A NETFLIX SERIES
DISCOLASH DISCO-CLUB
DIABOLICO CARTEL
Here's to us. So that we don't remember anything tomorrow. Got it, buddy?
And of course, so that the inevitable hangover is very light and pleasant.
And to the ladies! No need to remember them tomorrow either.
And may they also be easy.
Cheers!
Ooh.
-Nice one. Another round? -Yeah.
I guess.
But I've been thinking, Sylwek,
it's always vodka shots and more vodka shots, right?
What about if you and me try something different?
Mariusz, I really like you almost like a friend,
but if you say you want to switch from expensive vodka
to the watered-down piss beer that's being served at this fucking place,
I promise you, and everyone getting wasted here at the club tonight
can be a witness to this promise, I'll smack you.
Are you crazy? Who the fuck do you think I am?
I had something a bit more hardcore in mind.
-Harder than vodka? -How about we do some lines of cocaine?
-What? -What?
I mean… Have you ever tried it before?
-Sure, I have. How about you? -Yeah, maybe.
Mm-hmm.
-So neither of us have tried it. -So what?
So I think I saw a dealer standing right outside the disco.
-Good evening. -What?
Good evening. We would please like two lines of coke.
Dude, it's sold by the gram.
-Ah! Well then, I'd like two grams. -Eight hundred.
-How much? -Okay, Mariusz, let's get outta here.
Speed's cheaper. Thirty per gram.
It'll be plenty for two lines.
Lines that'll be as thick as a male pornstar's overused veiny cock.
Oh. Sounds good. I'll take it.
You can pay me back.
Not here, dumbass. Put that away.
Goodbye.
-Now what? -Snort it.
All right.
Ahh!
Hey, the second one was for me.
To the dance floor!
Stop! Entry is ten zloty.
But we already paid. We just stepped out for a bit.
It says here on the sign directly behind me,
"No stepping out for a bit."
You want in? You pay again.
Hey, you little shit!
Ooh!
To the dance floor!
The bouncer looked like a snail with horns instead of eyes.
You know what I mean? But the fucking asshole didn't even care.
He just ran onto the dance floor and went so berserk,
that he scared all the customers away.
METROPOLITAN BEER
I told the head of security, "Everybody go to the main hall."
"Get the rioter out of here."
Five security guards.
Five men over 250 pounds
got into the hall and surrounded this stupid moron.
The head of security was pissed and shouted,
"There are no sport shoes allowed in here."
And the guy just looked at him with these empty glazed over eyes
and yelled out, "DJ, turn on the music, I wanna breakdance."
I said to the DJ, "Don't you fucking dare."
The DJ said politely into the mic,
"The party's over, you're welcome to get the fuck out now."
And that's when it all started.
The security guards were popping like fucking flies.
-"Dropping." -Um, sorry, dropping.
The security guards were dropping like fucking flies.
Yeah, the first one…
had his arm broken.
The second one…
his leg.
The third one…
his heart.
And the last two just got smacked the hell up.
The poor DJ had to play "Lambada" until 2:00 p.m. the next day.
And the moron was breakdancing,
until he got a bald spot on the top of his head.
And this shit happens every week.
Each week one or more of our customers go batshit crazy.
The police don't want to launch an investigation.
They say, "That's normal on drugs." But you know what I think?
I think there's something very, very wrong with these drugs.
Hey, man, I don't know shit about drugs.
You see, I'm a patriot. And the only thing I drink is only pure vodka.
When there's no more vodka, I'm fine with any alcohol.
Shit, Jesus, but you're a goddamn exorcist,
and the shit that they're selling outside the club
is straight from the dark depths of Hell.
Okay then. It's two hundred.
Three hundred with an invoice. Not really worth it.
I'll get right to work on it.
Fuck yeah, I need an invoice. It's a business expense.
Whoa, holy fucking shit, well, that is a new one.
I guess I'll have to register my business now.
Yee-haw!
Let's spend this money as fast as possible!
Too much dough in your wallet is bad luck!
Yeah right, my next taco will take care of that!
All right. Can someone please explain to me what in the hell we're doing here?
Marcinek and I are waiting for the dealer to get here.
Yeah, and you're here to make sure
you don't make another mess at the office again.
Forgive me, I still can't quite get the hang of the bathroom thing.
Back home, toilets are only used for drinking out of.
And you take a poo on the floor.
All right, now here is a question to help us kill some time.
Is twelve like a lot?
-Well, that all depends. -Bottles of vodka, yeah.
Nah, doesn't really matter what. Bottles, years, zloty…
…uh, centimeters.
So that's the question. Well, that's not all that much.
All right! Don't worry about it. You know, it's not like you're getting laid anyway.
Okay, shut up, there he is.
Evening. Give me a bag of your cheapest.
The Czech Speedball.
That's a bold choice. One zloty fifty.
Not out here!
Damn these stupid gloves.
Whoa, hang on.
-I fucking knew it! -Wait, let's make a deal.
I'll give you a hundred. I've got a few thousand.
Oh, damn it, I've said too much. Wait a second!
Ninety-five, 96, 97, 98…
Ninety-nine?
A hundred. All good. Get lost, Burro.
Thank you, Banio. Don Carlos Nachos.
El respecto.
Who's next?
D-Don Carlos… B-B-B-Banio…
Spit it out, Diarea. Mr. Don Carlos is in a hurry.
-What's that? -Bad news, boss.
We've lost one of the dealers.
I don't care about your dealer. Where's the money and drugs?
It was stolen.
Ouch! What…
You better get the money and the drugs back, my friend,
or you will end up like Banio here.
Um, you mean I'll become your right hand?
Yeah, with a giant vent in your head.
What in the hell made me become a gangster in the first place?
The money is decent,
but what good is money if I'm six feet under in the desert?
Eh, I should have listened to my mother,
stayed in university to finish that sociology degree.
Then I'd be drowning in a ton of job offers.
Handing out fliers, or night watchman, or even a dishwasher.
And maybe I'd be a little smarter.
Dynia, listen to me. It's not too late for you yet, my brother.
First of all, I don't mind being an idiot.
Second of all,
would you have a ride like this after college?
All right. Fine, you convinced me.
I won't complain. Wait, or I'm gonna puke.
Okay, turn it off. We have some losers to go shoot.
Phew, thank God the situation's totally under control.
That was a real close one.
Domino, what I should do is take this hose and shove it up your stupid…
…asshole. Um, hello?
Whoa. What do you mean?
You saw for yourself that I sorted all that stupid bullshit out.
Okay, dude, but it's gonna cost you the same amount.
On my way.
Okay, morons, finish this yourselves.
I'm off to the club 'cause they're dealing with that shit again.
Boss, are you sure? Why don't I go along with you and help you out?
No fucking way. I'd rather get anally probed by ET.
-But… -Come on, man.
You were only supposed to water the garden,
and you almost cut off my goddamn fingers with the freakin' mower
and set the gazebo on fire.
I got your ass, you motherfucker.
Just how many more of these stupid drug dealers do I have to kill
before they get the fucking picture?
What the hell is going on?
I can't believe it.
He even put LED lights in this shit to look like eyes.
Why would anyone go to all that trou--
-Got him! -Very good. Now take him to hell.
Oh, but grab the lights. They are from my bike.
What the fuck happened?
Where the fuck am I?
In deep shit. Or even better. Welcome to Hell, brother!
Whoever raises their hand against the cartel,
gets a bullet in their fucking fat hand.
Hang on. It should've been "in their fat head".
Never mind. By hook or cock-- I mean crook.
You have about five seconds left to live, my friend.
Got any last wishes before we kill you?
Yeah. Put that goddamn gun up to your stupid, ugly head
and pull the trigger, you demon scum.
That's it? Huh!
Diarea, wait.
He could be trying to set you up.
Wait. You are right.
Sorry, buddy, I don't trust you.
So we're going to skip this part of the program.
You ready?
Three…
two…
uh, three…
Hold on, it's hard to count backwards. Let's do this.
One, two--
He's only brave 'cause he's holding a gun.
Why don't you put that kiddie toy down
and fight me with your shitty little hands like a real man.
Do you actually think you would even stand a chance?
Knockout in the first round. Let's go!
This fucking guy is all bark and no bite.
You little shit, you asked for it.
-Diarea. -Just a moment.
Ahh! Death match!
Didn't I say?
Ahh!
Didn't I warn you?
Maybe I should just shoot him, you think?
Don't you dare! I can win the match on points.
Attack!
You had enough yet?
I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.
We will keep fighting each other until one of us takes their death shit.
Hands in the air, you dickheads!
Er…
Oh crap, not the right guy. Okay, I'll have better aim this time.
Fu-- Whatever.
Third time's gonna be the charm.
Once again out of ammunition.
The tables have finally turned, motherfucker.
Any last wishes before I kill you?
Yeah, lend me your gun for just a moment, would ya?
Uh… All right then. A last request is a sacred thing.
THE END