INTRO
JAKE: Hey, you're watching Jake and Amir!
AMIR: ...Gimme a hug--
JAKE: Get off of me.
AMIR: Oh my God.
JAKE: You're wet.
[Jake sits down by the desk of a drug-dealing coworker who is, or is at least played by, Rosie.]
JAKE: Oh snap! What it do, my dude?
ROSIE: Yo.
[Jake holds out a twenty-dollar bill. Rosie snatches it up.]
JAKE: Twenty bones!
ROSIE: Thank you.
JAKE: You got that bud for your bud?
[Rosie slaps a small bag of marijuana into Jake's hand. Jake fumbles it immediately. Rosie just shakes his head. Jake picks it back up.]
JAKE: [holding up the bag] Ooh-oooh! [laughs] You mind if I test the product?
[Jake sniffs inside the bag.]
JAKE: Oh, come on, dude. Okay!
ROSIE: Good stuff, right?
[Jake rubs some on his gums.]
JAKE: Mmmm. Oh my goodness, mmmm. [howls like a wolf, then begins speaking in a bad Jamaican accent] Oh, mon, dis dat Jamaican shit, mon! Huh? [laughs feebly]
ROSIE: ...Sure.
JAKE: Okay! Uh, and to get high on it, I'll just, like, sprinkle it on a doobie?
ROSIE: Whatever.
JAKE: Okay. Cool! Dope, man. You wanna smoke it with me?
[Jake makes a fist and puts it up for a fist-bump. Rosie makes a fist and smacks Jake's fist out of the way.]
ROSIE: Uh... not right now. It's... eleven-thirty... we're at work--
JAKE: I'll hit you up after work.
ROSIE: ...Yeah.
[Jake holds the bag up again and makes a face. Suddenly, Amir runs up and grabs Jake's arm.]
AMIR: And I will hit you up!
JAKE: Hey-- ow! Ow ow!
AMIR: Everybody relax. I am making an old-fashioned citizen's arrest!
JAKE: What are you doing? Stop it!
AMIR: I am stoppin' it! I'm stoppin' the war... [tightens the plastic handcuff around Jake's wrists] on drugs!
JAKE: That means you wouldn't be arresting me.
AMIR: [on the phone] Hello, 911? Yeah, I caught the bitch! He is alive and well, for now! Nah, he's not even an underling; he's the head of this frickin' operation. I just chopped the head off the frickin' snake! [laughs] This serpent beast-- yes, I'll hold.
JAKE: Okay-- hey-- you made the handcuffs too tight, alright? Untie me. Seriously.
AMIR: [still on the phone] Yeah. Hello? [rifling through Jake's pockets] Okay, so I got a stolen wallet here, a... a-- a burner cell...
JAKE: That's my wallet, and my iPhone.
AMIR: ...and keys, that I believe were used... in a murder-suicide!
JAKE: ...How?
AMIR: And eureka! [grabs Jake's bag of weed] I found it! [laughs] We're looking at a kilo, kilo and a half of that Colombian mud! [flicks the bag] This is Mexican grade-A shit. [to Jake] You chose the wrong bull to tangle with, compende? [to nobody in particular] Okay, here we go: selfie for the Insta! [takes a picture of himself with the bag] Hashtag... hashbag.
JAKE: Where did you even get these plastic handcuffs?
AMIR: I'll ask the questions here. [pause] Ace Hardware.
JAKE: You just answered my question.
AMIR: They're gonna throw the book at you, you know that? And you know what else? I'm gonna let 'em! 'Cause I have a lot of pull in this court system-- don't ask me how or why.
JAKE: How and why?
AMIR: A judge ran over my face when I was six! Want to know the saddest part?
JAKE: That you survived.
AMIR: That I used to respect you. And now I know the truth about you... you're a drug.
JAKE: It's a little bit of weed! ...You loser!
AMIR: If I'm a loser, then I'm the biggest loser! Because truth be bold, I've got a quota to hit this month, and I am very much so under! Ever heard of bein' on thin ice? Well it is springtime, my friend, and I am swimmin' in the shit! I guess you could say I'm up Shit's Creek... with a paddle.
ROSIE: Hey... enough. Enough.
AMIR: Holy shit, you must be dumber than you look. I gave you a get-out-of-jail-free tard and you're throwin' it back in my face!
ROSIE: ...It's oregano.
JAKE AND AMIR: [simultaneously] What?
ROSIE: I've been... sellin' to Jake for two years; he says the stuff gets him really fucked-up. [chuckles] I don't... I don't sell drugs; I don't-- I don't even know where to... fuckin' buy drugs, man.
[Rosie takes off his cap. He suddenly looks completely different.]
ROSIE: I'm a phony.
JAKE: Bull-shite! I only smoke the dankest reefer.
AMIR: Aww. [on the phone] Code green, code green. This tween got stale herb. Call off the--
JAKE: Hey-- gimme the phone! Gimme the phone-- [on the phone] Officer? Officer, I am blazed, high, stoned, and gone! I need a slap on the wrist, and some munchie snacks! Yes. Yes, Your Honor.
AMIR: She's... not a judge--
JAKE I was gonna sprinkle it in a doobie. ...I cannot tell a high!
END