The Messenger (Skit)

"THE MESSENGER" (SKIT)
KRAYZIE BONE

[A restaurant. Muzak playing in the background.]

The Messenger (Krayzie):
Aw shit. Excuse me man, excuse me.
Waiter:
Uh, yes sir?
The Messenger:
Could you tell me where the payphone at in here or somethin'?
Waiter:
Certainly. Back there by the wine racks.
The Messenger:
All right, thanks a lot. Thank you, thank you.
Waiter:
Oh, you're welcome sir.
The Messenger (to himself):
Shit. It's a classy-ass, muthafuckin' restaraunt. Know this muthafucka got the money, punk-muthafucka. Shit.
[Pick's up phone. Dialtone. Puts in money and dials. It rings at the other end.].
Person on other end of phone--his contact:
Hello?
The Messenger:
Yeah, hello?
Contact:
What's happenin'?
The Messenger:
Yeah, I'm in the muthafuckin' spot now, man . . .
Contact:
He there?
The Messenger:
. . . I don't see nobody yet, but I know the nigga'll be here. He got reservations.
Contact:
All right, handle your business.
The Messenger:
I think I see his broad comin' in right now . . .
Contact:
Right on time.
The Messenger:
. . . so don't worry about shit. I'm a handle this nigga, man. This nigga in a classy-ass, muthafuckin' restaurant; I know this nigga got the muthafuckin' money. Don't worry about shit, I'm a have it. All right?
Contact:
No mercy, nigga.
The Messenger:
All right. [Hangs up phone.]

Broad:
Excuse me.
Waiter:
Uh, yes ma'am.
Broad:
I have a reservation. It's for Jones
Waiter:
For Jones? Let me see here for a minute. Oh yes, Mr. Jones called. He said, he is running late, but I am to seat you now.
Broad:
Okay, thank you.
Waiter:
Follow me this way. Here you go ma'am. Um, would you like to start with something to drink while you wait?
Broad:
Do you have a Chardonnay?
Waiter:
Most certainly--coming right up. Oh, and uh, here is Mr. Jones right now. Hi, Mr. Jones how are you this evening.
Mr. Jones:
Hey, what's up? What's up? What's up?
Broad:
Hi, baby.
Mr. Jones:
Hey, baby. Damn.
Broad:
Baby, what took you so long? I been just waitin' and waitin'. This is a nice place.
Mr. Jones:
Yeah, its cool. It's cool. Did you order yet?
Broad:
No, baby. I was waitin' on you. . . . Baby?
Mr. Jones:
What? What's happenin'?
Broad:
That guy's been staring at me since I've sat down.
Mr. Jones:
What dude?
Broad:
You know him?
Mr. Jones:
What dude?
Broad:
That guy over there.
Mr. Jones:
Over where? Aw, shit!
Broad:
Baby, what's wrong?
Mr. Jones:
Damn, don't worry about it! Jus-- Damn! Just--, just be cool, just be cool.
Broad:
Baby, he's walkin' over here now!
Mr. Jones:
Oh, shit!
Broad:
Baby, he's--, baby he's goin' in his jacket.
The Messenger:
Message for Mr. Jones, muthafucka!
Broad:
Oh, Shit!
[Admist a massive array of gunfire and commotion:]
Mr. Jones:
Cover your head.
The Messenger:
Punk muthafucka! Punk muthafucka! [Gunfire ceases.]
Fuck you! Get the fuck out my way! Get the fuck out my way!
[More gunfire.]
Fuck you! Get the fuck out my way. Get the fuck out my way.
Bystander:
My leg! My leg!