All language subtitles for 1996 - Animal Instinct III

Thank you.

She's really got it on you.

You know who I am.

You've seen me.

I saw her, and right away I knew what
she was all about.

I am Joanna Coles, internationally
renowned author.

I'm a best -selling author, and
renowned, if that's a word, is some sort

symbol. See, I'm an exhibitionist.

She likes to be watched.

I watched her.

It feeds me.

To be seen for me is to live.

Besides, it is my living.

And this is my story.

Animal Instincts.

The world according to a woman who
likes, who lives to be watched.

Millions of copies sold.

Who knows how many eyes are watching me
now?

Know this.

I'm watching.

That is what I do.

In fact, between my talk show
appearances and the way I get written up

tabloids and gossip columns, I feel a
lot of the time.

Like the whole world is watching me.

Sometimes,

I like the feeling of every eye on Earth
turned toward me.

And other times, I guess I love it.

Honesty becomes Miss Coles.

It didn't always.

At the very least, my wicked ways have
made for some interesting stories.

Orlando and the pool table.

That story I know well.

Every eye in the house was on Joanna
Coles that night.

With good goddamn reason.

Present among the admiring throng was
Alex Savage.

The big shot hoo -ha music producer and
media manipulator.

That would be me.

I really enjoy shit pits like that bar.

Never really know what may go down.

Fuck, some well -to -do broad might
happen to walk by in search of her own

adventure and get nailed by the local
football stud and then go on to write a

book about it.

Trust me.

All things are possible.

I've seen it.

The incident with Orlando and the pool
table is what convinced me that anything

in this life is possible.

I knew what to expect from the bar that
night, but I didn't know as if I could

rise to that sort of challenge.

I loved knowing that I was able to
overcome my inhibitions.

It was around that time I first read the
incredible story of Mr.

Rise the Vacation himself, Alex Savage.

Alex Savage, for the less hip among you,
is the foremost renaissance man in

contemporary music.

Savage produced records and became well
-known for reinventing the images and

careers of rock stars and rappers who
were either washed up or considered a

from the get -go.

And dig this.

Alex Savage was a world -class knife
thrower.

And one more thing.

Alex Savage was blind.

Savage wasn't always blind.

It happened by accident.

That's how I first heard his name. There
had been some gruesome mishap in his

studio or something.

But he vowed to come back, to finish the
record he was working on and to

continue throwing knives.

And he did just that.

What a kick I got from reading about
Savage's recovery.

It was my number one source of strength
as I was writing Animal Instincts.

I told Savage as much on a cassette I
sent him along with a copy of the book.

I figured he'd never get either of them.

I figured pretty wrong.

Hello, I'm calling for Joanna Coles. My
name is Alex Savage.

You sent me a package.

It's very much appreciated.

Listen, I'm having a little party
tomorrow. I really wish you'd come.

Details are included in the invitation
that was delivered to your residence

afternoon.

Do come.

I had to take a dip after that news.

I had to cool off.

The cool water heats me up, too.

Alex Savage invited me to his party with
a major event in my already eventful

life. Maybe Savage knew that, maybe he
didn't.

Come tomorrow, he'd be aware of the
impact of our paths crossing for sure.

Who was I to Savage anyway?

Some freak on a talk show?

Some trinket to add to his human
collection?

What was he looking for?

What was I looking for?

The truly cool thing to do would be to
blow Savage off.

Forget his party.

Forget him.

But that's not my style.

I'd rather show up and blow him away.

Fame, fortune, well, let's say security,
pleasure, and

power.

I've got them all.

I earned them all.

I lived too long and too hard not to
appreciate the finer things and to

them.

Savage apparently is a man of taste as
well.

I had lived a rich existence these past
few years.

If Alex Savage were going to open my
eyes to some radical new reality, he had

his work cut out for him.

Who knows?

He seemed a man capable of miracles.

Alex Savage was a winner.

And he was going to be my pride.

As I slept last night, I wondered why
Alex Savage wanted me to come to his

in the first place.

He was charmed by my work. Ha.

Bullshit.

Alex Savage was a player.

A major player.

What was he playing me for?

How could he use me?

How was he using me already?

What was in it for him?

Well, I'll look my best for a blind man
and piece this puzzle together.

Alex Savage may actually be blind to
what he's inviting into his life by

inviting me to this get -together.

I'll give him an eye -opener.

I must admit that I didn't expect quite
the extraordinary level of visual

competition.

I'm fierce in my pursuit of, how to put
it, the big show.

Now watch me show them how it's really
done.

Look at this place.

What does one say?

Nice gigs.

Quite a spread.

I'll think of something.

There was so much to see in this blind
man's estate.

Odd.

Or is the proper word eccentric?

My darling, you smell absolutely
consumable.

But I'm afraid my senses are trained
upon one subject alone.

Joannical.

Something tells me Joanna celebrates
among us today.

Not Joanna.

But very lovely, I'm sure.

Joanna?

No.

Far from a disappointment, I trust.

I was right.

Joanna is here.

In the flesh.

You're a very gifted man.

You're a pretty gifted woman, Joanna.

That's why, behind curtain number one, I
give you this.

People, people, people, people, friends.

The entire purpose of this little soiree
was to leave an indelible impression on

Joanna's heart.

I also wanted to see how many of these
psychopathic ass -kissers I could get to

wake up at five in the morning.

Well, mingle!

Let's go! It's a party!

Just don't steal anything.

Go on, I'm glad you could make it.

Let's get a drink.

Pretty neat trick, this shit with the
knives, huh?

Let me tell you an even neater trick.

Convincing the entire world that you're
a fucking blind man.

That is correct.

I can see.

I can see.

I am in fact a voyeur.

The voyeur.

I like to watch.

I live to watch.

You'd be amazed at what people will
allow you to see when they think you

see them at all.

Especially the females.

Not our Miss Cold, however.

Joanna never, ever let her guard down.

Joanna Cold's a shark.

Ah, that is a sound I can recognize.

I can also recognize what's going on
with your heart rate, Joanna.

What makes you so uncomfortable, Miss
World Class Exhibitionist

Mademoiselle?

Certainly not a little nudity.

Or public displays of affection.

You're not embarrassed by this little
exhibit, Joanna.

You are frustrated.

Who's going to watch Joanna in
surroundings like this?

Relax.

Today, Joanna will be the watcher.

The change will be nice.

Is this decadence?

As in California millionaire rock and
roll decadence?

What difference did it make?

It was an eyeful.

It was also a road I'd been down, so to
speak, before, sort of.

I am no stranger to the illicit thrill
of the couple that becomes a triple.

I know firsthand the electrifying
pleasure of female flesh on female

But it was never like this.

Here I sat on the sidelines.

But I was still very much a participant.

It was all I could do not to turn this
threesome into a foursome by four.

But I felt a new kind of power in just
sitting and watching.

Forcing into submission my every impulse
to show off.

you

He had no idea.

I could have commanded the attention of
every fucker in that house with a bat of

my eyes.

I chose not to.

I played along.

The savage did too.

Uh -huh.

These little orgies are all fun and good
until someone gets hurt.

Joanna.

Well, I have definitely been the center
of attention long enough.

Tonight, anyway.

It's your turn, Joanna.

What do you want to know?

The cure for blindness.

Well, actually, a description of what
you look like should suffice.

Didn't you get a decent idea earlier
with your hands?

I'd like your words.

Well, I'm five foot six, light brown
hair, blue eyes.

Vital statistics aren't exactly what I
had in mind, Joanna.

Tell me, how does the ultimate
exhibitionist

display herself for public view?

I demand attention.

What kind of attention?

It doesn't matter just so long as it's
mine.

Well, you have my attention.

Undivided.

What will you do with it?

Who are you, Joanna Coles?

What do you see?

I don't know.

That's why I need to be watched.

The only sense I have of myself is what
I gather from people who see me.

Even then, I'm not so sure I like the
way it looks.

It's like I'm painting a picture I can't
see.

Because my soul is the canvas.

Well, I can't tell you what I see.

Joanna. But I can show you what I feel.

Tears, tears he used.

Tears as bogus as my blindness.

Nice move.

Ultimately ineffective, but a charming
maneuver nonetheless.

Just describe to me what you're looking
for and I'll take it out.

Thank you.

You know, I'm going to need you, Joanna.

I just signed on a new client.

Who?

This person's identity, at least at this
juncture, really isn't pertinent.

This new idea that I'm working on is
total reinvention.

Like when you have a piece of granite
and you very meticulously remove all the

pieces of all that is not human.

But nothing, remember, is carved in
stone forever.

Any mishap can be salvaged. Any triumph
can be undone.

And what are we doing here, dear Alex?

Looking around.

Tell me, what do you see?

What do you mean, what I see?

I see a bunch of statues.

Gnomes. Animals.

Naked ladies.

Ah.

All very lovely things.

We look like we belong together.

Glad you see my point.

Ah.

Take a look at this.

Her tits.

How do her tits look?

Perfect.

They look perfect.

But they're not perfect.

They're hard, cold, man -made, not even
functional.

They belong to a statue, Alex.

In that context, they function
perfectly.

Then how do we function?

Me, you, us?

Why don't you have a seat?

Well, that depends on the context.

Ah.

Well, how about this context?

Two people meet, and they'll never admit
this, but they've been searching.

Let's say for each other.

I would say that these searchers are you
and me.

Let's say even further that you are a
publicity -whoring book writer, while I

naturally am a... publicity -pimping
music producer.

And nice thriller.

Ah, lest we forget.

Alex was a charmer.

God, a lethal charmer.

I danced for him as much as for myself
that day in the statue garden.

I wondered if he knew I was doing it.

I wondered if he knew why I was doing
it.

Why these compulsions?

What drove us?

It was all a matter of context.

I think we fit each other very well,
Joanna. In fact, perfectly.

In that context, quite perfectly.

You know, I put on a rerun of that
ridiculous Jennifer Nixon show on TV

You were the guest.

Tacky, darling, very tacky.

The show, I mean, you were, well, you
were fabulous.

Objected class where you could.

Even though you had to go and tell that
pool table story, that's...

Anyway, I'm sure that the appearance
sold a lot of books for you.

That's great.

Also great is that I signed on to
produce the next album for the number

star in the world today.

So, that's your new project.

I didn't say that.

What I am saying is that you and I both
played...

in specific situations for specific
results.

We also bring others into our situations
for very similar reasons.

We want intrigue. We want action.

The high theater of real life.

What I'm saying is that we're the same
creature, Joanna.

What I'm saying is that I need you very
much.

You're my client, Joanna.

And I'm your servant.

My big project is our future.

Together.

Be with me.

Stay with me.

Do with me.

Everything.

That's what I'm saying.

Oh, baby, I need you too. You have to
know that.

I need us.

Come on, let's get out of here.

Wait here a minute and I'll go get the
car.

Bravo, gentlemen.

Bravissimo.

That... Went exactly as planned.

And in no small part, I must say, to
your extraordinary thespian skill.

Well, uh... Please.

Of course you're going to be paid.

Huh? Something for you?

Huh?

Y 'all learned something really valuable
here today, boys.

And that is that I can play Joanna Coles
like a goddamn grand piano.

Of course, as long as she feels that
that's how she's playing me.

Thanks again,

boys.

Rich weirdos. Shut up.

He's good.

This was a game, after all.

See, that's what happens when boredom
sets in.

People play games. They gossip. They set
each other up to fail or succeed.

Rest assured that Joanna Coles was
bored.

Sure, the crack of dawn party I threw
was a real hoot, and she enjoyed that

first month or so that we dated because
it was something new.

She thought I was blind, for Christ's
sake.

The new gets old very fast.

That's when life gets boring.

Where games come from.

Just so long as the key player feels
like he's pulling some cosmic strings.

But everybody thinks he's the key
player.

Especially when he's a she.

The boundaries of the game between
Joanna and myself changed quickly.

I asked her to move in with me.

I would build the ultimate rock and roll
album while she wrote the great

American dirty book.

Joanna was rather late on delivering
animal instincts, and she was very

about it.

The players changed in our little
rondelette as well.

Enter pretty boy rock star Trick Willie.

Trick Willie was frequently compared to
the young Elvis Presley in regard to his

electrifying, all -encompassing sexual
presence.

Trick had grown tired of creating pop
music and sought my services in helping

him forge art.

I was jealous, that's what I mean.

Jealous of the attention being lavished
on Alex from his deal with Trick Willie,

and jealous of the ease of which he
seemed to work.

My writer's block was so severe I became
delusional.

Then Trick entered the picture, and I
didn't know which end was up.

I wanted to humiliate a blind man, as it
were.

What could I expect when the most
fuckable man alive was suddenly in my

room?

You do a little hand gliding up here.

I think that's right here now.

Oh!

Joanna Coles.

Trick Willie.

My pleasure, Mr. Willie.

You can cut the Mr.

crap, Mr. Trick.

You don't have to worry about calling
him anything for the next few hours.

We in the studio are reinventing sound
as human beings have come to understand

it.

There they were, the two masters at
work.

In the meantime, I was stuck with a king
hell nightmare of writer's block.

I was stuck, period.

Alex could be so smug.

I suppose I loved him and I didn't want
to hurt him.

It's more like I wanted to fix him.

And then Trick.

He looked so possessed by his music.

I could break that spell.

And I could cast a few spells of my own.

Hold on. One minute, Alex.

I gotta make a bit of an adjustment
here.

Yeah, okay.

Okay, turn it up. Let's rock this thing

Cut the tape, man.

Cut the tape!

This guitar part is not making it. Yeah,
agreed.

Well, why don't you give me a little
time to work it out?

Uh, how little is a little?

Oh, I don't know.

About an hour or so.

Why don't you go jerk yourself off or
something?

Well, that's a very colorful trick.

Uh, I'll be upstairs at the piano.

Joanna? Yeah, babe, what's up?

Mr. Willie, the master craftsman,
requires

a little private time.

Don't we all?

Rick Willie.

There was some trickery involved in that
liaison, but it was hardly on the part

of the horny rocker boy.

God, what an eyeful.

Joanna Coles was as hooked on
exhibitionism as the smoker is to

alcoholic is to a drink.

She thought solace in a blind man.

That morning in the kitchen provided her
with a taste of what she so badly

needed.

Then Trick Willie gave her exactly the
fix she ached for.

Eh, we all have our addictions.

My junk is reality.

Fucking with it.

Manipulating it.

Making reality bend and work for me. My
pawns varied.

In business, I manipulated the media.

The players were always changing.

Shane Hooligan was an Irish -American
rapper.

Charismatic, not too bright.

I wanted to work with him.

Probably the tough guy bravado, Hooligan
was essentially an innocent.

Especially when compared to a viper like
Trick Willie.

Or for that matter, Joanna Coles.

I figured they'd make for a hell of a
mix.

So this is your new boy, huh?

Mr. Shane Hooligan.

He's due any minute.

I just hope he can stomach my corned
beef and cabbage.

What do you like about this guy? I heard
his music. It's kind of plain.

Won't be when I get finished with it.

It's interesting with this kid, you
know?

It's like there's this...

Overpowering need for approval.

Or attention, anyway.

You can hear it in his voice.

Potential for death, right?

Figured I'd just have to blow his mind a
little.

You probably know what I'm talking
about.

Yes, I know what it's like to need
attention.

Mr. Shane.

Yo, Alex.

How you doing? It's Alex.

I'm going to buzz you in, okay?

Go straight, hard right, and we'll meet
you in the kitchen.

Yo, yo, yo, Alex.

What's up,

man? How you doing, Willie? It's always
a pleasure.

Let me introduce to you the cheap
pleasure in my life, Joanna Coles.

How you doing, lady?

Tell me, is your man's fucking gonna
kill me or what?

Hey, no dissing the blind shot, right,
honey?

Come on, let's beat up. It's getting
cold.

Yo, Alec.

I pulled the dope samples to you, the
new record man, from all these fly

boy. I mean, I got shit like New Wave
Hookers,

L 'Amour, The Lady, Dracula.

You have to raise $2 ,000, you know, all
that shit, man.

Well, that's great.

That's really cool. I mean, you've done
your homework.

I've been thinking, Shane, I mean,
there's a whole new direction that I

take with the album.

Sampling.

Yeah, I just... Like sampling little
bits of movies, you know, at least

television, doesn't matter, but in equal
proportion, of course, to the musical

snippets that we hold.

You know, I want it louder.

You know, I mean, I want it more
operatic or comedic.

Emotions.

Now, I also personally enjoy the sense
of history, of course, and humor.

Sampling.

Funny that Mr. Hooligan would be
discussing sampling when our boy Shane

should feel free to sample my live -in
lover.

Well, it was offered to him, after all.

I'm not a jealous man, far from it, but
I am a sane man, lest I checked.

And this notion of sampling simply blows
me away.

Say you sample, you're a thief, that's
all.

You cop, wholesale, that which belongs
to us.

Blatantly, arrogantly, for selfish
purposes, without remorse.

But you're just sampling, just helping
yourself to a smidge, a sort of a taste.

It's amazing what one let us get away
with these days.

With just the slightest switch in
terminology.

Shane Hooligan diving so easily and so
deep into Joanna's clutches may have

rattled the green -eyed monster within
me, but not simply because he was

my best girl.

It was more Shane's unpredictability.

I expected him to crumble under Joanna's
onslaught. He didn't.

Rather, he reacted as Joanna
anticipated.

He went for it.

I wanted to see Joanna hurt.

Rejected.

Numbed by failure.

It was time for it.

Part of my plan.

I was disappointed.

Joanna and Shane Hooligan certainly
weren't.

No, they would be, but for the time
being, they sizzled.

And I fumed.

Look at him.

Partake of my hospitality and enjoy, Mr.

Hooligan.

Dig in.

What's mine is yours.

Eat up.

Motherfucker.

Joanna Coles beat me this round.

Fully for her.

All's fair, blah, blah, blah.

Honey, I'm not hungry right now. I think
I'll get something later.

So, Alex, if you're so blind, how can
you cook like this?

Well, it's actually just a matter of
ingredients.

As long as no one fucks around with me,
and I always find out if they do,

everything works out fine.

Well, you guys don't think the food
tape's funny, do you?

No, no, it's cool.

Well, then eat up, boy!

Then we'll really get around to blowing
your mind.

So what did I learn?

Braggart Hooligan and Show -Off Joanna
got on famously.

Surprise, surprise.

I was surprised at how instantly I
clicked with Shane Hooligan.

Then I was even more surprised when Alex
suddenly pulled out of the deal to

produce Shane's record.

I remember thinking, why is Alex playing
around?

It was all a game.

I mean, was this all some sort of prank?

It was all a game.

I mean, was Alex toying with me?

Was this some sort of fucking game?

And who exactly were the players?

And what was the prize?

It was all a fucking game.

The game was, how far will you go?

The rules were deception.

The prize was enlightenment.

Fucking enlightenment!

The road to it... grew ever more.

She's the goddamn matter.

What, the girl?

What's your name, honey?

Lolly.

Lolly is the matter?

Yes, Lolly is the matter. Why don't you
ask Lolly her last name, Savage?

What exactly is your problem with
Lollipop?

Rick Willy?

My problem is my whole life has been
about Lollipop.

I mean, not her exactly, of course.
Everything she represents.

Tid thrills and teenage bullshit.

I mean, I don't mean to wig out in the
middle of the session, Savage, but

looking at her stirs up some nasty shit
inside of me.

Is that right?

Like what?

Like... The whole bloody reason I signed
with you in the first place, Mr.

Savage, Mr. Rock and Roll Intellectual.
You were supposed to bring some depth to

my music, and hopefully my life. But
instead, here we are, and all I ever do

lollipop.

Well, has it ever occurred to you, Trick
Willie, Mr. Goddamn

Rock and Roll Pomposity, that there is
absolutely nothing wrong with the...

lollipop of this world, and perhaps it
is truly you that it is all about.

As far as bringing depth to your work,
trust me, I have.

I can only intensify what's already
there.

Do you have any idea what that is?

Don't you fucking say what I think
you're gonna say. Cheap, thrilled, and

teenage bullshit!

Put very clearly and simply just for
you, Trick.

Lolli -fucking -pop!

Lolli -lolli -lollipop.

Lolly was to be the bridge between my
libido and my conscience.

Lolly was Trick Willie's fuck du jour
that afternoon, and I believed my

salvation.

Lolly made me wonder if there wasn't a
way I could truly share my

exhibitionistic side with Alex.

Perhaps I could make him see, after all.

Perhaps Alex could play along.

Don't give me that horse shit, Trick!

Did you realize that you were this
fucking close to oblivion when you first

signed with me?

Have you just listened to what I had to
say and accept what you are? Maybe we

can get down to doing a little bit of
business.

Accept this, Savage. Fuck you.

Jeez, enough. You sound like children.

You nearly frightened this poor little
thing half to death.

Well, then you save her.

You know, I think you saved me by
default, Savage. It's all bullshit. I'm

bullshit. You're bullshit.

Mr. Savage, if you want to release my
album, feel free. It's all bullshit.

And if the two of you want to fuck
little Miss Lollipop, feel free.

Me? I'm going to a bullshit island with
Brando. I'll send you a postcard.

I'll give you my best. Get the fuck out!

God damn it!

Take it easy, Alex. Pay no attention to
his bullshit.

And don't you fret either.

He wants.

So I'll turn out for the best.

Let's get you cleaned up, sweetie.

Meet me in the upstairs bathroom.

Take this money and then don't do
anything.

Just stay where you are and silently
watch what happens. That's what I'm

you to do.

And don't you worry either.

We'll get you all cleaned up, okay?

No idea.

I'm some big pile of crap.

I'm so over these people. You have no
idea.

Take it easy.

Have a seat.

I'll see yous back and enjoy the show.

Alex, if only you could drink her in.

She's beautiful, just beautiful.

Touch her.

Cruise the delicate surface of her skin.

Feel the heat.

Feel her youth.

Feel her beauty.

Lollipop was the sweet one.

I was never like her.

I've always been more poison ivy.

What a sight.

Oblivious innocence in the midst of hard
sin.

Delicious sin.

Lollipop was pure sugar.

I figured that Savage needed a dollop of
sweetness and light at this stage.

God, politics, maneuvers, plotting.

It was barely time to step back and see
where all this was heading.

I was operating on pure instinct.

Animal instincts, if you will.

And as our rendezvous with Miss Lollipop
played out, a new force took over.

All -powerful arousal.

Oh, I have never in my wicked life been
so delectably, indescribably, so

wickedly turned on.

There comes a time when the game plays
the players.

It's a good time.

All right, look.

I'm the voyeur extraordinaire and
whatnot, but this beat all.

These chicks thought I was blind.

They offered me a glimpse into the way
women behave when the lights are out and

the heat is off them.

The whole point of my blindness act is
to make moments like this happen.

Sex is just icing.

Between Joanna's display for the plumber
and the sweet deal those cleaning

ladies had going, nobody took better
care of their manual labors than me.

Something else became clear.

Joanna was on to me.

Not that I could see, but just that I
was up to something.

It's time to yep the ante.

Enter notorious gangster rapper Stone
Chill.

Do you have any idea what kind of madman
this Stone Chill is?

Listen to this.

In the years since Chill's debut album,
Rape Yo Bitch, first appeared on the

charts, he has been arrested four times
on weapons charges, six times for

assault, twice for rape, both of which
were settled out of court, and a

conspiracy to murder rap is still
pending.

This after a youth of almost constant
juvenile incarceration.

That is all such publicity.

Hey, look what Stone Chill's competing
against.

Tupac Shakur, sex offender.

Snoop Doggy Dogg allegedly mixed up in
murder, too.

Stone Chill has set out to knock him all
off the block, so he's going to have to

knock a few blocks off.

You mean like the poor sap who produced
his last album?

Alex, if you could see how badly beaten
this poor man is.

It says here.

That after Chill was through giving
Albini multiple concussions, he

rape Albini's wife.

Why do you want to work with this kind
of scum?

Do you have any idea how prone I am?

Here's the fact.

Stone Chill's last album flopped, okay?
He blames it on the production.

That's why he got a little rough with
Mr. Albini who you see in your newspaper

there. That's why his management thought
me out.

I don't produce blops.

Come on.

Don't chill has got to really, really be
pissed off before he does any real

damage.

Like those... Sorry, like those two cops
that he shot.

Shot those two cops?

Alex, tell me you're kidding.

Okay, I'm kidding.

What are you thinking?

Why do you want to work with such
inhumane garbage?

Because Stone Chill doesn't deny who he
really is.

Not like that deluded trick Willie or
half these other fuckers who actually

struggle against who they really are.

God, the futility.

Today, humanity puts half as much effort
into utilizing what it truly is as

opposed to denying it.

That'll be the day we all evolve into
angels.

And that'll be the fucking day.

But why would you want to put a man like
that in such close proximity to me?

Just be yourself.

Don't show fright me to no end.

Mostly I was afraid for the obvious fact
that he was a violent, irrational man

and who knew what might set him off.

And I was afraid of what he might set
off within me.

I expected the worst, and I was right to
do so.

How do I look?

Smashing. How do I smell?

Ah, exquisite.

But how about the decoration?

How do they look?

Very, very African.

That is what you wanted, isn't it?

Oh, absolutely.

Return to Africa.

That's the theme I'm going to pitch for
Chill's new album.

It's also, I'm sure, what a lot of
closed -minded people wish Cho would

do.

Anyway, I hope these surroundings will
entice him.

They're here. I'll buzz them in the
gate.

I'll await them at the door.

Mr. Savage?

Mr. Savage, so nice to meet you in
person.

I'm not playing major, it's Mr. Chill's
business manager. Of course, go ahead.

What the fuck is this, man?

What the fuck is this, huh?

Chill, I'm going to take you back to
Africa.

Oh, no, you're not going to take me back
to Africa.

What the fuck is he talking about, man?
No, no, no, Chill, that's what I've been

trying to tell you about. Mr. Savage has
an idea that your next album should

have an African feel.

See, chill. All the other rappers are
busting old school. It's my plan to take

you back to the oldest school there is.

Mother Africa.

Oh, that's supposed to be like some deep
shit, huh?

So you savage, huh?

The motherfucker that's known for making
top records, right?

So they say.

And you blind as a motherfucker, huh?

Like you can't see shit?

Man, that's fucked up.

The prime people put thee right next to
you.

You could only be talking about my
Joanna.

Join us, darling.

Gentlemen, may I present to you Joanna
Coles. Joanna not only decorated the

house tonight, but prepared the meal as
well.

Joanna, darling, may I present Super
Agent Clay Majors.

And Rap Kingpin, Stone Chill.

It's nice meeting both of you. Likewise.

Where I know you from, I know you from
somewhere.

Yeah, you was on that fat ho's talk
show.

You was the one that was getting fucked
on a pool table.

And motherfuckers like watching you and
shit. You like that kind of shit, don't

you? You like when motherfuckers
watching you get fucked.

Tell me the truth, ho.

Uh... Actually, yes, I have been on a
television show. Shut up, bitch.

She likes to get watched, and this
motherfucker can't see.

It's fucking me up, man.

So what do you think, Stone?

Return to Africa?

I think I'm hungry, man.

I think I'm real motherfucking hungry,
all right?

I think I need to be fed.

Well, I don't see why we can't have a
little dinner.

Discuss business at the same time.

Christ, was it hot that day.

Electrified might be the more
appropriate word.

Sex was the main source of the moment's
power.

Sex and violence.

Real violence.

Potentially deadly violence.

The sort of violence that might force me
to refuse to be.

That, of course, I was in no rush to do.

My plan was to wait if indeed the
situation ran out of control until the

possible minute.

Until Joanna was truly in mortal danger.

Somehow I sensed that would be a
possibility.

Sir, are you hungry? Would you like to
join us? That motherfucker eats when I

say eat.

He shits.

When I say shit, don't offer him shit,
all right? That's my nigga.

I trained him.

Shit. That's a law motherfucker.

He seen me do shit that'll probably
leave me locked up the rest of my

life. You see what I'm saying?

Shit, I pay him plenty fucking good,
too.

So next time you think about offering
shit, you talk to me first.

Fuck that, all right?

Chill. I think Savage is really onto
something with his return to Africa

Yeah, man, whatever the fuck you talking
about, man?

Uh, Chill, I think you really ought to
listen to what Alex has to say, because

he's jump -started many careers, which
have said, uh, eh, stomach blocks.

Uh, and I don't mean to be unpleasant,
but you all know, uh, your last album

didn't perform that well.

What exactly do you have in mind, Alex?

Did you ever see the movie Gandhi Chill?

Yeah, yeah, I know what the fuck it is.

Very well.

See, there was a scene in Gandhi, which
obviously came out before I went blind,

where Gandhi's leading his army of
followers on a march to the sea.

There are thousands upon thousands of
believers, each attempting to emulate

holy man.

In their haste, they rush past poor
Gandhi.

What was that?

Nothing, man. I knocked over a fucking
bow. Keep talking.

Anyway, uh... Gandhi is forever having
to...

Fight! To keep to the head of the pack.

Oh, these... Jill, the irony is, Gandhi
is the head of the pack.

I see you as being the Gandhi of the rap
scene, Jill.

Certainly not for your pacifism.

But because your talents... Well,
they're almost...

mystical.

Hell, all the hip -hop follows you every
move, Chill.

My only goal is to lead you back to the
front of the pack.

You know, you're the baddest
motherfucker going, Chill.

Chill, this had something to do with how
you stayed so far ahead of the

competition, huh?

You're the baddest Mahatma.

Yeah, Mahatma, right? Yeah, I dig what
you're saying, man. That's all good.

But I got a role, so what I'm going to
do is I'm going to put this tape on some

stuff that I've been working on. I'm
going to take majors. I'm going to take

bodyguard. We don't raise the body here,
man.

I got to go.

That's some shit that I've been working
on, right?

And, you know, I'm going to get out of
here. But it was nice meeting you, man.

And, yo, you're a bitch as fuck.

I can't believe so soon.

Sorry, man. I got to go.

Come on. What the fuck?

Joanna?

Joanna? Do you want me to turn the music
down?

No.

No, I think I'll... I think I'll listen
to it like this.

Yeah, the food's delicious. I think
I'll... I think I'll finish eating.

Is there anything left of the pig?

Call for committing casualties, a war,
cause my heart calls for more

catastrophes than a world war.

With no sweat, I'll step and catch
wreck, what else can you expect from a

rugneck? Born with agility, the rip
facility, less sweat to give, so don't

the ability, or you will end up walking
up out of shape.

We're gonna press up and that's the word
I make. Now I gotta take the flake and

straight break his motherfucking neck
and I hate respect while I'm great.

So I'ma dash to the hood, pass through
the wood, then crash cause I'm up to no

good. Cause I'm boss to boss and I
automate destruction.

Y 'all's better boss when your face
destructs.

We'll be right

back.

That's how it is when my fuse is lit. I
will abuse your greed and I won't even

use a stick. I use a fucking AK or a
Glock 9.

Get your respect cause I got mine.

I'm steady getting ready for the
machete. But I ain't facing Jason cause

him like a Betty.

Now he's petty like the rest. He said he
was the best. So I have to shred him

like stress.

Now I'm back to the west side gang. With
the west side gang cause the west is

where I am. It ain't a shame to blame it
on the sunshine.

I got a gun and I'm aiming it at one
time.

Waiting for some type of destruction so
I can fill a cap back.

Because you know I cross corruption like
ultimate destruction.

Y 'all better pause for your face
destruction.

y 'all better pause for your face
destruction y 'all better pause

for your face destruction y 'all better
pause for your face

destruction

It was all a game, right?

As a matter of fact, it was.

Savage's house was full of silent alarm
triggers.

There was one under the table.

To have a fleet of police cars and
helicopters on our property within

all I would have had to do was step on
that button.

I chose not to, out of fear.

Fear that I might not ever be so excited
again.

So yeah, it was all a game, and games
are great fun until somebody gets hurt.

Alex Savage told me something like that
once.

He would know.

Turn

your

ass around.

Turn around, bitch!

Fuck, you think I'll shake your ass?

Hey, read it. What it say?

What it say, huh?

Motherfucker, you're taking too long.
Come on, motherfucker.

Read what the fuck that shit say.

You think I'm fucking around?

Read it. What the fuck it say, man?

Read the shit, motherfucker punk.

I kill everybody in this motherfucker.
Turn around, bitch.

Read that shit.

See what it says?

See ya.

End game.

Looks like that music might have put
somebody in the mood a little bit, huh?

Well, that's just fabulous.

I'm getting a little horny.

Thank God that uppity, ignorant, black
bowl of chili

finally took off, huh?

Fuck you.

Anything about that asshole bodyguard
making a bullshit story about going on a

killing spree or anything like that,
okay?

We're in the clear.

Inside I'm screaming, why?

Why?

But I don't care why.

I'm fucking out of here.

Fuck you.

I don't think you really need to know
why, Joanna, because you already...

read the book.

Joanna's time with me served as the
perfect antidote for her writer's block.

And no matter how painful our little
story was, it did have its consolations.

I don't think Joanna ever forgave me,
though.

Forgiveness doesn't really matter.

We were destined to be together all
along.

I, the ultimate exhibitionist, and Alex,
the ultimate voyeur.

Really, the only game we played was
seeing how long we could put off such an

inevitable ending.

In that way, we both won.

In the best game, everyone always wins.

And that game was the best.

Well, there will be more.

The world is full of players.

After all, we sucked you in, didn't we?