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: Look, man, all we need is the tapes, all right? Record Producer
: No, you don't get the tapes until you've paid. Dirk
: In our situation, that doesn't make any fucking sense. Reed Rothchild
: Look, we can not pay for the tapes, unless we take the tapes to the record company, and get paid. Dirk
: Hello? Exactly. Record Producer
: That's not an MP, that's a YP, your problem. Come up with the money, or forget it. Reed Rothchild
: Okay, now you're talking above my head. I don't know all of this industry jargon, YP, MP. All I know is that I can't get a record contract, we cannot get a record contract unless we take those tapes to the record company. And granted, the tapes themselves are a uh um oh, you own them, all right, but the magic that is on those tapes. That fucking heart and soul that we put onto those tapes, that is ours and you don't own that. Now I need to take that magic and get it over the record company. And they're waiting for us, we were supposed to be there a half hour ago. We look like assholes, man. Dirk
: Let me explain to him in simple arithmetic. One, two three! Because you don't fuckin' get it, Burt! You give us the tapes. We get the record contract. We come back and give you your fuckin' money. Have you heard the tapes? Have you even heard them? We're guaranteed a record deal. Our stuff is that good! Record Producer
: Now I get it. Now I understand. You want it to happen... but it's not going to happen. Because it's a Catch-22. Dirk
: What the fuck does that mean? What is a Catch-22, Burt? Record Producer
: Catch-22, gentleman. Think about it.
: You know what I'm thinking about, man? I'm thinking about kicking some fuckin' ass!
: We're not leaving yet. We're here now, and we want something else from you. Hey... hey, hey, hey, hey! Hey! We want something else from you. Rahad Jackson
: ...What? Dirk
: Todd, what the hell are you doing man? Let's just go. Todd Parker
: In the master bedroom... under the bed... in a floor safe. Understand? Dirk
: What the fuck is the matter with you Todd, let's go! Come on, man! Reed Rothchild
: Todd! Todd Parker
: Shhhut up Dirk. I t... I told you I got a plan. I got a very good plan. Rahad Jackson
: Are you-are you kidding me, kitty? Todd Parker
: Nah, I'm not, see? I'm not kidding. I want what's in the safe! We want what is in the goddamn safe, in the goddamn master bedroom on the fuckin' floor in the goddamn fuckin' floor safe, that's all! Dirk
: Todd, don't be crazy, ok?
: Sir - we don't know anything about this, okay? This is not at all what we wanted. Todd Parker
: Shut the fuck up Dirk.
[to Rahad's bodyguard
] Todd Parker
: Do not reach for your gun, man, don't reach for your gun! Todd Parker
: [Todd pulls out gun and aims it at bodyguard, Rahad shoots Todd in the shoulder, before fleeing to his bedroom, laughing maniacally; Dirk and Reed take cover as the bodyguard pulls out two pistols and starts firing at them, Todd then shoots the bodyguard
] Todd Parker
: He went in the bedroom! Dirk
: Todd, what the fuck are you doin'? Todd Parker
: He went in the bedroom! Dirk
: Todd, what the fuck did you go crazy? Todd Parker
: He's got coke and he's got cash, in that safe, in that bedroom and if we leave here without it, man we're fuckin' idiots, man! We came here to motherfuckin' do something and we can fucking do it, alright? Are you with me? Reed Rothchild
: Todd, listen to me! Let's just split, man! Let's just split right this was not the thing! This was not supposed to be the thing, Todd! Todd Parker
: That's what we goddamn came here to motherfuckin' do, and that's what I'm gonna fuckin' do right fuckin' now! Dirk
: Fuck, no! Don't, don't! Don't be fucking stupid! Rahad Jackson
: [Todd kicks down the door and is shot in the chest with a shotgun by Rahad
] Come on, you puppies!
[Rahad racks his shotgun and fires at Dirk and Reed
] Rahad Jackson
: It's comin' down for puppies!
: Hey, are those lizard? Dirk
: No, they're Italian. I'm gonna fuckin' buy these.
: [as Chest Rockwell
] Let's get some of that Saturday night beaver.
: Have you seen that Star Wars movie? Eddie Adams
: Yeah, I've seen it four times. Reed Rothchild
: You know, people tell me I kind of look like Han Solo.
: Want to hear a poem I wrote? "I love you, you love me. Going down the sugar tree. We'll go down the sugar tree, and see lots of bees: playing, playing. But the bees won't sting, because you love me." That's it.
: Do these characters have a name? Dirk
: The guy's name is Brock Landers. Reed Rothchild
: And his partner is Chest Rockwell. Jack Horner
: Those are some great names.
[Reed and Buck discuss a magic trick in a loud and crowded night club
] Buck Swope
: Doesn't it scare you dealing with all those evil forces? Reed Rothchild
: Evil horses? Buck Swope
: Evil forces. Reed Rothchild
: Evil? No man, it's not evil. It's an illusion. Buck Swope
: Yeah, yeah, it's confusing.
[Reed looks confused and smiles
] Reed Rothchild
: Thank you.
: I have other interests. I'm a magician.
: TODD... PARKER! Todd Parker
: Rockin' Reed Rothchild! Reed Rothchild
: You made it! Woo-Hoo! Todd Parker
: Amazing party, man! Fuckin' chicks everywhere! Reed Rothchild
: You bet. Compliments of Jack Horner. Thank you. Todd Parker
: I wouldn't mind me having a piece of that action right over there. Reed Rothchild
: Michelle; I'll introduce you. Todd Parker
: Sure, introduce her to my lap! Reed Rothchild
: Ha ha. You just get off of work, man? Todd Parker
: Don't dance Sunday nights. Reed Rothchild
: Right. Todd Parker
: Who's 'vette is that out in the driveway? Reed Rothchild
: DIRK! I'm so jealous. Todd Parker
: That shit's jammin', man. Todd Parker
: Start down low with a 350 cube, three and a quarter horsepower, 4-speed, 4:10 gears, ten coats of competition orange, hand-rubbed lacquer with a huplane manifold, Todd Parker
: Full fuckin' race cams. Whoo!
: Nobody fucks with Chest and Brock!