anchor: And as we look
at Democracy Plaza, NBC News projecting
that Donald Trump is the apparent winner
in Florida. - [garbled muttering]
anchor: Donald Trump the apparent winner
in Florida. It's a state...
- [continued muttering] anchor: That he calls
a must win, and he appears... - Can't understand you, boss.
- [exhales heavily] anchor: To be winning it.
29 electoral votes. - I said,
it's like some New World Order shit, man.
If Trump wins,
it's gonna be fucking bedlam, dude.
The libs are gonna go crazy.
It's gonna be civil fucking war.
Ah, but lucky for you dumb fucks,
I come prepared.
Check this out.
- Cool. A super heavy backpack.
- Oh, yeah.
It's just a simple little backpack,
and I'm a tourist girl
out there on my spring break,
strolling around Amsterdam, seeing the sights,
checking out the canals.
Oh, fuck, here comes some Serbian dude.
He's gonna drug me and sell my virginity
on somebody's yacht, except...
boom! [chuckles]
Bulletproof vest, baby.
And I'm not some stupid bitch. I'm Rodney Lamonca.
You don't traffic me.
I traffic you, motherfucker.
Auction's on my yacht now!
- Where did you even get these?
- Fucking Kickstarter, dude.
It was invented my some marine
after getting dishonorably discharged
for too many kills.
Explain that to me.
Ooh, lightning rod.
Check this shit out.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa.
What the fuck are you doing? - I'ma shoot you,
make sure these motherfuckers work.
- Man, put that down, man. - Just relax.
These are safe.
This is level three-plus body armor.
- It's just from Kickstarter. It barely fits.
- Please let me shoot you!
Please, I want to shoot you so badly.
- Just put that down, okay? Just put it down.
And what the hell, man? Just--
- [groans] Fine.
I won't shoot you, you big baby.
- Thank you. - Here.
You're gonna shoot me. - What?
- Come on.
- Look, I'm not shooting anyone.
- I'm not afraid.
Fear is a reaction.
Courage is a choice.
- Seriously, just-- just cut it out, come on.
- If anything goes wrong,
Noah will say that I made you pull the trigger.
- Rodney, stop. - Come on.
Boss up. - No.
- Listen to me-- - No.
- Boss up, and pull the trigger.
- I'm not shooting you. - Boss up and shoot me!
- Stop. Rodney, I'm not-- - Boss up and shoot me!
- Rodney!
- Boss up and shoot me, you motherfucker.
- I'm not-- - Boss the fuck up
and shoot me, come on! [gunshot]
- Oh! [grunts]
- [laughs]
I came. Oh, I came!
Fuck! Oh.
My heart feels like it's been fucking.
- You're--you're crazy, man.
You crazy. - [chuckles]
Haters call me crazy.
Smart people call me for advice.
Martin Luther King said that.
- I'm pretty sure Martin Luther King
didn't talk about haters. - Yeah he did.
It was his whole thing.
Racists are the ultimate haters, dude.
- Rodney... [chuckles]
Shoot me. - Whoo.
Look whose hairy little balls finally dropped.
All right.
- I'm ready. - [chuckles]
Stand by for the good stuff.
[gunshot] Whoops.
Noah?
- What the fuck? What did you do, Rodney?
- [choking]
- Breathe, you motherfucker!
Fucking breathe!
Boss up and breathe, you motherfucker.
- He's got a hole in his neck.
I don't think he can "boss up."
- Breathe. Huh? - He got a hole in his neck.
He can't "boss up." - Would you shut the fuck up?
I don't need that negative energy right now.
It's very poisonous, all right, Isaiah?
I'm trying to focus on saving his life.
- Brah. - No, no.
- I think you killed him, brah.
- Well, it's 'cause he moved, all right?
I was aiming right here,
and he sneezed or some fucking shit.
This motherfucker.
Noah with his goddamn weak sinuses.
Mm. Fuck.
[inhales and exhales]
Oh, God, do something.
No one needs to know about this, okay?
Nobody can find out what happened here.
Katrina finds out that I killed her son,
she's gonna be very upset with me.
- What the fuck? What the fuck?
This is your son?
- It's her son from her first marriage.
- Oh...
- And we never would have been in this position
if she would have let me cut him out of our lives.
- Okay, you know what? This seems more like a--
like a family issue, so I'ma leave you to it.
All right? - Oh. Oh, no.
- I'ma head down and get out. - Are you fucking kidding me?
Where do you think you're going?
Hey, hey, hey.
[chuckles]
Now don't you forget,
it's your fingerprints on this trigger.
- Okay, but then yours, too,
from when you shot him. - [chuckles]
Well, who do you think the cops are gonna believe
when they come strolling in here, huh?
Some common criminal or a celeb business titan
who auctions his wife off
at the police gala every year, huh?
There it is.
There's my big boy's brain working.
So we understand each other?
Now, what you're gonna do--
you're gonna clean up this mess.
You're gonna get rid of the body.
You're gonna make it disappear like it never happened.
'Cause if Katrina finds out about this...
that's bad news for me.
And if it's bad news for me,
oh, brother, is it big bad news for you.
You understand what I'm implying?
That means I'm gonna kill you. - Okay.
- It means I'm gonna put this...
- Yeah. - Bullet in your brain.
That means I'm gonna paint my walls
with your blood. - I fucking get it, man.
- Okay, I'm sorry. It's just,
effective messaging is all about repetition.
That's a little sales tip for you.
- Cool, thanks.
- Call me when it's done.
[subdued music]
* *
- Fuck.
* *
Shit.
This motherfucker.
Fix your stupid mess.
[grunts]
[cell phone ringing]
Ah, shit.
Yo. - What's your status?
- Still cleaning up the blood.
It's kind of a lengthy process, you know?
- Okay, I had this great idea.
I want you to take Noah's phone
and send me a text
that makes it sound like
he's gonna hurt himself, right?
Something like, uh,
"Hey, Dad, I bought a new gun..."
[chuckles] "And, uh, I can't wait
"to try it out, but I'm pretty dumb,
so I don't know how to use it."
- Or he could say he's, like, been feeling, like,
I don't know, depressed?
- [chuckling] Yeah, he's like, he's gonna kill himself.
That's fucking great.
Just scroll through his texts.
You'll see the dumb way he talks.
I gotta go.
- Facial recognition?
[sighs]
[subdued music]
* *
[grimaces]
* *
[phone beeps] [grunts]
Okay.
* *
"Hey, Dad. Been feeling kind of down.
Might go away for a while. Love you."
* *
[cell phone ringing]
Yo. - [chuckles] Hey.
That read beautifully. I bought that bullshit.
And if you need more inspiration
to not fuck this up,
check your messages.
- The fuck?
- "Always remember my golden rule:
do unto others until they do unto you."
Rodney Lamonca said that.
Copyright Rodney Lamonca.
"Mo' money, no problems."
That's a quote from Rodney Lamonca.
Copyright Rodney Lamonca.
- [grunts]
[tense music]
* *
God, fuck.
* *
Come on. [door slams]
* *
[grunts] Motherfucker.
[grunting] Okay.
[engine revs]
* *
- Where's your helmet?
- Yeah, um, I only had one,
and my buddy needed a ride home.
You know, it's his birthday.
He might have overdid it a little.
Sucks being a DD.
- Wear your helmet next time.
[announcer talking indistinctly on phone]
- Oh, damn.
Looks like somebody got lucky. [chuckles]
- [grunts]
Aw, shit. That's a dead man.
- I gotta go to the hardware store.
Watch him for me.
- Wait--
What's good, dead man?
- * Hold up *
* How you gonna say you 'bout to blow up? *
- Now, don't put too much in there,
or else it's gonna be too heavy.
- I--I--I'm sorry.
Is drowning corpses an area of expertise for you?
- Well, you know I did install that basketball hoop
for my nephew that one time.
Seems similar.
- * I think you really need to grow up *
* I was gonna get along this the song *
* Gotta make the crowd get lit along *
* Me and bullshitters gonna get along *
* Never known the hand that couldn't get along *
* I was on the ground for a long time *
- [grunting]
How long does this shit take to dry?
- It says 40-60 minutes.
- What the fuck am I gonna do for an hour?
[phone game noises]
All right.
It's gotta be fucking set by now.
Let's see what we got.
Oh, shit. All right.
Oh, shit.
I got it.
Help me get him to the car, man.
- Shit, not with my back.
I--I could-- Well, I'm a good watcher.
I could watch you, make sure you're doing
a good job, dude.
You're not doing a good job right now.
You're about to drop him.
- I cannot put him on my bike like this.
I need to borrow your car.
Yo, pop the trunk? - Oh, he--
he ain't gonna fit in the trunk, man.
- What you mean he ain't gonna fit?
- I got some new subwoofers put in.
- Subwoofers?
How big are the fucking subwoofers?
- Big.
- Where the fuck am I supposed to put him?
[uneasy music]
* *
[frogs croaking]
* *
Hey, no, no, no no. No, no, no!
Fuck!
- [indistinct muttering]
[grunting]
[breathing heavily]
Yo, Big C.
Cregory. What's goodie?
- I see you. - [chuckles]
- Nice ride.
Why you all dressed up?
What kind of favor you need at dawn?
- A big one.
- What the fuck?
What the fuck, Zay?
Why are you chauffeuring around a dead body
in a pimpmobile? - This is your fault.
I've been working with Rodney Lamonca...
- What? - And I wouldn't even
have met his crazy ass
if you hadn't invited me to Dominine.
- Youinvited you to Dominine.
And you only went so you could hustle the attendees.
- Why are you hung up on a business conference
from yesterday when there's a body
in your driveway now?
Now come one, we've gotta live for the moment.
We got a mess on our hands. - "We"?
I don't have anything to do with this.
- Well, actually--
I don't know how to say this.
I thought I could control Rodney.
All right? I thought he was an idiot.
And he is.
And I've seen him do some scary shit.
And if I don't get rid of this body,
he gonna hurt me, Craig.
And you, and Nessa--
- What the fuck are you talking about, Zay?
- He texted me this.
- A photo of Nessa and me?
Rodney Lamonca texted you that?
- I don't know where he got it from,
and I don't even know how he even knows about you guys,
but if--if I don't-- [sighs]
Look, I'm so sorry, man.
I never wanted you to be a part of this, bro.
I'm so-- - Shit, shit, shit.
Camille. What's up, girl?
- [vocalizing]
- Sh--she wants to know why you're all dressed up.
- Um, I was at a rooftop party with Pitbull,
and I tried to leave, but Pitbull made me stay.
You know how Pitbull is.
- Anyway, we gotta go. Brother business.
- * Overtime, push, got a point to prove *
- Dear Black Jesus,
please do not let us get caught with this dead white man
in this stupid gold car.
In Black Jesus' name we pray. Amen.
- You finished?
Now will you please help me figure out
what we're gonna do with this dude?
- It's gonna be a pretty fucking short conversation,
considering I don't know anything
about how to dispose of a body.
- Except the whole reason I came to you
is because you're actually mad qualified
to wingman with me on this.
See, we're gonna feed this dead man to a snake.
- What?
- Ain't that what your whole python hunt is for?
Ain't these fuckers eat, like, everything up?
Why not this dude?
- I don't even know if they eat humans.
They eat, like, rats and alligators,
and one time a baby, I think,
but I didn't want to watch that video,
so I don't know. [phone ringing]
Shit, it's Jillian G.
We're supposed to go snake hunting this morning.
- Okay, well just tell her that something better popped up.
- Well, I don't want to hurt her feelings.
- Her feelings? [scoffs]
What is with you and this girl?
- Nothing.
I like her. She's my friend.
She's loyal and good.
- Loyal and good. What is she, a knight?
- She just doesn't think my dreams are stupid, okay?
[phone ringing]
What's up, Jillian?
- What's going on, partner in crime?
It's fun how we can say that now and mean it
because we committed the crime of arson.
- We don't have to talk about that.
- But I thought you said you took care of
the insurance guy? - That is correct.
But I'm in the car with Isaiah,
and we are on speaker. - Oh.
Hi, Isaiah.
When I said arson before,
I was speaking metaphorically.
Business fires. You get it.
- Not really.
- The flames of industry.
- Anyway, I know we were supposed to go hunting,
but I'm feeling sick,
and Zay is taking me to urgent care.
- Oh, no, what's wrong?
- Just got a terrible headache.
- I once had a headache
that lasted for an entire month.
Turned out I had aluminium poisoning
from eating too many old cans of beans.
- I don't think that's the case here.
- You should definitely get it looked at
and eat fewer beans.
Fewer beans and newer beans. That's my motto.
- Thank you, Jillian G.
Look, I'm sorry to bail on you like this.
- Not a problem.
And let me know if you need anything.
- Gee, that took long enough.
Now will you please Google "Will snake eat white boy?"
- Not under those search terms.
"Pythons' jaws are connected by flexible ligaments,
"allowing them to swallow animals
up to six times their size." - Mm.
- "Their stomach acids can dissolve bone..."
- Okay. - "Flesh..."
- Yes. - "And feathers completely..."
- All right. - "In a matter of weeks."
- Aw, yeah.
That's some "Breaking Bad" shit right there.
That's what I'm talking about. Who needs bathtub acid?
- All right, slow down, Walter not-White.
"While pythons can sometimes eat people,
"the restricting factor is human shoulder blades
because they're not collapsible."
- We'll just cut the dude up.
- Oh, is that what we'll do?
"We'll just cut the dude up"?
- I see.
Language getting a little too real?
Okay, what if I were to say,
"we gonna break him down like a box"?
- Not better. - Roll him like a tenderloin?
- No. - Fold him in half
like a pizza slice.
- Yeah, let's go with the pizza slice.
- [chuckles] My man.
- Ah, there are other problems.
"Pythons can't digest clothing made of synthetic fabrics."
- Okay, we just strip the dude naked
and burn his clothes.
- "When swallowing,
"pythons need to reduce friction.
"If the meal is too big, they will be unable
to get it down without lubrication."
- There's a simple solution for that.
- How simple?
- I--
What can I say? I'm nuts about coconuts.
[knocking on window]
- Craig, get snacks!
- What? - Snacks! Food snacks.
- Snacks? Seriously?
[sighs]
- Aw, shit.
Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse.
- What? What happened?
You got the onion flavor.
You know I only fuck with smokehouse.
- We have a dead body in the back seat, Zay.
Can you please take this seriously?
- I'm just trying to get through this, brah.
Let me do me.
So this is my big bro's office.
- We should be far enough out now.
- Time to get naked, my man.
- Can we at least leave his underwear on?
- That depends if his undies are made
out of synthetic fabric, doesn't it?
- [sighs]
- Oh, ho, ho.
All-natural cotton briefs.
This is huge for us. Why you not smiling?
Oh, it's because you hate being in the swamp
with a naked corpse? I see.
- Can we lube him up already? - Yeah, yeah, for sure.
For sure, get my man nice and slick--
Seriously, Cregory? Coconut oil?
- I thought the snakes might like the scent.
- This shit is rock hard. It's useless.
- One of us can melt it with our hands.
The other one slathers it on his body.
- You had one job to do, and you failed at it.
Matter of fact, two jobs, two failures.
I forgot about the Funyuns.
- Oh, well, then if those were my only jobs,
then I should leave because-- - Craig?
Craig! Is that you? - Shit.
- Craig!
- Jillian G.!
[softly] You done yet?
- Almost. - Hurry up.
- Craig!
I can hear you, but I can't see you.
- Me too, Jillian G.
- Y'all did arson together.
Y'all crime friends. Just tell her what's up.
- I'm not gonna get another innocent person
caught up in this, Isaiah.
- Hey! - Hey.
- I saw that gold car,
so I pulled over to check it out,
and then I heard you talking.
I thought you were sick.
- I--I was.
But then my headache went away.
- Something better came up.
- Something better? - Not better. Different.
- Look, Jillian, the truth is,
we're out here having an emotional conversation
about our dad's death.
Shit's getting earnest.
Might be hard for you to relate.
- Are you kidding?
My father died.
I've been waiting forever
for Craig to open up about this to me.
Do you guys ever get that feeling
where you see a homeless man on the street,
and he's got a really thick beard,
but underneath it could be your dad?
And you know it isn't,
but you still invite the guy to lunch.
And then he starts fighting the dogs at the café,
so you've got-- - What do you need, Jillian G.?
- Um, well, if you're feeling better,
we should probably get back to the hunt, right?
I mean, I don't want to be a nag, you know?
I'm a guy's girl. I'm cool.
Football, hanging out, cigars.
But we are really far behind.
And I know Condom Carl got disqualified,
but we're coming in third.
We're losing to Lou from Tampa.
- Can we talk about this later?
- Okay, but, um, I really need us to win
and then to start the business and for that to become
very successful very quickly,
because something has come up, and it's--
- Yeah, stuff comes up, Jillian G.
Stuff comes up for all of us.
I can't deal with everyone else's shit.
Your problems aren't my problems.
I'm sorry, but they're not.
- No. It's fine.
I can take it. I'm tough.
Do you not hear my rugged Australian accent?
- Just go home.
- You don't want me here.
It's lucky I'm so tough and Australian,
because, uh, this might be sort of a difficult moment
for a more sensitive person or an American.
Bye.
- Fuck. I feel so bad.
She's like the only friend
I've made in my adulthood.
- You shouldn't feel bad.
You should feel embarrassed.
One friend ain't enough friends.
I have 17 friends.
- Stop fucking making jokes.
- Okay, simmer down.
- Simmer down?
Which part should I simmer down about?
The dead body we about to break down like a box?
- No, we went with the pizza plan.
- That's not better. - You love pizza.
- It's all just mutilating a corpse.
Fuck, Zay. My life is in danger.
My daughter's life is in danger.
- Oh, damn.
I did say that, didn't I?
Well, uh, good news: that's not real.
- What?
- Yeah, Rodney doesn't know anything about you or Nessa.
You can relax.
- What about the picture he texted?
- I took that.
Look, here.
Here's the text of what Rodney
actually sent me.
- You lied to me?
About Nessa?
[sighs heavily]
Oh, I was so scared.
Zay, what the fuck is wrong with you?
Why didn't you just tell me the truth?
I would have helped you.
- Really?
You won't even bring me to the airport.
- I was in Orlando.
You gave me five minutes' notice.
- Still said no.
- I'm always taking care of you,
ever since we was kids.
- Yeah, that's the thing.
You think that, but you didn't.
Were you at my first basketball game?
- Yes.
- My graduation? - Yes.
- When I lost my virginity, Craig?
- No. - Mm-hmm.
- Agh! - Oh, my God, man.
You're so fucking dramatic.
- You're so fucking immature.
Always with the jokes.
Even when Dad died. - Here we go.
Here we go with this shit.
- You switched out the hymnal pages
at his funeral.
Grandma almost sang "Fuck tha Police."
- That would have been pretty funny.
- Our father was lying in a box,
and you didn't give a shit.
You've never given a shit about anyone
or anything. You're a fucking sociopath.
I swear to God, if you were not my brother,
I wouldn't even fuck with you.
- Man, you really--
you really believe that? You think I didn't care
that my dad died when I was ten years old?
- You never showed it.
- It was the worst day of my life.
I just wasn't sobbing like you.
- Then why didn't you talk to me about it?
- Because I was fucking mad.
I was mad at you for snitching on me
with that fucking Jolly Rancher.
I was mad at Pops for even going back into that store.
I was mad at Mom for marrying a--
a fucking loser who didn't have a dime to his name.
I was mad at that-- that lowlife piece of shit
who shot him. But I knew--I knew,
even as a kid, that if I let it,
that anger would bury me.
It would drag me into the dirt.
So yeah--so yeah, I-- I stuffed it down.
And I put on my fucking armor,
and I told my fucking jokes.
[soft music]
* *
Man, but armor don't stop every bullet, man.
My anger's still there, and I've carried it with me
my entire life.
So-- so since you're wondering--
since you're wondering, Craig,
that's what the fuck is wrong with me.
I didn't ask for this pain.
I didn't ask for that dead body, either.
But now I've got them both, and I don't know how
to get rid of either fucking one.
- Zay... - Fuck.
- Listen--
- I'm listening. - Shh, shh, shh.
[snake gulping]
I guess we not gonna have to fold him up
after all.
- So we good?
- I don't know.
This shit seems like it's gonna take a while.
- We talking about the snake or stuff between us?
[snake continues to gulp]
- Both.
- Let's give him some space.
[sighs]
[drone buzzing]
[tense music]
Oh, no. - What the fuck?
["Oh Shit" by The Pharcyde playing]
* *
- * Oh, shit * - * Oh, shit *
- No!
- * Oh, shit *
- Egh. - * Oh, shit *
- * Oh, shit *
- * Oh, little Sally Walker sitting in a saucer *
* Oh, how I tossed that ass up *
* Like a mission in the woods *
* Woody Woodpecker would if he could *
* But I didn't wanna pass it up *
* To the next man, had my Walkman bumping *
* On the fifty-yard line and my adrenaline pumping *
* Like a killer thriller driller tiller *
* Out with the Miller brew fill her up
* Took it till the damn Dutch puked *
* Luke Skywalker ain't a sweet talker *
* So I got ill with my lightsaber *
* That came in one fancy flavor *
* My strange behavior led to an outburst *
* The night felt good but the day got worse *
* I thought I was alone Slim Tre the stowaway *
* With a brown-eyed bombshell that was dope enough to pay *
* I looked over my shoulder and my cover was peeled *
* But my whole school saying "Ooh" *
* And I'm busted for real *
- * He came and went at the same time *
- * Oh, shit * - * Oh, shit *
* *
- Son of a bitch, come on!
* *
- Not a doctor. Shh.