EXT. OSTENTATIOUS SUBURBAN MANSION – DAY
NARRATOR [voiceover]: …about that time, Ray and Aqib had just finished a game of mailbox baseball.
RAY: …it’s really not a good idea for you to be waving your piece around like that.
AQIB: [tucks a handgun back into his waistband] Yeah, well who ever heard of using a knife in a game of mailbox baseball?
RAY: I just wish the competition committee would stop changing the rules.
AQIB: [quoting derisively] “The mailbox must be fully separated from the post thoughout the process of falling to the ground…”
RAY: Yeah man, that shit’s fucked up.
AQIB: It’s like, we know what a fucking base hit in mailbox baseball looks like.
RAY tosses a broken bat on the ground in front of a Ferrari parked on the lawn.
The two approach the front door of the mansion and ring the bell.
— [door flies open] —
GREG “THE LEG” OLSEN:
Well met, good sirs, please do proceed within.
And now the day’s festivities begin!
AQIB: The fuck?
RAY: He said go inside, dumbass.
GREG OLSEN leads RAY LEWIS and AQIB TALIB through the house, which is lavishly appointed but in complete disarray. Empty pizza boxes abound, along with dirty laundry.
AQIB: What’s he saying about ‘festivities’?
RAY: Well I guess we’ll see, won’t we?
They arrive at the rear of the house.
— [patio door flies open] —
RICHIE INCOGNITO: What’s up, sluts? You boys ready to get inked?
CUT TO: EXT – BACK YARD
The four men – RICHIE, GREG, RAY, and AQIB are together along with LeSEAN McCOY and REUBEN FOSTER in the back yard. GREG winces as RICHIE carves into his upper arm with a knife, while LeSEAN works on REUBEN in the background. AQIB sits smoking a cigarette and looking at a girlie magazine.
These ink and needle scribblings bring me pain
I’d like not to exper’ience them again.
RICHIE: [applying ink from a ballpoint pen to the gash] Yeah, well stop fucking moving and it’ll be over a lot faster. You’re making me fuck up the tribal part.
LeSEAN: Tribal part? What fuckin’ tribe are you assholes in, anyways?
RICHIE: We’re honorary Samoans, dipshit.
NARRATOR [voiceover]: …Richie was something of an ogre to us younger boys. The inherent savagery in the Incognito bloodline was well-known in our town. Richie’s own father had met a violent end; he had been savagely beaten and left for dead after a bar fight and ultimately died due to a fractured skull. He might have survived if someone had called an ambulance sooner; the only passerby who saw him lying unconscious on the sidewalk got distracted by a dog with a puffy tail.
LeSEAN: So what’s the deal with you and this Elissa Ennis chick?
REUBEN: [frowns] I been seein’ her for a month and all she’ll let me do is feel her tits.
LeSEAN: She’s not up for a game of hide-the-salami, eh?
REUBEN: Nope. Not even the tip. Kinda like you, huh?
LeSEAN: I’ll give you a fuckin’ tip, asshole. [prods him with the tip of the pocketknife]
REUBEN: Ah! Motherfucker. I’ll throw your ass down those stairs. Don’t think I won’t do it.
It’s rare to get betwixt a papist’s thighs.
You’ll find a Protestant much more the prize.
AQIB: What the fuck are you saying?
RICHIE: He’s saying you’re gonna get nowhere dating a Catholic, man. They’re all like that. You gotta get yourself a Protestant if you wanna get some puss.
LeSEAN: He’s right, man. That’s where you’ll find the puss.
RICHIE: Or a Jew. Some good puss there.
RAY: You guys ever get any Muslim puss?
AQIB: No, haven’t had that kind of puss.
RAY: Oh man, that’s some great puss.
RICHIE: Yeah, you gotta try some of that Arab puss.
LeSEAN: You mean Muslim puss?
RICHIE: Arab puss, Muslim puss, what’s the difference?
AQIB: Yeah man, it’s all puss.
RAY: Ain’t that the truth.
An awkward silence falls.
RAY: Oh. Uh, puss.
RICHIE: Ha ha, yeah! [high fives him]
— [radio flies open] —
DJ3000 [voiceover]: This is a KDFO newsbreak. We interrupt to give you an update on the search for Roosevelt Rene. Police have expanded their efforts to include Hawthorn, Glen Rock, and Ridgewood.
RICHIE: When are they gonna give up? The guy’s gone, they’re never gonna find him.
AQIB: Not where they’re looking.
RAY: Hey. Richie’s right, Aqib, they ain’t never gonna find him.
REUBEN: Tell you how they’re gonna find him. Ten years from now, some hunter’s gonna go in the woods to take a leak, wind up pissin’ on his bones.
AQIB: I bet you a thousand bucks they find him before that.
LeSEAN: [sneers] I bet you two thousand dollars they don’t.
RAY: What’s the big deal, who cares?
RICHIE: Would you two just shut the fuck up? If either of you assholes had two thousand dollars I’d kill you both.
RAY LEWIS and AQIB TALIB look at each other nervously.
DJ3000 [voiceover]: Hey we’re back here with the DJ3000. From the racks and stacks it’s the best on wax, it’s Dion and The Belmonts with “The Wanderer”.
…to be continued…