Roman's Holiday/Script

Script

Ashley: You're here. You're here. Oh man... Johnny...

Johnny: What's the matter, sugar?

Ashley: Oh, Johnny. I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.

Johnny: What'd you do?

Ashley: I messed up, baby... promise you won't be mad.

Johnny: Why, what'd you do?

Ashley: I'm an addict. I need help.

Johnny: What the fuck did you do?

Kidnapper: You must be Johnny.

Johnny: Who are you?

Kidnapper:My name is not important.

Johnny: What is this?

Kidnapper: Your woman here owes Dimitri Rascalov a lot of money.

Johnny: Okay.

Kidnapper: We need you to do us favor.

Johnny: What?

Kidnapper: We need you to kidnap someone for us.

Johnny: Well, I'm not in the kidnapping business, dude.

Kidnapper: And I'm not in the dude business, dude. You either do it, or junky gets killed. Not difficult decision, even for a man stuck in 1960s time warp. It's easy. You grab him and deliver him to warehouse, off Lompoc in Bohan Industrial.

Johnny: And this'll pay off her debts?

Kidnapper: Well... it pays off interest.

Johnny: Wonderful...

Kidnapper: The name of the man we want is Roman Bellic.

Johnny: Yeah.

Kidnapper: He runs a cab business, but hangs around some backroom gambling place on Dillon Street in Schottler.

Johnny: I got it.

Kidnapper: You find him, you take him...Now, run along.

Johnny: Ashley you gotta stop fucking things up... Fuck!

Dialogue

(Johnny leaves Ashley's apartment and calls Malc)

Johnny: Dude, you busy? I got something and I don't need it getting round the clubhouse. I'll owe you, brother.

Malc: What you need Johnny?

Johnny: I need to snatch some guy name of uhh, Roman Bellic. Runs a cab firm, in debt to some Russians. You down? I'll pay.

Malc: Uhh, aight. I'm up on Y in Northwood. See you in a minute.

(Johnny meets Malc in Northwood)

Johnny: Nice rick rocket you got there. It come with a fortune cookie?

Malc: As a matter of face it did. Told me I was gonna meet some 1950s lookin' motherfucker who preferred rusty oil dripping junk to hi-tech precision machinery.

Johnny: Rusty oil dripping American junk.

Malc: Bitch please... your patriotism is making you ignorant. Anyway, we gonna go grab somebody. We need four wheels, I got that.

Johnny: Alright man, but I'm driving the cage.

Malc: Now you sure you know how?

Johnny: Watch and learn my friend. Watch and fuckin' learn.

(Johnny and Malc get in the car)

Malc: So, we got a plan, Johnny boy?

Johnny: Of course we've got a plan. We snatch this guy, deliver him to some other guys, then we pay ourselves on the back for doing a great job.

Malc: Sounds simple as shit.

Johnny: If you want Wingit Presentation before every job you do, you're running with the wrong crowd.

Malc: Who is this guy? Why you want him snatched?

Johnny: I dunno, I'm doin' this as a favor for a friend.

Malc: Huh, huh. Must be a good friend.

Johnny: It's complicated.

Malc: Oh, it's like that, is it, now? She like your girlfriend or something? Nah, nah, that's cool. I'm feeling that. Things is coming together, starting to make sense now.

Johnny: She ain't my old lady, alright?

Malc: Sure, sure she ain't. That's why you running all over town trying to snatch a fool up, huh? Please.

Johnny: She's a friend and she's in trouble. I believe in looking out for people you've been close to. You and your boys might ride, but you don't know nothing about brotherhood.

Malc: Shit. I know about brothers, but I know about bitches as well. And this here job - smells like a bitch to me. It got bitch-stink all over it, son.

Johnny: Thank God I'm hanging out with another two-bit street philosopher.

Malc: She playing you? She in trouble?

Johnny: I don't know. Both maybe. Fuck it. Shut up for a second. You know, Malc, I think you've got unresolved women issues. Were you close to your mother growing up? Did she let you down?

Malc: We ain't kidnapping nobody because of my mamma, Johnny. It's your lady friend getting us to do this. Think on that, son.

(Johnny drives to the gambling den and look for Roman)

Johnny: That's got to be him. Come on.

(The two find Roman)

Roman: Hello.

Malc: Aye, yo man. How you doin'?

Roman: Please, gentlemen. The men in there just took my money. I can't get robbed twice in one day. What do you want the shirt off my back? Come on.

Johnny: We're not robbing you, we're taking you. Your chips've been cashed, chubby.

Roman: No! Wait.

Johnny: Get in there and shut up!

Roman: Somebody. Stop. Somebody! Help!

Malc: Shut your fat ass up.

Johnny: We gotta take the fat man to a warehouse in Bohan.

(Johnny beings to drive towards the warehouse)

Johnny: All you Europeans got the same fucking accent.

or:

Johnny: How come all the Slavs in this city wear shitty tracksuits, man?

Roman: Please. Please. I'll pay you anything.

Johnny: I think he's trying to say something, Malc.

Roman': I can get money, I promise.

Malc: I don't know, I ain't hearing shit.

Roman: Okay. Okay. My cousin, he has money. He will pay you.

Malc: Oh, I get it. I think the man's trying to give us some money. We let him go and he'll come back with a bag full of unmarked twenties, right?

Roman: Yes. Yes. Exactly. Exactly.

Johnny: You mean, he's like trying to bribe us?

Roman: Yeah.

Johnny: I hope he knows that you and me are men of integrity, Malc. And that we'd find something like that real insulting.

Malc: Did you mean to insult us, Mr. Roman Bellic? I sure hope not.

Roman: Help! Help! Help me! Help me!

Johnny: Malc, tell this gentlemen what my kind of people do to guys who try to buy their way out.

Malc: Just so you know who you dealing with, Mr. Bellic. This is one screwed up dumb redneck motherfucker.

Roman: Oh lord, please help me.

Malc: Hey now listen, I do mean motherfucker in the most literal sense. Serious incest motherfucker. Fucking you up the ass with a barb wire dick would be a pleasure for this man.

Roman: Lord, I am sorry for all the women I've chased, the money I have wasted, the internet porn.

Malc: Yeah, this biker dude is twisted as all hell, man. By the way how many guys you killed, son?

Johnny: You mean, like, this year or in my whole career?

Malc: Aight just this year, man, we ain't got time for all that shit.

Johnny: It's been a good year, you know?

Roman: Oh Lord, I apologize for sleeping with those twins.

Johnny: You should apologize for that smell. You shat yourself or something?

Malc: God damn.

Roman: Lord, I am sorry for shitting myself, and for laughing at Brucie's balls.

(If Roman leaves the car)

Roman: Come on Roman, escape!

(Johnny chases after him)

Johnny: Get back in the fucking car.

or:

Johnny: Get your ass back here.

(Johnny threatens him)

Johnny: Get back in the car.

Roman: I nearly had you, buddy. You got to admit that?

or:

Roman: Alright, you win. I know when to fold my hand.

(Johnny walks Roman back to the car)

Johnny: We ain't got all day.

Johnny: A quick kidnapping's a good kidnapping. Come on.

Johnny: Sooner you get over there the sooner this will all be over with.

Malc: come on, piggly-wiggly. We need some grease or something?

Johnny: Squeeze in, fatso.

(Johnny and Roman get back in the car)

Johnny: For future reference, Malc, it might be worth locking your hostages into a car.

Malc: He ain't gonna make a play like that again. Believe that.

or:

Malc: Alright, man. I'll make sure it don't repeat itself.

Johnny: You pull a stunt like that again, and it's over for you, bacon ass.

or:

Johnny: Do that again and you're a dead man. A fat dead man.

Failing the mission

Roman dies

Malc: Well, uh, that kidnapping - didn't go too well, did it?

Johnny: Nah. A living hostage is one of the prerequisites for a successful snatching, ain't it?

Malc: Yeah this has got to be kind of awkward, man. I'm going to slip off. Peace.

(Johnny calls Ashley)

Ashley: Hey babe.

Johnny: Ashley, you need to tell your Russian loan shark that the guy they're after is dead.

Ashley: Oh shit, Johnny. Shit. What happened? I thought you were looking out for me. They'll turn me out. I don't know what I'm going to do. Shit.