The Last Boy Scout

Green 88! Green 88!

Set! Hut!

Ladies and gentlemen, that ends the first half of play...

...with the score Cleveland, 17, Los Angeles, 10.

Let's go. Move, move!

Billy Cole.

- Billy Cole. - Your first half stunk!

Open the holes up. Get in there like hogs, like pigs!

- Billy Cole, you got a call on Line 3. - Come on, go out there in this half...

...and kick some butt! Let's get out of this town as a winner.

I hate Cleveland.

- Hello. - Hello, William. This is Milo.

There's a lot of money riding on this game.

You better start scoring some touchdowns, William.

Just do whatever it takes. Understood?

Or else you're history.

Welcome back to the second half. We're in Cleveland...

...site of tonight's confrontation between the L.A. Stallions and the Cleveland Cats.

I'm Vern Lundquist, along with Dick Butkus.

And yes, friends, it really is that wet.

Well, Vern, even though the Stallions trail 17 to 10...

...there walks a happy man:

Sheldon Marcone, owner of the L.A. Stallions.

His team sits atop the Western Division at 6 and 2.

Sheldon is standing by with Lynn Swann. Let's go down to them.

Forty-nine thousand, two hundred and fifty-six.

That's pretty poor attendance even for a night like this, wouldn't you say?

I wouldn't say, Lynn.

Perhaps then you can explain the drop-off in attendance and TV ratings.

Is this the death of professional football?

No, I think that we're witnessing the death of good journalism.

Mr. Marcone, are there any heroes left in this game?

What game are you watching? Let's talk about heroes.

Billy Cole is having the game of his life out there tonight.

Set! Set!

Hut! Hut!

First and 10 at the Cleveland 47-yard line.

- Way to go. - Good job. Good job.

First and 10, less than two minutes remaining.

This is probably L.A.'s final possession.

The Stallions need 7. A field goal will not do.

And Dick, you've got to be thinking, "Get the ball to Billy Cole."

Hut! Hut!

The pass is complete to Billy Cole.

Go, go, go!

Ain't life a bitch?

- Dude's trashed. - Shit, man.

We should do something to him.

Do it.

Goddamn. This dude is really trashed.

Go on. Take his watch.

He's got a gun!

Ugh.

This is Hallenbeck Investigations.

Leave your message at the beep.

Yo. Mike Matthews. I got a job for you.

Hold on. Hold on a minute.

- Mike. - Joe.

I thought you were still in Las Vegas. I was gonna leave a message on your machine.

You sound terrific. What'd you do last night?

Think I fucked a squirrel to death and I don't even remember.

Listen, Joe. You still taking charity?

- What do you got? - Stripper. Excuse me, exotic dancer.

She's got some weirdo hassling her and I'm booked solid.

She's hot, Joe. She rates a three on my finger scale.

That means I'd cut off three of my fingers if God would let me fuck her. Ha-ha.

Make her a one on your nose scale. Improve your looks.

Yeah, yeah. Eat me. So, listen, I'm booked. You got plans?

I'm thinking about smoking some cigarettes.

Could you postpone?

- These are pretty good cigarettes. - It's 500 bucks, Joe.

I gotta run some errands. Meet you at your office in an hour.

Terrific. Comb your hair. I'll lend you a nice jacket--

Nobody likes you.

Everybody hates you.

You're gonna lose.

Smile, you fuck.

Goddamn.

- Jimmy? - Yeah.

You're still here?

I guess I am.

Help me!

Yo, Ray. What's with the girl, man?

- Bitch won't blow me. - Help me.

It's too early in the morning for that shit. Let her go.

She ain't coming up till she starts blowing.

Ray, she's gonna drown, man.

- Hey, fuck you, you loser! - Let her go, Ray.

What are you doing here? This is a league party. You got kicked out, remember? Huh?

Remember?

You bastard!

- Come on, get out of here. - Pig!

You fuckhead!

- Aah. - Best arm in the National League.

Remember that, you fat son of a bitch.

Hey, Joe.

Thought you were in Las Vegas.

I was.

- Where'd you sleep? - The office.

Hey, Furry Tom.

How much did you lose?

- I wasn't there to gamble. - How much?

I was doing a skip trace.

Fifty bucks.

What is this?

Darian's class drew holiday pictures. That was hers.

Obviously, her teacher wants to see us.

- Where is she? - She's up at a friend's.

Boys still giving her a hard time about the braces?

Are you kidding?

"Metal mouth," that's the latest. Little bastards.

She'll be screwing them by the time she's 14.

- Watch your goddamn mouth. - Christ, Sarah.

You let her wear enough makeup. She looks like...

...a goddamn raccoon.

I come in the house, I think it's a burglar. I almost shot her twice.

You're not funny. And all the girls wear makeup.

I'm sure all the girls at that school don't put it on with a paint sprayer.

For your information...

- ...a lot of people think I'm very funny. - Yeah? Well, go live with them.

Don't tempt me.

Who's the guy in the closet?

Excuse me?

That's right. Sometimes you forget I'm a detective.

All this steam in the shower, like somebody was just in there.

Only your hair is dry. So it must be somebody else we're talking about.

A male somebody because the toilet seat's up.

Not under the bed, must've stuck him in the closet...

...when you heard my key hit the lock a day early.

So who's the guy in the closet?

Jesus Christ, nothing changes.

You're still a lunatic.

Gonna tell me who it is?

You want me to open the closet?

I'll do it, okay? And then we'll both know that you're a fucking psycho!

- Is that what you want, huh? - No.

Thank you.

That door stays shut.

What I'm gonna do is count to three.

- Then I'm gonna put a bullet in that door. - Oh, Jesus.

You can stop me any time by telling the truth.

- One. - Call your shrink, Joe.

- Call and tell him you're fucking losing it! - The truth is a beautiful thing.

- Two. - How dare you come into this house and--

- Three. - No!

- Look, Joe-- - Keeping her warm for me, Mike?

Easy. Don't do nothing dumb.

How was she?

On your finger scale, how was my wife?

- It just happened, Joe. It-- - Sure, sure, I know.

It just happened.

It could happen to anybody.

It was an accident, right? You tripped...

...slipped on the floor and accidentally stuck your dick in my wife.

"Oops. I'm so sorry, Mrs. H. I guess this just isn't my week."

- Joe, put the gun down, please. - Oh, yeah, the gun.

You know, Sarah, I think you're right.

I think I am losing it.

Get out of here.

Head or gut, Mike?

Joe, how long we been friends?

I'd say roughly till you started banging my wife.

Head or gut?

Gut.

- You got that address for me? - Huh?

The surveillance job.

You still want the job?

Five hundred bucks is 500 bucks, Mike.

Yeah. I guess you're right.

Cory, huh? Throw a shot into her too?

Get the fuck out of here. Go shit in your own yard.

Joe!

Over here.

Somebody wired the car.

Who the fuck did this, Joe?

Mr. Rogers.

How the hell should I know?

You told the cops--

I told them Mike came by to farm out a surveillance job this morning.

That's all?

You didn't mention...

No. I didn't mention it.

You knew, didn't you?

- I suspected. - Goddamn it.

Why didn't you say something?

What do you want me to say, Sarah? "Fuck you, Sarah"?

Yes. Yeah. Or anything to get a rise out of you.

How about, "You're a lying bitch"?

How about, "if there weren't cops here, I'd spit in your face"?

- You want me to spit on you? - It would show you had some pride left.

Fresh out, honey.

You know what? Fuck you, Joe. You were never around. I was lonely!

Buy a dog.

I'm not the one who hates you, Joe. You're the one who hates you.

And I get to live with myself 24 hours a day.

Gett off

23 positions in a one night stand

Gett off

Alex, the astronaut.

Alex, the astronaut.