narco tourist

"nerd alert"

Jord: …so then this van coming down the road just swerves and BOOM hits him straight on as he's turning around.

Jon: Hey. I took the first flight out here that I could get. Where is he?
Anthony: ICU.
Jon: Jeez. What are we lookin' at?
Anthony: Concussion of the penis.
Jon: That's it?
Anthony: Have you ever been hit in the groin…
Jon: Of course.
Anthony: …at 85 miles per hour?
Jon: Good point.
Anthony: Plus, I heard that he's got broken bones and internal hemorrhaging too.
Jon: Oh. [pause] I wanna see him. What room is he in?
Anthony: Dunno. The hospital staff won't let me back there.
Jon: [to Receptionist] Excuse me, miss. Hi. I'm looking for a friend of mine.
Receptionist: Name?
Jon: James Rorrigan Hornblower.
[Receptionist checks her computer]
Receptionist: I'm sorry, sir. There's no patient named James Hornblower in the system.
Jon: Whaaa? That can't be right.
[Receptionist checks her computer again]
Receptionist: Nope. I'm not gettin' anything.
Jon: Try searching for the name "Rory Hornblower" then.
[Receptionist checks her computer]
Receptionist: Huh. It says here that we admitted a Rory John Patrick Hornblower from Woodbridge, New Jersey today. Is that who you're looking for?
Jon: John Pa— Jersey? Are you sure about that?
Receptionist: Yeah.
Jon: Lemme see. [reading Receptionist's computer monitor] Rory John Patrick Hornblower – born October 6, 1981 in Woodbridge, New J… Why that lying son of a bitch! He's from…JERSEY? Motherfucker!
Receptionist: Sir, you can't go back there!
Jon: You think you're the first woman to say that to me?
Receptionist: Security!

Jord: The driver ran off right after the crash. I didn't get a good look at him. He was white…if that helps.

[door slams open]
Jon: HORNBLOWER! You lying sack of shit!
[Jon jumps onto hospital bed and assaults Rory]
Receptionist: What are you doing? Get off the bed!
Jon: [while assaulting Rory] Why didn't you fucking tell me that you were from fucking…Jersey?
Receptionist: Sir, please! He's in a coma!
Jon: [to Rory's comatose face] I'm-a videotape myself fucking your dog in the ass and send it to all the TV stations in Jersey so it'll air throughout the state and then everybody will know just what a horrible New Jerseyan you are, letting your best friend FUCK YOUR DOG IN THE ASS! How do you like them apples?
Receptionist: Calm down, sir!
Jon: Okay. [breathes deeply] 3-2-1…1-2-3…what the heck is bothering me? [pause] Talented Mr. Ripley believe it or FUCKING not!
[Jon launches another assault on Rory]
Jon: [while assaulting Rory] Goddamn cracker fucksti—
Security Man: Freeze! Hands behind your head!
Jon: Heh. No…
Security Man: Come again?
Jon: No. The hospital's under new management now. Everybody does exactly what I say, nobody will get hurt.
Security Man: Fuck that!
[Security Man shoots Jon in the foot]
Jon: ARGH!!! You asshole!
Security Man: Get him outta here. [to Receptionist] What was up with that guy?
Receptionist: Something about New Jersey triggered a subconscious pent-up psychotic seizure of uncontained violent animal rage.
Security Man: Kinda like Jayson Williams.

Jord: A motive? Hell if I know. Maybe the driver was drunk. Or maybe the Romanian Electronics Emporium had it out for him. Don't you find a van that says "Romanian Electronics Emporium" on its side awfully suspicious? Never seen any Romanian electronics stores in Arizona before. Then again, I would never go outta my way to buy electronic products from a Romanian.
Detective: Right. Well, I think we have all the information we need.
Jord: Cool.
Detective: Thank you for your cooperation today.
Jon: GET THESE HANDCUFFS OFF ME!
[doors slam open]
Jon: I didn't do anything wrong!
Cop: Beating up a comatose guy lying in a hospital bed in the intensive care unit – I'd say that's somewhat wrong, don't you think?
Detective: What do we got?
Cop: The whacko who went berserk in the hospital.
Jon: I'm not crazy!
Cop: Sure you aren't.
Jon: I'm not! I'm not cra— JORD!!! Jord! It's me! Jon Yu! Tell them I'm not crazy, Jord!
Detective: [to Jord] You know this guy?
Jord: Uh…yee. I talk to him online.
Detective: And?
Jord: He's a complete nutjob. Bob calls him Sodom Insane.
Jon: Jord! What the fuck, dude?
Jord: If I were you, I'd be careful around him.
Jon: I thought you were my friend! You called me witty! I'm not crazy; I'm witty, dammit!
Detective: Throw him in the cuckoo room.
Jon: The cuckoo room? Oh you've got to be kidding. This is unreal. You're not real. You're not real! [touches a desk] This is real. [touches a desk lamp] This is real. [looks at Detective] YOU'RE NOT REAL!
Detective: Take him away.
Jon: [while being dragged away] Roberts, when I get outta here, I'm-a turn your nutsack into a maraca! You got that? A maraca! A FUCKING MARACA!
Detective: Is he always like this?
Jord: Pretty much.
Detective: Fuck me. [sigh] Anyway, you're free to go. You can pick up your belongings at the depot.
Jord: Aight. Have a nice day. [to himself as he walks away] Fuckin' cops.
[Jord goes to the depot]
Cop: One watch – gold. One cigarette lighter – gold. One wallet – brown. One pack of cigarettes.

to be continued…

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