When we last left our heroes, Big Time Hollywood Director Barry Sonnenfeld and self-proclaimed “best actor of this generation/golden god of the soundtrack game” Will Smith had been kicked out of their respective homes by their respective wives, thus leading them to decide to move in together. Today’s transcript picks up pretty much where the last one left off.
For those of you just joining the party, do yourself a favor and catch up on the past adventures of Will Smith here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.
For now, enjoy today’s transcript.
(Barry Sonnenfeld enters his apartment, carrying two bags of groceries, and finds Will Smith sitting on their couch eating spicy pork rinds, watching the hit Jonathon Silverman sitcom “The Single Guy.”)
Will Smith: Aw shit, Sonnenfeld. I had a feeling you were gone hit up the Safeway. Your boy is feelin’ mighty peckish, so you best pull those Eggo’s out that bag and hook a brotha up.
Barry Sonnenfeld: First of all, I’ve learned my lesson; no more foods you can steal. Nothing but canned foods from now…
WS: …Bitch, you think I can’t steal a can?
BS: …Second, if you’re so hungry, why don’t you just finish up those chicarrones you’ve got there?
WS: Chi-Cha-What?
BS: It’s the Spanish word for pork rinds.
WS: Por-Rin-What?
BS: Pork rinds, Will. It’s that bag of junk food that’s on your lap. I’ll never understand how you can eat that garbage. You know that’s just deep-fried pig skin?
WS: You need to watch it, “Mr. Do-You-Know-What’s-In-A-Hotdog.” I believe in the free market, and Ill take my chances letting it tell me what to eat.
BS: The free market doesn’t want you to be healthy. If you keep eating like this, you’re running a serious risk of heart disease.
WS: Shit, my dad dies of heart diseases. And my gramps. And my Big Momma. And two of my cousins. And my original DJ.
BS: DJ Acid Jazzy Pete?
WS: Dude was whack (Will does the “sign of the cross”).
BS: Riddle me this: what did all those people have in common?
WS: I don’t follow. How is that a riddle?
BS: It’s just an expression. Did all those people eat a lot of junk food?
WS: Shit yeah, the stuff’s delicious.
BS: Do you understand where I’m going with this?
WS: Oh most definitely. I need to eat more Subway sandwiches. You know my favorite Subway sandwich? The B.M.T.
BS: Probably not the healthiest sandwich on their menu. I’d go with the Veggie Delight.
WS: You know what B.M.T. stands for?
BS: Sure don’t.
WS: “Big, Meaty, Tasty.” You believe that shit? There’s not even a person, place, or thing word in there.
BS: A noun?
WS: That’s it. You know what else I like that’s big, meaty, and tasty?
BS: Please don’t say “your mother’s titties.”
WS: Yo momma’s titties. Five dollars a foot.
BS: I have no idea what that even means.
WS: Me neither. I just thought it sounded insulting, like I paid five bucks to suck on your mommy’s teat.
BS: As much as I hate to change the subject…
WS: (under his breath)…Why you doin’ it then, bitch?
BS: …I think we need to have a talk.
WS: Oh shit. Did I forget to flush again?
BS: Yes, but that’s not what I’m worried about right now. Right now, I’m a little concerned that all of our furniture appears to have been moved. Do you know anything about this?
WS: Nope. I surely do not know anything about nothing like that. No, sir.
BS: Will…
WS: Alright, B-Feld. You got me. I’m not match for your mad detectiving skills.
BS: Why, Will? Why?
WS: Why what?
BS: For one, why is our TV upside down?
WS: I’m trying to train my brain to automatically flip pictures that I see that happen to be upside down.
BS: I’m going to regret asking this, but for God’s sake, why?
WS: Two words: Mission Impossible.
BS: You mean the movie?
WS: Damn right. My career needs a kick in the pants and making movie after movie with you sure as shit ain’t doin’ it.
BS: First of all, that’s hurtful. Second, I’m pretty sure that Tom Cruise has that role locked down. Plus, the lead is a white guy. I mean, he was originally played by Peter Graves.
WS: Racism! Racism! That’s it; I’m blowing the racism whistle (pulls out a black whistle and blows it very loudly and obnoxiously).
BS: Will! Will! (Whistle blowing stops) I really wish you’d get rid of that thing. It’s just you and me here; I’m sure all you’re doing with that whistle is annoying the neighbors.
WS: You know what annoys me? The soft racism of diminished expectations, bitch. Shit, I’m at least 14 times the actor that Tom Cruise is. Plus, I can play white. Check this out: “Hello, friend. What a lovely day it is today. Can I trouble you for a carbonated beverage? I agree, black people’s hair does look funny.”
BS: Looks like I should get a “racism whistle” of my own.
WS: What does that mean?
BS: It means that your portrayal of a white person is just as racist as me saying that you can’t reprise Peter Graves’ role.
WS: Shit, I can’t be a racist. Ain’t no such thing as a black racist.
BS: We’re going to have to agree to disagree. But I have to ask you: what’s going on with the drapes.
WS: I can’t say that I know what you’re getting at.
BS: Well, if I didn’t know any better, I would say that the drapes are no longer covering our windows, but now seem to be obscuring our fireplace.
WS: That’s right.
BS: I don’t get how that’s going to help you land the Mission Impossible role.
WS: That’s actually about something else. I don’t want to give away too much just yet, but let’s just say I found a way for us to never pay taxes again.
BS: As a roommate, I’m very curious about what’s going on in my home; but as a human, I’m pretty sure whatever you’re up to is wildly illegal and horribly immoral, and knowing what you’re up to would make me an accesso…
WS: …I’m starting my own religion.
BS: I applaud your initiative, but I fail to see what that has to do with our drapes.
WS: Have you ever heard of “fun shway?”
BS: I think it’s called “feng shui.”
WS: Not when I do it. When I do it, it’s fun as shit.
BS: What’s the point of your religion? What do you even believe in? What are your tenants?
WS: I haven’t worked that out just yet. I figured I would just make it up as I go along.
BS: I think that’s how Judaism was started.
WS: Got any ideas for me?
BS: Oh no. I want no part of this. If you need me, I’m going to be hiding in my room, waiting for this whole thing to blow over.
(Barry goes into his room)
BS: Will, can you tell me what happened to my bed? (No answer) Will! WILL!
