Michael walks closer to the stairs, and looks up. |
Michael: |
Tracey? |
Michael goes outside, and lights his cigarette. He then notices two tennis rackets by the front door. Michael throws his cigarette down, and walks back in. |
Michael goes back towards the stairs, and begins to walk up them. |
Michael quickly realises what Amanda is doing, and runs up the stairs. |
Michael: |
You better not be! |
Michael: |
Not in my house! |
Amanda appears outside of the bedroom with a towel on, trying to get Michael to go away. |
Amanda: |
Fuck you, Michael! Go Away! |
Michael moves closer to the door, and stands in front of Amanda |
Michael: |
I'm paying that turd a hundred and fifty bucks an hour to fuck my wife? |
Michael moves Amanda to the side, and opens the door. |
Amanda follows Michael into the bedroom. |
Amanda: |
Michael, go away! |
The tennis coach is standing on the bed, apologising to Michael |
Coach: |
Whoa! I'm sorry bro. She said you had an arrangement. |
The coach moves off the bed, and Michael stands on the bed. |
Michael: |
You and I are gonna have an arrangement. |
Michael stands off the bed, and tries to move to the tennis coach, but Amanda holds him back. |
Michael: |
I'm gonna arrange your fuckin' funeral. |
The tennis coach moves up and down on the spot in a worried way. |
Coach: |
I'm really sorry, bro. I'll comp the session, I promise. |
Michael: |
You're a dead man! |
The tennis coach runs to the window doors, while Michael keeps yelling at him |
The tennis coach smashes the doors as he runs through them. Michael and Amanda move towards the door. |
The tennis coach vaults over a flower pot, which falls with him, and he screams. |
Michael moves to the balcony, and looks down. Amanda is close by in the room. He then turns around, and Amanda also turns around to leave the room. |
Michael runs out of the room. |
Franklin walks to the door, whilst Michael and Amanda run down the stairs. |
Franklin walks into the house. |
Franklin: |
What's up, man? |
Michael walks to the front door |
Michael: |
Get out of my way! |
Amanda follows behind, trying to stop Michael. |
Amanda: |
Michael, calm down! |
Franklin, oblivious to what happened, asks what's going on. Michael and Amanda both stop at the front door. |
Franklin: |
What the fuck is going on? |
Amanda: |
Nothing happened, it was all a misunderstanding. |
Michael: |
She fucked a prick in my bed. |
Michael moves Franklin to the side, and walks out of the house. |
Franklin: |
You bullshittin' me? |
Amanda tries to defend herself |
Amanda: |
It wasn't like that! |
Michael points at Franklin |
Franklin agrees to help Michael |
Franklin: |
Let's roll, let's get this motherfucker. |
Amanda walks onto the steps of the house |
Amanda: |
Just don't kill him! |
Amanda runs back into the house, and slams the doors |
Franklin: |
This truck yours? |
Michael: |
Guy's doing some work for me. He'll get it back. |
Michael: |
Might have a dead body hooked to it, but he'll get it back. |
Franklin: |
Oh? So we killing this dude? |
Michael: |
He'll wish he was dead. That a problem? |
Franklin: |
Shit, a dog shouldn't shit in another dog's kennel. |
Michael: |
Exactly. People have been shitting in my kennel for too long. |
Franklin: |
Off to the left, right there. |
Michael: |
The fuck is he doing? |
Franklin: |
Hey, Get out of the way. |
Franklin: |
Fuck man, I think we lost his ass. |
Michael: |
He lives somewhere up in the canyon, we'll find him. |
Michael: |
Okay, This is the turn. |
Franklin: |
Hey! He in one of these fucking houses? |
Michael spots the coach's car. |
Michael: |
That's his car. Right there. |
Michael then spots the coach on a silt house. |
Michael: |
The little prick's up there. Look. |
Franklin: |
Oh shit, coach doin' alright for hisself. |
Michael drives closer to the supports for the house. |
Michael: |
Hey, asshole! You ran off before we could settle our debts. |
Coach: |
Michael, bud! You got the wrong idea, man. |
Michael and Franklin get out of the car on the other side of the house. |
Michael: |
There's a winch in the back of the truck. |
Michael: |
Tie the cable to one of those supports up there. |
The camera pans to the house, with Michael and Franklin preparing to winch the house to the truck. |
Franklin: |
You finna pull his deck down? |
Michael: |
Hey, that prick pulled my marriage down. |
Franklin: |
Man, you really going to be this fucking dramatic? |
Michael brushes off Franklin's comment. |
The camera shows the coach on the balcony of the house. |
Coach: |
I told you I'd comp the session, bud! |
Michael: |
Well there were a lot of freaking sessions, bud! |
Michael: |
I'm thinking you were working on more than just her backhand! |
Coach: |
Mandy's backhand has come a long way, bro. |
Coach: |
But sometimes it's got to get worse to get better. |
Michael: |
Yeah, well, maybe I should come up there and practice my backhand... |
Coach: |
Oh, bud. Your negative energy is seriously bringing me down. |
Michael: |
Oh, I hope it is, bud. |
Franklin finishes tying the winch to the house. |
Franklin: |
We hooked up, man. |
Michael continues to shout at the coach. |
Michael: |
You come into my house, take my money and nail my wife, are you fucking kidding me!? |
An unknown woman joins the coach at the balcony |
Coach: |
I'm gonna stick up my hand and say that was uncool, bud. |
The woman grabs her phone, and phones an unknown person. |
Coach: |
My bad. Seriously. |
Michael: |
How fucking magnanimous! |
Michael: |
May I please offer you my applause... |
Michael: |
You fucking motherfucker! |
The camera pans back to the coach. |
Michael: |
Hey, we'll see how you'll like it when someone fucks with your shit! |
The coach quickly realises what Michael is about to do. |
Coach: |
Hey! Wait! You got the wrong idea, pal! |
Michael walks back to the Bison, and gets in. |
Michael begins driving forward |
Michael: |
Here we go! Let's see what happens. |
Franklin: |
Dude, you are properly crazy. |
The houses begins to crumble. |
Franklin: |
Aw shit. You see this shit, dog? |
Michael moves forward some more, and more pieces of the house falls off. |
Franklin: |
Come on, man. Do it to 'em. |
Franklin: |
Man, homie ain't grubbing outside tonight, dog. |
Franklin: |
Do it, man. Fuckin' do it. |
Michael is delighted to see the house on the road. |
Michael: |
Fuckin' A. Let's see how he liked that. |
Franklin: |
Whoa, man! Fuck! |
Michael: |
Fuck him! And fuck his deck! |
Franklin: |
Eh, homie! I think you pulled a little more than the deck down. |
Michael: |
It's a foolish man who builds his house on sand, baby. |
Franklin: |
Hey man, I don't think my boy Matthew was thinking trucks when he wrote that shit. |
Coach (voice only): |
Mr. De Santa! What the hell!? That's not my house. |
Coach (voice only): |
Bro, I couldn't afford a place like that. I'm a tennis coach, I hit balls for a living. |
Coach (voice only): |
I was just hiding there. |
Unknown (voice only): |
Give me phone! You! You're a dead man! |
Unknown (voice only): |
Green light! Green light! Martin Madrazo give you green light! |
Michael: |
Oh I'm scared lady. Just fucking terrified. |
Michael begins to mock the woman's threat |
Michael: |
"Green Light!" "Green Light! "Martin Madrazo!" Fuck you. |
Franklin hears Martin Madrazo's name, and gets worried. |
Franklin: |
Whoa. Homie. Martin? Martin Madrazo? |
Michael: |
That's what she said. |
Franklin: |
Damn, dude's a kingpin, homie. Man, you better hope... |
Michael brushes off Franklin's warning |
Michael: |
I ain't hoping anything. Chick was hysterical. Chill out. |
Michael: |
The coach should be doing the Russian broad. Chick needs to chill the fuck out. |
Franklin also begins to mock the woman's threat |
Franklin: |
Dead man! Dead man! |
Franklin: |
But you did just pull her life apart, homie. |
Michael: |
Yeah, I guess I did. All the more reason for coach to show her a good time. |
Franklin: |
Man, yo' ass is crazy. You like a sailor on shore leave making up for lost time. |
Michael: |
Oh, I been at sea alright. Everything they tell you that you want, kid, you don't need it. |
Franklin: |
Yeah? Like what? |
Michael: |
Fast cars, big houses, beautiful women. |
Franklin: |
Man, you talking from the perspective of privilege, homie. To a hungry dude like me, man, all that shit look good. |
Michael: |
The hunger's the first thing you lose. When that goes - the hunger and anxiety - you get sloppy and you ain't worth a shit. |
Franklin: |
Well, what I just saw up there was a dude that's eatin' good, but he useful. Man, you could teach me a few things, dog. |
Michael: |
Yeah, lesson number one, don't meet the mother of your children in a skin joint. |
Franklin: |
Man, I don't know dog, strip clubs... |
Michael: |
Lesson number two, don't expect her to fucking change. She'll be picking your pocket, and rubbing up on other men until the day you die. |
Franklin is a bit confused at Michael's advice. |
Franklin: |
The advice I'm after's more work related, homie. |
Martin Madrazo's goons open fire on the Bison. |
Franklin: |
Shit, we got some heavies on us, homie. * Hey man, there's some mean lookin' motherfucking eses right behind. |
Michael: |
Are you kidding me? Kid, can you do something? * That was quick. Alright, help me deal with this. |
Franklin: |
I'll try man, Drive. * I'll try my best. Let's go. * I'll give it a go, man. Keep driving. |
Michael/Franklin: |
We can handle this, can't we? Screw 'em! * Push the pedal, man. We gotta move. * There he goes. |
Michael: |
That guy got it. |
Michael and Franklin kill more of Madrazo's men. |
Franklin/Michael: |
Let's go, let's leave 'em behind! * How much distance we got between us? |
Michael and Franklin kill all of Madrazo's men. |
Michael: |
Alright, we managed to lose them? |
Franklin: |
Yeah, my n***a! That's it. |
Michael: |
Okay. We go back to my house, think about this. |
They start driving back to Michael's house. |
Michael: |
Wow. Shit. You did good. I mean, your aim's all over the place, but you were a help. |
Franklin: |
Uhhh. Thanks... I guess. |
Michael: |
Don't get defensive. Go to a shooting range. Work on your aim. You'll do fine. |
They arrive at Michael's house, both get out of the Bison, and Michael walks to his front door. |
Michael: |
Hey, thanks for the help out there today, kid. |
Michael: |
I had no idea it was gonna get that hot. |
Franklin: |
Shit. Pulling houses off the hillside sure has a weird way of fucking with people. |
Michael: |
Yeah, well I thought I was through with all that shit. |
Michael: |
I don't know what the hell is going on. |
Franklin hears a vehicle pull up |
Franklin: |
Oh shit! I think we're about to find out. |
Four people exit a Black Baller, with a man opening a side door, to reveal a grey haired man in a blue suit. The man walks towards Franklin and Michael |
Unknown: |
Do you know who I am? |
The man starts to get angry. Another man with a silver baseball bat follows behind. |
Unknown: |
Do you know who I am? |
The man looks at Franklin. |
The man looks at Michael. |
Unknown: |
I know who you are. I know where you live. |
The man points at Franklin. |
Franklin hands his license to a man, who snatches out of his hand, and gives it to the man in a blue suit. |
Unknown: |
Now, Franklin, maybe help Mr. De Santa here. Who am I? |
Franklin: |
I think Martin Madrazo. |
Martin Madrazo: |
Good boy. |
Martin Madrazo: |
Now maybe give him a little of the background. |
Franklin turns to Michael |
Franklin: |
Man, Martin Madrazo... |
Franklin: |
Mr. Madrazo is a legitimate businessman. |
Franklin: |
He was wrongfully accused of... |
Franklin: |
running a Mexican American gang and a narcotic ring, but the charges were dropped because of the witnesses came up... |
Martin points at Franklin |
Martin Madrazo: |
Smart kid. |
Martin turns around to grab the baseball bat from one of his men. |
Martin Madrazo: |
Now, Michael. |
Martin takes the baseball bat, and turns back to Michael. |
Martin Madrazo: |
I've got a question for you. |
Martin whacks Michael with the bat. Michael falls to the ground outside his garage. His men point their guns at Franklin and Michael |
Martin Madrazo: |
Why, did you pull a architecturally, significant, modernist wonder home down the hillside in Vinewood Hills? |
The men with guns turn to Michael. |
Michael: |
I thought the owner was banging my wife. |
Martin Madrazo: |
Well that was a strange house for a tennis coach. |
Michael: |
I wasn't thinking straight. |
Martin gives the baseball bat back to the man who originally had it. |
Martin Madrazo: |
Well, Natalia will need a hotel, while you finance the rebuild, won't she? |
Martin Madrazo: |
And I'm guessing here that, the rebuild will be somewhere in the... two point five million range? |
Martin moves back to his car. Natalia spits on Michael, before walking back to the car. |
Franklin: |
Damn, you alright? |
Michael: |
Looks like I'm gonna have to postpone my retirement. |
Michael looks back at his house. |
Michael: |
Ah, man. I'm mortgaged up to my eyeballs. |
Michael: |
Look, I only know one way to make money. |
Michael: |
I'm gonna have to give an old friend a call. |
Michael: |
I think he's in town somewhere. |
Michael: |
Might have to track him down. |
Michael pats Franklin on his shoulder. |
Michael: |
Just give me a little alone time, alright? |
Michael walks back into his house. |
Michael: |
Fuck, man, shit! |
The mission complete screen appears. |
|