids) I'm... sorry guys.

(The kids looks at Quincy Jones.)

Quincy Jones:
Hey, don't be lookin' at me.

Huey:
Don't look at Quincy Jones! Quincy Jones ain't gonna help you! Get ya' asses out! Now!

Santa:
Well hello, there. And what would you like Santa to bring you for Christmas?

Girl:
I want- uh, uh... Santa, you got a red dot on your head.

Uncle Ruckus:
(diving in slow motion) Nooooooooo!

(Riley fires the gun)

Uncle Ruckus:
(he blocks some of the bullets) Ow! Goddamn! That had to pierce a spleen or something.

Riley:
Merry Christmas nigga!

(Santa uses girl to block bullets and girl screams in pain)

Girl:
Santa, why? You ruined my childhood!

Riley:
You gonna pay what you owe, Santa! You gonna pay what you owe. Running like a bitch.

Uncle Ruckus:
(talking on his radio, panting) Backup. I need backup. I'm fat. I can't run very fast. I think I'm having a heart attack and a couple of light strokes.

Riley:
(aims carefully at Santa) Merry Christmas nigga. (gun clicks) Damn.

Jazmine:
Oh, Huey! You’ve got a lunch meeting at 11:30 about the sound effects for the dog fight sequence.

Huey:
Cancel it.

Jazmine:
The PTA is threatening a boycott of the play since you fired all the kids.

Huey:
(yawning) Don’t care.

Jazmine:
And... the principal is in your office to talk about the script.

Huey:
Who?

(later, in Huey's office)

Principal:
First of all, I just wanted you to know we’re thrilled with the script.

Woman 1:
Absolutely fantastic.

Woman 2:
Brilliant. Wouldn’t change a thing.

Principal:
We just had a couple of notes.

Woman 1:
One or two.

Woman 2:
Nothing significant.

Principal:
(flipping through the script) Lets see, uh, there’s a typo on page five; uh, there’s a continuity problem on page 32 — I think that scene’s supposed to be at night — and, let's see, umm... oh yeah, um, and, uh, Jesus can’t be black.

Huey:
What do you mean he can’t be black?

Principal:
He can't be black. Maybe we can make Jesus another color.

Woman 1:
How bout white?

Huey:
But Jesus was black.

Woman 2:
We could probably do Italian.

Principal:
Jesus was Middle Eastern.

Huey:
In addition to Arabs, the Middle East has always had many people of African descent, whom you would consider black.

Principal:
Sorry, can’t do it.

Huey:
(Clears throat, presents contract)

Principal:
Oh right, that. (he tears it to pieces)

Principal:
(leaving) Best of luck.

Woman 1:
(leaving) Break a leg.

Woman 2:
(leaving) I can't wait for opening night.

(camera shows a disappointed Huey with a poster behind him that reveals the chosen title for his play:
The Adventures of Black Jesus)

Riley:
Dear Santa, you are a bitch nigga. Wait, hol'up, hol'up, hol'up. Dear Santa, you are a bitch ass nigga. I heard the mall is hiring extra security to protect you. That's a bitch move, Santa! I'm coming for that ass again until you pay what you owe! Sincerely yours, the Santa Stalker.

Jazmine:
(wiggling her tooth) The tooth fairy will be coming soon.

Huey:
The tooth fairy?

Jazmine:
Yup. Everytime I lose a tooth, the tooth fairy takes it away and leaves a dollar under my pillow.

Huey:
There ain't no such thing as the tooth fairy.

Jazmine:
Then who's leaving the money?

Huey:
Probably your parents. They have both the cash and the access to your room.

Jazmine:
Why would they lie to me?

Huey:
Because the truth hurts Jazmine. The world is a hard and lonely place and nobody gets anything for free. And you want to know what else? One day, you and everyone you know is gonna die.

Jazmine:
(runs away crying)

Secret agent:
You enjoy abusing peoples' illusions. I respect that. It's thankless work. (pauses) Do you like my sunglasses? I wear sunglasses because my idol Dr. Bill Cosby wears sunglasses all the time, and you know what they say: "Cosbiness is next to Godliness."

Huey:
Who are you?

Secret agent:
Nobody, really. Just thought you might want to talk to someone who understands.

Huey:
You don't know me.

Secret agent:
I know you better than you think, Huey Freeman.

Huey:
(surprised, he turns around only to find that the man has disappeared)

Riley:
All I'm saying is when Xzibit brings that car back you goin' be bitches.

Granddad:
What did you call me?!

Riley:
No, no... I mean "bitches" like you gonna have so many bitches that's what niggas gonna call you. No disrespect.

Huey:
No disrespect? You just called your granfather "bitches"!

Riley:
Yeah, but I don't mean "bitches" in a desrespectful way. I mean it as a general word for women.

Huey:
And you're gonna let him get away with this?

Granddad:
It's ok. Just this once.

Riley:
Granddad, I'm just sayin' you might have to change your middle name from Jebediah to Bitches. Is all I'm tryin' say. No disrespect.

Granddad:
Hmm, Granddad "Bitches" Freeman. Hoo, has a nice ring to it.

Riley:
Shh! Did you hear that?

Huey:
What? What is it?

Granddad:
I don't hear anything.

Riley:
Shh! It's Huey's make-believe government agent in our bathroom taking a dump. (snickers)

Secret agent:
If your grandad has one weakness, it's bitches. 'Course they're my weakness too.

Huey:
What are you doing here?

Secret agent:
It's complicated, Huey. I'm a secret agent sent to spy on you. (Huey glares at him) Okay, maybe it's not that complicated.

Huey:
Do spies usually introduce themselves to whoever they spy on? What spy school did you go to?

Secret agent:
Eh. I'm too old to be sneaking around.

Worker:
(passing through) Excuse us. Coming through.

Huey:
What if I tell someone right now?

Secret agent:
You tried that earlier in the kitchen. Remember? By the way, I wasn't really in the bathroom taking a dump, but ma-ha-ha-ha-han! Ah, that brother of yours is a hoot. And your grandfather? Those two need their own sitcom.

Huey:
Leave me alone.

Secret agent:
Look. Just because my job is to watch your every move and evesedrop on your every telephone call and monitor your every e-mail doesn't mean we can't be friends. (a worker passes by the secret agent, but after he finishes passing by, the agent has vanished)

Huey:
I mean, everything that we see is a false reality. It's like... Big Brother, The Matrix, whatever you wanna call it. While we're watching each other, they're watching us. All the time.

Huey:
I'm being followed by a secret government agent.

Jasmine:
Really? Who? Where is he?

Huey:
I dunno. Kinda just pops up outta nowhere and just disappears.

Jasmine:
You mean like the Tooth Fairy?

Huey:
No, I don't mean like the Tooth Fairy!

Jasmine:
Sounds like the Tooth Fairy to me. You can believe in secret agents and I can't believe in the Tooth Fairy? That's messed up, Huey.

Huey:
Go! Eat something out of a dumpster! You street urchen!

Huey:
I came up with a name for you. The White Shadow.

Secret agent:
Hm... I'm white. I'm shadowing you. It's very clever.

Huey:
And I decided that you are a figment of my overactive imagination.

Secret agent:
Now, who is hiding from reality. Just because you're paranoid, Huey, doesn't mean we're not out to get you.

Huey:
If you are real, then why me?

Secret agent:
Oh, come on. You underestimate yourself. It's a shame what happened to the house. You warned them.

Huey:
They wouldn't listen to me. They never listen to me.

Secret agent:
I know you wanna save the world, Huey, but sometimes people need to learn lessons on their own. The hard way. (looks at his watch) Well, can't miss the Idol. And if you ever wanna talk, just remember, I'm always listening. (walks off and hums to himself)

MLK:
Excuse me... brothers and sisters, please (everybody's dancing). Can someone just... turn off... (no one pays attention to him)

Huey:
(narrating) King looked out on his people and saw they were in great need, so he did what all great leaders do: he told them the truth.

MLK:
Will you ignorant niggas PLEASE shut the hell up?!

Crowd:
(astonished)

Some Guy:
Did he just say what I think he said?

MLK:
Is this it? This is what I got all those ass-whoopings for? I had a dream once. It was a dream that little black boys and little black girls would drink from the river of prosperity, freed from the thirst of oppression. But lo' and behold, some four decades later, what have I found but a bunch of trifling, shiftless, good-for-nothing niggas; and I know you some of you don't want to hear me say that word. It's the ugliest word in the English language. But that's what I see now — niggas. And you don't want to be a nigga. Because niggas are living contradictions. Niggas are full of unfulfilled ambitions! Niggas wax and wane, niggas love to complain, niggas love to hear themselves talk but hate to explain! Niggas love being another man's judge and jury! Niggas procrastinate until it's time to worry! Niggas love to be late! Niggas hate to hurry! Black Entertainment Television... is the worst thing I've ever seen in my life! Usher, Michael Jackson is NOT a genre of music! And now I'd like to talk about Soul Plane... I've seen what's around the corner! I've seen what's over the horizon! And I promise you, you niggas have nothing to celebrate! And no, I won't get there with you- I'm going to Canada.

Huey:
(narrating) That was the last time I saw Dr. King, but the story doesn’t end there. King’s speech was replayed the entire next day on the cable news channels. Then, something unexpected happened: people got angry.

Reporter:
Nobody knows exactly what to attribute to the sharp decline in African American dropout rates...

Reporter 2:
...every African American player in the NBA refusing to play until there is a full troop withdrawal from...

Reporter 3:
...Billionaire Bob Johnson apologizing to Black America for the network he founded...

Reporter 4:
...the White House and Congress are receiving an unprecedented amount of calls from irate African Americans...

Huey:
(continuing)...and the revolution finally came.

(Huge crowd seen protesting loudly in front of the gates of the White House. Police shoot tear gas into the crowd.)

Cut to:
Newspaper, dated 2020, sub-headline: Martin Luther King Jr. dies in Vancouver, B.C. at 91 years old

Zoom out to reveal main headline:
Oprah Winfrey Elected President

Huey:
It’s fun to dream.

Sarah:
Hey everyone, I brought peach cobbler.

Riley:
Ewww... Mrs. Dubois, your peach cobbler look like throw up.

Granddad:
Boy!

Riley:
It do! Look it look like throw up with peas in it. Mrs. Dubois, you been eatin' peas?

Granddad:
Boy come here; what wrong with you?

Riley:
What's wrong with me? What's wrong with her? She da one who brought vomit over here in a tupperware container.

Granddad:
That is not vomit. It just look like vomit. Now apologize to Mrs Dubois.

Sarah:
Um, i-i-it's okay... really...

Riley:
Fine: Mrs. Dubois, I'm sorry your peach cobbler look like vomit with peas.

Granddad:
Damnit boy!

Sarah:
Guys, please, you know we don't have to...

Riley:
I don't care if you beat me Granddad, I won't eat it! That is disgusting! It's completely uncalled for!

Granddad:
You'll eat it if I have to hold you down and shove it down your throat.

Sarah:
Really I didn't mean for it to be...

Riley:
I know what you're tryin' do. You tryin' kill me. I hate you!

(Riley runs out the room with Granddad running after him. Scene shows Huey, Jazmine, Sarah and Tom watching Riley getting "whipped" offscreen)

Granddad:
You are gonna eat that cobbler and you gonna ACT LIKE YOU LIKE IT!!!

Riley (while Granddad is talking):
I don't wanna eat the cobbler! I DON'T WANNA EAT THE COBBLER!!!

Granddad:
I present to you...the Luther! A full-pound burger patty covered in cheese, grilled onion, five strips of bacon, all sandwiched between-

Riley:
Two donuts!

Granddad:
Two Krispy Kreme donuts! It's called The Luther because it was supposed to have been invented by Mr. Luther Vandross himself!

Huey:
Luther Vandross is dead!

Granddad:
And? Where's your point? Hm?

Huey:
(watches Riley take a bite of the burger) Is this one of your menus? Sausage and waffle and fried chicken breakfast lasagna?

Granddad:
Yup.

Huey:
Bacon-wrapped chitlin-stuffed catfish? Granddad, you can't serve this kind of stuff to people! It will cause... death!

Riley:
(about the burger he is eating) Woah, this is what crack must feel like!

Granddad:
Shame on you, Huey! You move out to the suburbs, and suddenly you too good for soul food. Perhaps you would enjoy your spotted cheese in a buttered scone, white boy? (Riley passes out) Boy, boy, are you okay?! I'm sure it's just The Itis, right?

Huey:
That or insulin shock! Do CPR!

Granddad:
Riley, wake up!

Huey:
Yeah, I'm not sure yellin' at him is gonna help, Granddad. How do you not know CPR?

Granddad:
I tried to learn CPR, but they wouldn't let me 'cause I was black.

Huey:
What?

Gin Rummy:
Man, I don't get that.

Ed Wuncler III:
Get what?

Gin Rummy:
That textin' shit!

Ed Wuncler:
And what's wrong with textin'?

Gin Rummy:
You mean aside from the fact that it's the stupidest fuckin' thing in the world? I mean, why would anyone in their right mind spend fifteen minutes tryin' to type some shit they could've called and said in five seconds? Plus, it involves typing with your thumbs, which I just don't approve of. Shit, I don't know about you, but I don't have time to read nothin' that a mothafucka typed with his thumbs. Fun fact: Nothing typed by someone's thumbs has ever been important. It's all just Nigga Technology anyway.

Ed:
What'd you call it?

Gin Rummy:
Nigga Technology. Technology for Niggas. And you don't start trippin' and shit, call me a racist. 'Cause I don't mean Nigga in a disrespectful way, I-I mean it as a general term for an ignorant motherfucker. Anybody of any race can be an ignorant motherfucker.

Ed:
Shit, I be textin' my ass off, shit, bitches like text! I be textin' 'em all the time; 'matter of fact, I also be textin' my weed man, too, cause, you know, he don't like to be on the phone, so I text 'im!

Gin Rummy:
...Case in point.

Gin Rummy:
So basically, Nigga Technology is anything that doesn't plug into a printer. Does that plug into a printer?

Ed:
No.

Gin Rummy:
Know why? 'Cause niggas never have anything to print.

(Huey and Riley are fighting in the kitchen)

Granddad:
Boys...what the hell?!

Riley:
I ain't doin' nothin', Granddad! I was just gon' go to Ed's house, and Huey said I couldn't go 'cause he a hater!

Granddad:
What the hell is wrong with you, Huey? If your brother wants to play with Ed and Rummy, that's his business!

Huey:
Granddad! Ed and Rummy are international criminals!

Riley:
There he go hatin' again!

Granddad:
Boy! Stop hatin'!

Huey:
What about the time when Riley and Ed were playing with a loaded shotgun, and Riley shot Ed out of a second-story window?!

(Cutscene to 'Garden Party' when Riley shot Ed out of the window)

Granddad:
Ohhh...that did happen, didn't it?

Riley:
Okay, so just 'cause Ed believes in his Second Amendment right to bear arms, we can't be friends? What you got against the Bill of Rights, Huey?!

Huey:
Okay, how about the time they stopped for gas and ended up robbing the mini-mart?!

(Cutscene to 'A Date with the Health Inspector' during the gun fight)

Riley:
They was fightin' terrorism! Makin' the world safe for the freedoms that we enjoy today! That's messed up, you don't support the troops, Huey!

Granddad:
That is kind of messed up, Huey. (to Riley) Be back by dinner.

Riley:
Ha!

Riley:
It wudn't me!

Officer:
It says, "Riley wuz here."

Riley:
Well maybe it was another Riley.

Officer:
You dropped these pictures (pictures show Riley posing in front of his graffiti), and, umm, you have paint all over your hands.

Tom:
Riley, graffiti is a serious crime. Now as the assistant district attorney, I'd have to arrest you and send you to jail, and you wouldn't want that, would you?

Riley:
(smirking) Nawwww, 'cause I remember when you got arrested that one time and you was cryin' 'cause you thought they were gonna rape you.

Tom:
(interrupting) Well, I don't exactly remember it happening like that.

Riley:
Yeah it did. The way you was talkin, they was fi'in to wear that ass out.

Tom:
(interrupting) Okayyyyy... So we're all agreed that none of us want to go to jail.

Riley:
And then there was somethin' about a salad, or somethin'?

Tom:
(enthusiastically) Yes! Salads! For dinner! They make you eat vegetables every night and they're not... delicious... at all.

Huey:
Uhhhh, is the cop here for me or Riley?

Granddad:
Your brother got caught spraying graffiti on... Wait, why would he be here for you?

Huey:
Uh, No reason.

Riley:
Fine, I knew y'all was gonna find a way to blame me for this. Go ahead! Say hello to the bad guy! But a white man told me to do it.

Tom:
Wait a minute, what white man? What did he look like?

Riley:
White... I just assumed he was in charge.

Officer:
Why?

Riley:
'Cause he was white!

Officer:
And just what did this white man look like?

Riley:
He had a... who do I look like, Snitchy McRat? I don't talk to police!

Granddad:
Boy, you better work your mouth!

Riley:
If you gonna take me to jail then take me to jail! (he holds out his wrists)

Granddad:
(scowls)

Huey:
(narrating) We all know that the images we see can elicit strong emotional reactions. But I've always wondered: could the images we see do more than hurt us emotionally? Is it possible to see something so bad it actually hurts you physically? In other words, can too much black television kill you?

Expert guy:
(clears throat) The idea that too much black television can kill you is absolutely preposterous! I should know. I'm an expert. Can't you tell by my accent?

Huey:
(narrating) Actually, in 1999, 21 year old Shaquoia Peterson died suddenly in the 13th hour of the 24-hour Parkers' Marathon on UPN. The exact cause of death was never determined. Shaquoia's family settled out of court for an undisclosed amount of money. UPN admitted no wrongdoing. I decided I would watch nothing but black people on TV for two weeks to see if I suffered from any adverse health effects. I started by getting a full physical at the health office.

Doctor:
Ah, your blood pressure is fine, which is unusual for black people, and your overall level of health is excellent.

Huey:
(narrating) These were the rules: I was only allowed to watch TV with a majority of African American performers. Commercials included.

Huey:
Okay... Nigga-lize me.

Art teacher:
...and what the heck. Let's have some mountains and some clouds; oh, and of course some joyful little trees... right there. (turns to Riley) Isn't that beautiful? I love painting trees. What do you like to paint, Riley? Hehehheh, aside from your own name, of course.

Riley:
I got in trouble 'cause a you. I thought it was yo' house.

Art teacher:
It was my mistake. But you'll find I don't really believe in mistakes. I believe in "happy accidents." Because you got in trouble, your granddad hired me, and we are gonna have so much fun.

Riley:
(looks away defiantly)

Art teacher:
Well, Riley, I certainly don't want to keep you here if you don't want to. Your granddad wants to make sure I make you do just one drawing a day — then you can go.

Riley:
I jus' gotta draw one thing?

Art teacher:
Anything you want, heheh, have fun.

Riley:
Cool. (he grabs a pencil and paper and draws something in seconds)

Riley:
(walking away, sets the paper down next to the art teacher and heads toward the door)

Art teacher:
(chuckles audibly)

Riley:
(hearing chuckle, turns around) What?

Art teacher:
Oh nothing, heheh... you're free to go.

Riley:
What's funny?

Art teacher:
Nothing, nothing at all. I'll call your granddad and tell him you're walking home.

Riley:
(aggressively) I wudn't really trying, I could do better if I wanted.

Art teacher:
(crumples up Riley's drawing) Oh I'm sure. (he throws it away)

Riley:
(surprised, then angry) Hey! You ain't have to ball it up and throw it in the trash! You know what? That's disrespectful! Yo' mama shoulda raised you better. (he leaves)

Art teacher:
(Continues to paint)

Riley:
(returns and retrieves his crumpled-up drawing) I wudn't even really tryin'. (he leaves again)

Man:
Hey hey, Robert hey! I heard you was going to be delevering the eulogy. I think that mighty nice of you. I know you and Mo had some bad blood.

Granddad:
Well, what's in the past is in the past.

Man:
(Starts laughing) Yeah, I remember how Mo talk about how he couldn't stand yo black ass. Woo, ha! I remember it like it was last week. Matter of fact, I think it was last week.

Granddad:
Last week?!

Man:
Aw man, you should have heard him, Robert! He was on ah roll, heh! You was all kinds of bitches and motherfuckers! He was like Chappelle or something!

Granddad:
He called me a motherfucker last week?! He said that last week?!

Man:
Sho did, I think Tuesday. Bout 1:48 PM.

Granddad:
Well, ain't this a bitch?

Man:
And what surprised me, was you be all kinds motherfuckers really had nothing to do with tha damn conversation. What was we talking about? (Puts his hand on Granddad shoulder.) Soybeans. Whoo, you a bigger man than me. (Starts to walk away.) I don't think I can talk nice about somebody who said that kind of stuff bout me or my mama, hmp. I-am-not-the-one.

Granddad:
I can’t believe I let Mo talk me into this.

Aunt Cookie:
Well, you already here. He said he left you something nice. You might as well go on and get it over with.

Granddad:
(scowls)

Aunt Cookie:
Do you know what you gonna say?

Granddad:
No.

Aunt Cookie:
Well, don’t worry. Just read this (she presents a piece of paper to him). Mo wrote it. He thought you might have some trouble.

Granddad:
(steps to the podium, starts reading the paper) Everything I have in life I owe to Mo Jackson... (looks questioningly at Aunt Cookie)

Aunt Cookie:
(urges him on)

Granddad:
(tentatively) I have never once been gay, but Mo was a very sexy man. We used to call him "Mo bitches"? I once saw Mo in his underwear? And it changed my life? I wish I had a father like Mo Jackson. Mo Jackson paid my rent over fifty times?! ... Okay this is bullshit!

Audience:
(collectively gasps)

Granddad:
Mo Jackson was a asshole.

Audience:
(collectively gasps again)

Granddad:
Mo Jackson was a petty, immature, selfish man. Oh, he was good at one thing: that’s bringin’ the worst out of everybody he met. I came up here because I thought Mo wanted to make things right. But it was just one more chance for him to make a fool out of me. (he walks off stage; people start murmuring amongst themselves)

Man Sitting At a Table:
Yeah, that damn nigga owed me five dollars!

Dewey:
(takes the microphone) Brothers, sisters… please. I think it’s time for a poem: Doom comes like a vacuum, ‘cause death sucks and smells like a raccoon or a baboon... Death kills us like crack killed Pooky... Like Schwarzenegger killed Tookie. Chewbacca was a wookie. Revolution.

[The audience sits in silent, stunned confusion.]

Riley:
Booo... Hey! "Erykah BaDewey"! That was real gay, my nigga! Cut that out!

Cairo:
Shut up, Riley!

Huey:
What’s wrong with you Cairo?! That nigga’s corny.

Cairo:
Corny? Nigga, you’re corny. At least he’s here! Why don’t you follow your punk-ass granddaddy back to Whitesville? Fake nigga?

[Huey punches Cairo in the face and the two start fighting; Dewey looks nervously at Riley and flees from the podium]

Riley:
[Chasing after him] Don't run, nigga, I see you!

Jazmine:
So when do I get to see Sammy Davis, Jr. the Pony?

Wuncler:
(acutely) When you learn how to run a respectable business.

Jazmine:
Huh?

Wuncler:
What the hell is up with this sign? What's this crude drawing suppose to be?

Jazmine:
I-it's the M-M-Magical Pony Carriage.

Wuncler:
This looks like a kid drew it. Look at this, why are all the "e's" backwards?

Jazmine:
I-I-It... It's suppose to be c-cute.

Wuncler:
You think ignorance is cute? Well, I suppose you think you think mental retardation is down right adorable. Lemonade, now! (Jazmine starts to cry and tries to pour a glass) How is anyone supposed to believe you can make lemonade when you can't even spell it? How old are you?

Jazmine:
(crying) T-T-T-Ten.

Wuncler:
(mocking her stuttering) T-T-T-Too damn old to be writing your "e's" backwards, damnit! (walks away, chuckles)

Wuncler:
(speaking under his breath) Squirm little worm.

Jazmine:
What happened?

Huey:
It's okay Jazmine; you don't need him.

Jazmine:
(angrily) What do you mean I don't need him?

Huey:
Well you're not gonna let him treat you like that?

Jazmine:
What, you think ponies grow on trees?

Huey:
What kind of question is that? It's a large four-legged mammal.

Jazmine:
Or maybe I'm just supposed to wait until I'm an old woman before I get my pony. How am I gonna look, Huey? A sixty-five year old woman riding a pony...

Huey:
Jazmine, he's a crook...

Jazmine:
You just want everyone to be miserable because you're miserable. AND WHY ARE YOU WEARING THAT STUPID COAT?.. wish you'd go away...

Granddad:
(pondering) Let's see... I want a... umm...

(cut to female customer)

Female customer:
(speaking quickly) I'll take two small lemonades with ice, two small lemonades without ice, three large lemonades — one with ice, one with no ice, one with crushed ice...

(cut back to Granddad)

Granddad:
You guys have aaummmmmm... uh... hmmm...

(cut to Riley)

Riley:
(slaps some change on the counter) That's all I got.

Jazmine:
Lemonade is a dollar.

Riley:
That's all I got! Make it work, I'm thirsty!

Jazmine:
Lemonade is a dollar!

Riley:
I ain't got no dollar! It's hot as hell out here, man, jus hook me up! All the money I spend up in this place? This some ol' bullshit!

Jazmine:
Lemonade... is... a... DOLLAR!

(cut back to Granddad)

Granddad:
Hmm... Do you guys have anything other than lemonade?

Jazmine:
(stares annoyingly at him)

(cut to Huey)

Huey:
Jazmine, this is stupid. You're bein' exploited.

Jazmine:
You'll never get anywhere in this world without doing a fair day's work for a fair day's pay.

Huey:
Jazmine, Ed's never gonna give you that pony!

Jazmine:
Next!

(cut to Tom)

Tom:
Peaches, I think it's time you come inside.

Jazmine:
Can't talk, Dad, makin' lemonade.

Tom:
Come on, honey, I want you inside now.

Annoyed customer one:
I have been waiting twenty minutes for this lemonade.

Annoyed customer two:
I'm thirsty!

Wuncler:
(approaching Tom) What's the problem?

Tom:
Mr. Wuncler, ya know, yesterday I thought this was cute, but, don't you think you guys are taking this a little far?

Wuncler:
Jazmine can leave whenever she wants, but Sammy Davis, Jr. the Pony will have to be put down.

Jazmine:
What?!

Wuncler:
He's your pony now. Your percentage was supposed to pay for his food and upkeep. Now he'll starve to death in a puddle of his own feces.

Jazmine:
(begins sobbing loudly)

Tom:
(obligedly) Oh come on... Mr. Wuncler...

Jazmine:
I don't wanna leave, Mr. Wuncler! Please, Daddy, don't make me leave!

Wuncler:
(pulling Tom aside) There you have it. You know the name of the game; your daughter chose me. Now we can handle this like some gentlemen, or we can get into some old gangster shit.

Tom:
(nervous, goes back to Jazmine) Okay, best of luck, honey! (he scurries away)

Huey:
At this point we’re resorting to what I call “desperation tactics.”

Shabazz:
Such as?

Huey:
(whispering) I’ve sent anonymous letters to the governor threatening to expose his gay lover.

Shabazz:
I wasn’t aware the governor was gay…

Huey:
He probably isn’t. But I figure ten percent of the population is gay, and probably about half of people cheat on their spouses; so I figure that plan has about a five percent chance of success. Better than nothing.

Shabazz:
Huey…

Huey:
What? You always say I should have faith. Well that’s me having faith. Random anonymous blackmail...

Jazmine:
Do you believe in God, Huey? I believe in God.

Riley:
(interrupting) First of all, I'm gonna live forever, but if I do die I'm gonna smack God upside the head and go tell him to get me a grilled cheese sandwich and some tacos...

Jazmine:
(to Huey) When I want something, or I'm afraid about something, I pray. Have you ever prayed?

Riley:
(interrupting) ...And I dare God to say something. I be like, "Say somethin' God! Say somethin'! Yea I thought so..."

Jazmine:
(to Huey) You should pray for Shabazz — God'll get him out of jail. They have to listen to Him... He's God.

Riley:
(continuing)...And if God say somethin' I be like this. (he makes punching motions) Take that God. (Huey shakes his head) I be beatin' God's jaw like blikaa, blaa.