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: Gimme that watch!
] Uncle Elroy
: Oh, no. Not the Roley! Santa Claus
: Now it's a Stoley. Gimme the watch! Looking like a Mississippi pimp. Bitch better have my sweet potatoes. Ho, ho, ho, Top Flight Security. Merry christmas motherfucker!
: About a year ago, my pops quit his dog-catching job and went into business with my uncle Elroy. They ran this spot called Brothers Barbecue. Taste so good, make you wanna slap yo' mama. You might have seen the commercial. Uncle Elroy
: Ya'll tired of eatin' that barbecue from up the street? Where they give you more sauce than they give you meat? Then bring your big ass down to Bros. Barbecue, 15837 South Crenshaw Boulevard, that's right off Manchester. Bros. Barbecue, tastes so good, make you wanna slap yo' mama! Don't it, Willie? Mr. Jones
: Yeah, boy! Hey, mama? Grandma Jones
: What the hell you want, Willie?
[Willie slaps her
] Uncle Elroy
: Ain't but one location, so it's nearest you. Craig Jones
: You might have missed it. They only had enough money for a 15-second spot. Well, my pops hooked us up with a job as Christmas help security.
Bad Boy #1
: Man he don't look like no reindeer, he look like a pit bull. Giddy up pit bull. Uncle Elroy
: You better stop jumpin' up and down before I have to bite you or something. Bad Boy #1
: Can you lock your jaws and shake like a pit bull. Uncle Elroy
: Yeah, want me to show you?
: I look better than you! Uncle Elroy
: You don't! Mr. Jones
: I cook better than you! Uncle Elroy
: You can't! Mr. Jones
: My dick is bigger than yours! Uncle Elroy
: It was cold that night!
: You remind me of them old players that hang out in the clubs wit da young girls. Uncle Elroy
: You know, you remind me of a young nigga that's fuckin' with the wrong old nigga!
: Where your flashlight at? Rent-a-cops supposed to have flashlights. You gotta shine some damn body. Craig Jones
: We supposed to get handcuffs, flashlights, taser guns. Day-Day
: German shepherds. Uncle Elroy
: Y'all must ain't heard what happened to the last security guards they had 'round here.
: [catching Craig and Day-Day smoking weed
] Let me hit that before Willie bring his old square ass out here.
: Elroy, don't you mess with this ba-ba-ba-barbecue business. I'm gon' keep a eye on you. Uncle Elroy
: I don't give a damn 'bout yo lazy eye, you Popeye lookin' son of a... No! I started this barbecue shit, and this is the motherfuckin' thanks I get?
: [groping Craig
] Oooh, that's a fat ass! Uncle Elroy
: All right, all right, all right, that's enough! Shit! That's enough! Now get upstairs and put some clothes on! Go on, now!
: Hey Day-Day, that crazy bitch out there again!
: [to Craig
] You family, I love you, you welcome to anything in my house. But don't let me catch you in my refrigerator, don't let me catch you with yo finger in my Suga Bowl, You feel me knockin'.
: [Suga falls on Craig's lap, face down
] Negro, what the hell you doing with my woman? Craig
: I don't know. I must have... shit. Uncle Elroy
: Suga? What the hell you doing with my nephew? Suga
: I'm sorry, baby. I thought it was you. Uncle Elroy
: Come on, baby. I'm faded, feeling X-rated. It's Mr. Nasty Time. Suga
: Mr. Nasty Time! Uncle Elroy
: Mr. Nasty Time. But take it easy on my back.
] Uncle Elroy
: Make yourself at home, nephew.
: I bet you smoke a lil' weed, don't ya? Craig Jones
: Why do say that? Uncle Elroy
: [looks at him
] Cause your lip's turnin' black!
: I got your message, where is Craig? Uncle Elroy
: "Message"? I ain't sent you no damn MESSAGE. Mr. Jones
: You didn't call the sandwich joint with an urgent message Uncle Elroy
: Hell no Willie, boy you're startin' to think like a Dog. Leaving fleas & ticks suckin' on your old-ass brain. Mr. Jones
: Somebody send me a message, where is Craig & Day-Day Uncle Elroy
: I don't know. But come on in. Uncle Elroy
: [Sees his brother with poop in the back his uniform when coming in to his house
] You know you got shit all over the back of your ass? Hey don't sit on that couch, put some paper down.