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