Post by Lord Hastings on Jul 30, 2009 20:30:11 GMT -5
Donovan and Owen Peterson are walking through the tunnel in the airport in Brazil. Owen has a completely opened pamphlet.
Hastings: Would you put that away? You make the Lord look like a tourist.
Peterson: We ARE tourists.
Hastings: Nevermind that, Niglet. What does it say about the rental car.
Peterson: Um, I've got something about San Paulo Car Rental.
Hastings: What city are we even in?
Peterson: It says we should make a reservation with a travel agent at least a month ahead of time if we want to be able to rent something.
Hastings: Oops.
Peterson: A month ago I still had job security.
Hastings: Don't flatter yourself. Let's ask that guy.
Donovan gets the attention of a passing by Brazilian.
Hastings: You! Your Lord needs to rent a car.
Native: Eu não falo o inglês.
Hastings: Explain it to him.
Peterson sighs.
Peterson: You mad stupid beeotch! We bad ass mudda fuckers, we's need ta rent ourselves uh `64. The Lord-Chief, he about ta win dat big title, an' he can't be delayed in uh run down shithole like dis here. Slap mah fro!
Native: Estrangeiros.
He walks away.
Hastings: Fool! He's not going to understand Nigga!
Peterson: What did you want me to say? We needo un car-oh?
Hastings: Surely you jest.
Peterson: Oh, of course. We needo un car-oh, and don't make me get my gat-o?
Hastings: They don't speak Spanish in Brazil. How about trying "Nós necessidade automóvel."
Peterson: You speak Portugese?
Hastings: Yeah.
Peterson: Then what the fuck are you making me do this bullshit for?
Hastings: Hello? Lord-Chief.
Peterson: Lord of Ass.
Hastings: What's that?
Peterson: I hope there is a church down here, I don't want to miss Mass.
Hastings: Just keep reading the brochure.
Peterson: They might not let us take the car over the country border.
Hastings: After our show in the Maracanazinhohoho Arena? You know, I imagine in backwater countries like this one, they don't pay much attention to traffic laws anyway.
Peterson: I imagine you know of frontwater countries.
Hastings: Now you're being rediculous. My point is, we can make a break for the border.
[glow=red,2,300][/glow]
Hastings: Whoops, sorry.
Donovan clicks the tape player off.
Hastings: Gotta love disembodied voice. It's like cowbell.
Peterson: Speaking of Break for the Border...you worried about it?
Hastings: Nah, I've got Roberts right where I want him. This is my time, Niglet. It's my answer to destiny's call. The coming of inevitability that-
Peterson: I meant the swine flu.
Hastings: They loaded Vinegar into a catapult?
Peterson: You know what I mean.
Hastings: I'd be more worried about catching something from that noisy midget.
Peterson: Penguin Flu?
Hastings: Not even if he flaps his wings real hard. Ho!
Donovan slaps Peterson on the back.
Peterson: This is not my life.
Hastings: Seriously, though. We need a fucking rental car.
Peterson: I'll go look.
Hastings: I'll find you, I'm grabbing a bite.
Peterson: Ok.
Peterson puts his hand out. Donovan stares at it.
Hastings: I've told you. No low-fives.
Peterson: Can I have my cell phone so we can find each other?
Donovan glances around.
Hastings: We're not exactly in Harlem, here. I think I can pick you out of the crowd.
Peterson: You said I could call my wife after we got settled!
Hastings: And I'm decidedly unsettled without a rental car. So how about you get on that, and I'm gonna see if I can find a Red Bull.
Peterson: You're going to drink a Red Bull?
Hastings: I'm going to start shaking it up now, and spray it in Boolz's face on Sentinel.
Peterson: You're hung up on that.
Hastings: Whatever works. Agora vá adquirir o carro de maldição.
Peterson: What?
Hastings: Get the fucking car.
Owen nods and walks off. Donovan glances around.
Hastings: They don't sell burritos?
Hastings: Would you put that away? You make the Lord look like a tourist.
Peterson: We ARE tourists.
Hastings: Nevermind that, Niglet. What does it say about the rental car.
Peterson: Um, I've got something about San Paulo Car Rental.
Hastings: What city are we even in?
Peterson: It says we should make a reservation with a travel agent at least a month ahead of time if we want to be able to rent something.
Hastings: Oops.
Peterson: A month ago I still had job security.
Hastings: Don't flatter yourself. Let's ask that guy.
Donovan gets the attention of a passing by Brazilian.
Hastings: You! Your Lord needs to rent a car.
Native: Eu não falo o inglês.
Hastings: Explain it to him.
Peterson sighs.
Peterson: You mad stupid beeotch! We bad ass mudda fuckers, we's need ta rent ourselves uh `64. The Lord-Chief, he about ta win dat big title, an' he can't be delayed in uh run down shithole like dis here. Slap mah fro!
Native: Estrangeiros.
He walks away.
Hastings: Fool! He's not going to understand Nigga!
Peterson: What did you want me to say? We needo un car-oh?
Hastings: Surely you jest.
Peterson: Oh, of course. We needo un car-oh, and don't make me get my gat-o?
Hastings: They don't speak Spanish in Brazil. How about trying "Nós necessidade automóvel."
Peterson: You speak Portugese?
Hastings: Yeah.
Peterson: Then what the fuck are you making me do this bullshit for?
Hastings: Hello? Lord-Chief.
Peterson: Lord of Ass.
Hastings: What's that?
Peterson: I hope there is a church down here, I don't want to miss Mass.
Hastings: Just keep reading the brochure.
Peterson: They might not let us take the car over the country border.
Hastings: After our show in the Maracanazinhohoho Arena? You know, I imagine in backwater countries like this one, they don't pay much attention to traffic laws anyway.
Peterson: I imagine you know of frontwater countries.
Hastings: Now you're being rediculous. My point is, we can make a break for the border.
[glow=red,2,300][/glow]
Hastings: Whoops, sorry.
Donovan clicks the tape player off.
Hastings: Gotta love disembodied voice. It's like cowbell.
Peterson: Speaking of Break for the Border...you worried about it?
Hastings: Nah, I've got Roberts right where I want him. This is my time, Niglet. It's my answer to destiny's call. The coming of inevitability that-
Peterson: I meant the swine flu.
Hastings: They loaded Vinegar into a catapult?
Peterson: You know what I mean.
Hastings: I'd be more worried about catching something from that noisy midget.
Peterson: Penguin Flu?
Hastings: Not even if he flaps his wings real hard. Ho!
Donovan slaps Peterson on the back.
Peterson: This is not my life.
Hastings: Seriously, though. We need a fucking rental car.
Peterson: I'll go look.
Hastings: I'll find you, I'm grabbing a bite.
Peterson: Ok.
Peterson puts his hand out. Donovan stares at it.
Hastings: I've told you. No low-fives.
Peterson: Can I have my cell phone so we can find each other?
Donovan glances around.
Hastings: We're not exactly in Harlem, here. I think I can pick you out of the crowd.
Peterson: You said I could call my wife after we got settled!
Hastings: And I'm decidedly unsettled without a rental car. So how about you get on that, and I'm gonna see if I can find a Red Bull.
Peterson: You're going to drink a Red Bull?
Hastings: I'm going to start shaking it up now, and spray it in Boolz's face on Sentinel.
Peterson: You're hung up on that.
Hastings: Whatever works. Agora vá adquirir o carro de maldição.
Peterson: What?
Hastings: Get the fucking car.
Owen nods and walks off. Donovan glances around.
Hastings: They don't sell burritos?
