Politics/Script

Script

Leavis: Do you have an appointment?

Johnny: Uhh... no I thought I'd inquire about a membership.

Leavis: Excuse me?

Johnny: Yeah, under this ravaged, drug-addled exterior lies the heart of a reactionary prick, so I thought I'd fit right in here.

Leavis: I think you should leave, sir, before I call the police.

Johnny: "I think you should leave sir, before I...", dude, it is the twenty-first century. Let me tell you something... you've got a job wiping rich pricks' asses, and for some reason you seem a little pleased with yourself.

Leavis: Will you leave?

Johnny: Trust me man, nothing would please me more, but I'm supposed to see Tom Stubbs and well.. he said to meet him here.

Leavis: Oh, Mr. Stubbs, sir. Okay, you only had to say so, sir. Follow me, will you. Mr. Stubbs is in the day spa, receiving some back work.

Johnny: Right you are.

(Leavis takes Johnny to Stubbs)

Leavis: Mr. Stubbs. A gentleman for you. Thank you, Leavis. And thank you.

(Leavis leaves)

Stubbs: So, you're David Grossman's friend?

Johnny: Oh yeah, we're old, old buddies.

Stubbs: Love the old boy network.

Johnny: Yeah, I can imagine. So what is it that you want?

Stubbs: Could you excuse us, sugar?

Masseuse: Okay, sure.

Stubbs: And thank you, best massage I ever had that didn't involve a happy ending or a poignant sense of guilt afterwards.

Masseuse: See you tomorrow.

(The masseuse leaves)

Stubbs: Tom Stubbs. How do you do?

Johnny: Well, now that you mention it... I'm starting to feel a little queasy.

Stubbs: Don't be pathetic and no secrets here, pal. Now listen. I'm in a bit of a bother, sport.

Johnny: Well I think they can fix that with surgery these days, you know.

Stubbs: Can we stop with the jokes? Grossman tells me you're reliable.

Johnny: Grossman? That guys an asshole.

Stubbs: Look, I'm not going to insult your intelligence by pretending to be a good guy. I'm a politician. I'm a cynic. I'm very needy. I need people to like me. I need people to like me so that they elect me. I need people to elect me so that I feel marginally less bad about myself when I stare into the mirror. That being said, I try to do a good dead here and there.

Johnny: Democracy's a beautiful thing.

Stubbs: Personally, I'd prefer a benign dictatorship without the pretense of choice, but let's leave the political discussions shall we?

Johnny: Yes, let's.

Stubbs: Unfortunately, an awful man has insured that my chances of being re-elected is pretty much zero.

Johnny: Why? Blackmail?

Stubbs: Not exactly. I need his money, and he hasn't died.

Johnny: What? You want me to kill your father?

Stubbs: No. That's disgusting. How could you suggest such a thing? My father died years ago, thank god. No. My uncle. That sanctimonious do-gooder controls the family trust.

Johnny: Whoa, that's heavy man.

Stubbs: Yes, so is being arrested for drug running and spending the next thirty years in prison. You and your little gang, I mean.

Johnny: I see, you make a wonderful politician.

Stubbs: I know. Now, you've got to get the old goat today. Make it spectacular. Make it appear as though it's a terrorist act. That'll do wonders for my campaign in all sorts of ways. Leavis will give you a package on the way out. Oh and Klebitz, trust me... I am what I am, but I look out for those who help me.

Johnny: A blackmailer with a conscience, beautiful.

Post mission phone call

Stubbs: Okay, Klebitz. Give me the good news. I'm just about happy with the eulogy my researchers drafted up.

Johnny: Sadly, Stubbs, I'm not going to be able to disappoint you. Your uncle is no longer with us. For my conscience's sake, I hope your lack of humanity is a genetic quality.

Stubbs: Ah, he was a man of the people, a philanthropist, a pompous windbag and an occasional catamite, a typical Stubbs you might say. Sleep easy and drop into the club sometime soon.