Previously on Black Dynamite...
Black Dynamite, I'm Donald, your accountant, and as your accountant,
I have an extremely urgent accounting matter I must discuss with ...
B.D.: I don't care if you're Merv Griffin, creator and host of "The Merv Griffin Show."
You need to make an appointment, like everybody else, Jack.
Damn it!
Hyah! [ grunts ]
B.D.: Ohh! Suey!
[ whack ] [ whack ]
- [ whack ] Black Dynamite? - B.D.: Huh?
[ shrieks ] You can't ignore this any longer.
I tried to make an appointment like you said, but ...
B.D.: My secretary bitch is out with the shit now, don't be interrupting my kung fu!
Suey! [ groans ]
[ gunshots ]
- B.D.: Man, can't this wait? - No, it can't, Black Dynamite.
- They are shooting. - B.D.: Fine. Get in.
[ tires squeal ] [ engine revs ]
What I've been trying to tell you is, you haven't filed income
taxes for 8 years. You owe the I.R.S. $60,000 and now they're going to
- fuckin' kill you! - B.D.: Is that what this shit is all about?
[ gunshots ] [ glass breaks ]
These motherfuckers can't be bargained with!
They can't be reasoned with. They don't feel pity or remorse or fear.
And they absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead
or broke or in jail... or both! Incoming!
[ tires screech ]
- B.D.: Donald, my accountant! - Black Dynamite, I'm not gonna
make it. [ coughs ] Please, promise me...
B.D.: Anything, man! Anything in the world.
...you'll make sure this form is postmarked by midnight on the 15th, or you... may...
be subject to... penalties. Ahh. I'm dead.
B.D.: I'm sorry, Donald the accountant. I should have listened to you sooner.
Looks like you're gonna need a new accountant, Black Dynamite.
B.D.: I've got until the 15th, you money-hungry
bureaucratic sons of bitches! Scram, I say! Scram!
[ theme music plays ]
♪ He's Dynamite ♪
♪ So Dynamite ♪
♪ Ooohhh, ooohhh ♪
♪ Ooohhh, ahhhh ♪
♪ He's Dynamite ♪
♪ Dy-no, dy-no ♪
♪ Ooohhh, ooohhh ♪
♪ Oooohhhh ♪
♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪
This week...
1x03 - Taxes and Death or Get Him to the Sunset Strip
[ funky music plays ] [ sirens wailing in distance ]
All: Surprise! Right before your eyes.
Honey Bee: Black Dynamite, we all heard
about your tax troubles with the I.R.S., so all the whores and the orphans in
this here Whorephanage got together to raise you some scratch.
These girls have already sucked every dick in a 10-mile radius.
Bullhorn: And me and Cream Corn planned this badass party last night to raise funds...
- and awareness for broke Black Dynamite! - Cream Corn: We sold a few
- thousand of these ... 2 for $5. - Honey Bee: Even these little nappy-headed orphans pitched in.
[ orphans chanting "save Black Dynamite!" ] B.D.: All right,
shut the fuck up when grown folks is strugglin'. I'd take this money if I didn't
need it, but now that do need it, there ain't no way I'm gonna take it. [ rip ]
Now get back out there on that block and get that money I don't need.
Bullhorn: Now I'm just thinkin' out loud, so this may
sound berserk, but maybe B.D. can make some
ends meet by puttin' in some mercenary work.
- Honey Bee: Now, that's a great idea, Bullhorn. - Cream Corn: That is a good...
B.D.: I think it's a terrible idea.
- Cream Corn: Yeah, is kind of terrible. - B.D.: The problem with taking
somebody's money to do a job is that they always expect something in return.
Cream Corn: Well, I guess we'll just have to come up with another plan, then.
B.D.: Not necessarily, because sometimes, a terrible idea is the best idea you got.
And if there's one thing I've learned, you always go with the best idea you got.
[ funky music plays ]
[ airplane tires screech ]
Thank you for coming, Black Dynamite.
I'm a motion-picture producer. That means that I produce motion pictures.
- What do you know about Richard Pryor? - B.D.: You mean the comedy man?
- Yes, the comedian. - B.D.: You say "tomato,"
- Black Dynamite says "toe-mah-toe." - We've already had massive
success filming Richard Pryor live in concert, and we got Richard Pryor here and now
without a hiccup. But for some reason, no one has been able to get Richard Pryor
live on the Sunset Strip, and that's where you come in, Black Dynamite.
- Take this. - B.D.: What is this?
- His inspiration. - Oh fuck,
why y'all didn't tell me the plane landed?
I was on the toilet taking a shit you know when you're sitting on
a plane, taking a shit and your ass get sucked down the toilet?
I didn't think my ass was ever gonna come back, Jack. I said, "take the shit but
- leave me shit". - Ha ha! Brilliant, Richie baby!
- But save it for the show. - What's happenin', Jack? My main man.
- Baddest fucker I ever met. Cocaine. - What's the matter,
Black Dynamite? You've never seen a black entertainer get high?
B.D.: No. It's just that nobody's ever left me hangin' before.
Oh fuck, is that all the cocaine we got? It's gonna be a long night,
Jack. I snothrough mothafucker and this little briefcase ain't doin' shit.
I fuck potential mothers, soon-to-be mothers, already mothers.
I'm a mothafucker. I never got no fuck when I was your age.
But livin' up in here? Y'all should be gettin' all of it.
Hoe come in the house, I'm 7 years old. I'm punchin' the [bleep] out the
[bleep] 'cause my [bleep] was too small. [ laughter ]
Uppercuttin' the [bleep] I'm knockin' [bleep] out daily. Say, baby, you remind me
- of my mama. - Honey Bee: Aw. Because I'm kind and nurturing?
No, bitch! 'Cause you got big titties and you sells good shit.
[ laughter ] Bullhorn: Man, Richard Pryor, you are on fire!
And you got enough meat on your nose to make a ham sandwich, boy!
Rhyming all the damn time. I can't tell if it's a trick, a tick, a talent, or tourrette's.
Cream Corn: You're the funniest man alive or dead.
Well, thank you, miss. [ laughter ]
Whores and orphans under one roof. Whose idea was this, anyway?
- B.D.: Mine. - Man, did you actually think about this shit before you
put the children and the whores within fuckin' distance of each other?
Hey, little kids. I'm Black Dynamite. I know you all ain't got no parents,
so how 'bout I replace them with a lifetime supply of [bleep].
B.D.: That is not what I silently said to myself inside my head!
Suey!
[ grunts ] Bullhorn: You may not find him funny, but you about to
- fuck all your money. - B.D.: Look here, Mr. Comedy man.
Now, I don't get you or your comedy jokes or comedy in general, but what I am
gonna get is you to the Sunset Strip so I can pay my damn taxes. Can you dig it?
[ doorbell rings ] Honey Bee: As a matter of fact, here goes a package from
- the I.R.S. right now. - B.D.: I.R.S.?! No!
♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪
Looks like I need to get the fuck up out of here. Let's go get something to eat
- before Black Dynamite kills us with his back taxes. - It's funny 'cause it's true.
Man, I tell you ... the I.R.S. ain't no joke, Jack.
Those mothafuckers will run right up in your ass to get they money.
You ever notice when you look at your check, it says
"F.E.C.A., F.I.C.A. fuck you out your money." and my accountant gonna tell me,
"good news, Richard. You're in the black." and I'm like, "sucker, you say
I got $2 million. Fuck! I want to see it ... in cash!
- Drive it to me in the brinks truck right now!" - B.D.: You mean to tell me
Hollywood really pays you all that money for standing around and talkin' shit?
That's right. But havin' people laugh at you all the time ain't all it's
cracked up to be. Sometimes, I just want my [bleep] hugged.
[ laughs ] Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Pryor?
Not unless you got some milk in them, titties. Big as them titties is,
shouldn't be a starving kid nowhere in Africa. Nah, baby.
I stopped drinking two minutes ago. [ laughs ]
[ slurring ] That is some bullshit.
Don't nobody believe you, Richard Pryor.
I know you don't believe me, mothafucker 'cause you mothafuckers
fuckin' say... "I'm drunk, and I'm the ugliest mothafucker up in here. I'm so ugly,
the tears roll down the back of my neck. When I cry, they don't want to be on my face."
B.D.: Okay, that's enough drinkin' and jivin', you drunk jive turkeys!
Oh, what you gonna do to me? Black Dynamite, I'm gonna kick
your fuckin' nuts and ass so the mothafuckin' bone. Do you hear me?
♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪
Man, did you see that? Them suckas got messed up, Jack,
fuckin' around with me and my boy. No shit!
Man, you got to show me how to do some of that stuff, Black Dynamite!
We could be like Blackman and Robin.
B.D.: Richard Pryor, give me that gun before you hurt somebody.
[ gunshots ] [ tire hisses ]
Mothafucker. [ camera shutter clicks ]
We bad. We bad. That's right mothafucka ...
We bad. This ain't Gene Wilder shit.
This is Black Dynamite, and we will whup your ass, Jack.
[ laughter ]
Do you know what we're in for? Puttin' a foot in a mothafucker's ass
and makin' it come out his mouth! You ever seen that before?
[ laughter continues ]
You think Richard Pryor's foot in your ass is a joke, boy?!
[ laughter continues ] You think I'm funny?! Well, I'm not!
[ laughter continues ]
I'm tired of pouring my heart out to shit and all you do
is laugh. Stop laughing at me. I'm serious.
[ laughter continues, distorts ]
[ grunts ] [ metal clangs ]
B.D.: Shut the fuck up when groan men's is cryin'.
[ cricket chirping ] [ cricket laughing ]
[ laughing stops ] Richard Pryor? This better not be one of your
comedy jokes, because Black Dynamite don't ever hold no grown man in his arms like a
baby when he's cryin' and weepin'... Especially a comedy man.
Man, fuck the comedy man and his mama! I don't want to make these
mothafuckers laugh. I got some real shit to say, man.
I know how to cut through the bullshit, but don't nobody care when I say it.
- It's always the same. - Did you hear what he said?
He said, "it's always the same." He said, "it's always the same"! [ laughing ]
See what I mean? When you talk, people listen. They take your ass serious.
You ain't really got shit to say, but they listen, and that's what I want.
I want somebody to listen so I can teach them somethin'. [ cell door opens ]
Pryor, Richard! Dynamite, Black!
You made bail!
We bad. We bad. That's right, mothafucker, we bad.
[ laughter ] I just peed on myself!
- B.D.: What's this? - 'Bout 200 kilos' worth of money.
B.D.: I thought all that brinks truck talk was just one of your little funnies,
- Richard Pryor. - Man, I told your ass ... I don't joke.
How 'bout I pay your tax bill, you look the other way, and we both get to walk away with a
- cool little story to tell? - B.D.: I can't do that, Richard Pryor.
Black Dynamite don't ever break his words. Black Dynamite's words and
Black Dynamite's balls is all Black Dynamite has in this life. That, plus my bitches, my car,
an exquisite wardrobe, and a bunch of more, other shit...but my point is, Black Dynamite
said he would get Richard Pryor live on the Sunset Strip, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do.
A'ight, man. I can dig it. Keep your word and your balls.
- Oh fuck! Is that the I.R.S.?! - B.D.: I thought I told you
internal revenue mothafuckers that Black Dynamite was gonna get your money!
I'm workin' on it! [ engine turns over ] [ tires squeal ]
- What about my taxes, Richard Pryor?! - You better get you some scratch-offs, sucker!
[ horn blows ] # Dynamite! Dynamite!
Bullhorn: Man, crazy rich done busted loose with all of that money, and he can be
- anywhere by now. And that shit ain't funny. - Honey Bee: Tomorrow's the
15th, and the I.R.S. has threatened to put a lien on this Whorephanage.
- What we gon' do?! - B.D.: Look here, Honey Bee.
Ain't nobody leanin' on Black Dynamite's whores or his orphans. Can you dig it?
Cream Corn: Which reminds me, I promised to drop my mama's 1099s off at the
post office. Hey, Black Dynamite, they didn't repossess your ride yet, did they?
- I'll just walk. - Maybe I can get the girls to stop suckin' and
- fuckin' for an hour, and they can find Richard Pryor. - B.D.: Nah, let them
keep suckin' and fuckin', Honey Bee. I've been to every hot spot,
cathouse, nightclub, drug spot, and gambling den in town.
- Honey Bee: And...? - B.D.: [ sighs ] He's been in every last one of them.
Bullhorn: Wait, Black Dynamite! There's someone I know that can
help us find Richard Pryor and get him to the show.
[ doorbell rings ]
Richard's not here. What do you want?
- B.D.: How did you know ... - I know you've got a Richard Pryor problem, 'cause no one
shows up to Paul Mooney's pad unannounced unless they've got a Richard Pryor problem.
I've been livin' in that brother's light-skinned shadow all of my life.
- B.D.: Can you help us find him? - Is a pig's shit pork?
- Where did you last see him? - B.D.: In a brinks truck filled with 2 million big ones.
That's what I was afraid of. You were trying to get him to
the Sunset Strip, weren't you? [ switch clicks ] [ tribal music plays ]
You see, Richard thinks that if he goes to the Sunset Strip, then all he'll ever be is one of
the greatest comedians that ever lived. Richard wants more than that.
He wants to be like Malcolm X.
[ laughter ] See? That's the problem.
B.D.: Well, besides being a comedy man that nobody will ever take serious, what's stopping him?
You mean, besides the cocaine, the quaaludes, valium, white women,
mother issues, father issues, racism, vodka, pork shit and fame?
- B.D.: That don't cover it? - Richard's got that shit
and that shinola. You can't have shinola without the shit.
Because the truth lives in the shit, the shit is where you find wisdom.
The shit is what reminds you that your shit stinks.
- It keeps your feet on the ground. - Bullhorn: Paul Mooney, you
might sound deep, but you look jungle fuckin' loony.
[ tribal music plays ]
[ music stops ]
B.D.: Man, what the hell are we doing out here with...
- Paul Mooney, anyway? - [ sniffs ] Wait, wait!
I smell something cooking. [ sniffs ] Cocaine...
[ sniffs ] ...and a man's flesh. It's him!
- Honey Bee: Aaah! - Bullhorn: There goes Richard Pryor!
He's naked and literally on fire!
[ panting ]
Huh? He went that way!
- It's time to break out the heavy weapons. - B.D.: What's that?
All of Richard's greatest hits ... cocaine, vodka tonic, and white-woman saliva.
He's responded well to these in the past when all else has failed.
Oh fuck! Aaaaaaah!
[ thud ] Damn! Why... are... you... doing...
- this... to... me?! - False alarm. He's not Richard Pryor.
You think Richard Pryor's the only basehead to ever catch on fire, man?
- B.D.: Then why did you run, basehead? - I was on fire, man! I was about
to put myself out, and then you mothafuckers started chasin' me.
What the hell was I supposed to do? [ bird trills ]
Oh fuck, that's my accountant.
Did you guys know that taxes were due by midnight tonight?
I got to fly. [ coop]
♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪
B.D.: Donald, you were more than just an accountant.
You were my accountant. But now, you're just a dead accountant lying in this grave.
If I could do it all over again, I would've made time to talk to you.
I would've filed quarterly and kept my business and personal receipts separate.
I cannot bring you back to life, but I can come back and engrave "avenged" on your tombstone.
30 minutes to showtime, Black Dynamite. You got your tickets.
I've got mine. If you don't have our money, you'll be sleeping
with the fishes, right here, beside Donald ... in the dirt.
B.D.: Black Dynamite ain't never slept with a fish or laid in a grave
in his whole life, and he damn sure ain't gonna start now! [ gun cocks ]
Go on. Shoot, Black Dynamite.
Kill me, and two more agents will pop up in my place. And if you kill those two
agents, four more will take over for them. Kill those 4, and you'll find
yourself dealing with 8. Waste those 8, now you've got 16 I.R.S.
agents following you wherever you go. Go ahead and kill those 16...
B.D.: Cream Corn? Honey Bee? Bullhorn?
The I.R.S. honky is right. Ain't but two things certain in this world ...
we're gonna be taxed by the I.R.S. and we're gonna be kill by the I.R.S.
We might as well go back to the Whorephanage, board up the windows, give everybody assault
- rifles, and wait for the final shootout. - ...4 and 64 equals 128, and
do you know what 128 times 2 is? 256!
All... up... in... your...ass, Black Dynamite!
[ brakes squeal ] [ laughing ]
- B.D.: Wait. I hear something. - That was some serious shit.
B.D.: It sounds like... shit being talked.
[ laughter ] It was at Hershey bar. Fuckin' around and ate
the mothafucker smelled like I had a fuckin' sandwich for breakfast.
Hey, baby, can I get a swig?
You think you got problems? I had a brinks truck with $2 million 48 hours ago,
and I bet you were sitting in the same shit you're sitting in now. [ laughter ]
Man, you right, Richard, man. I am sittin' in shit but you make us feel like we
ain't sittin' in shit no matter how much shit we're sittin' in.
- That's fuckin' crazy. - B.D.: Look at him. All he's got is his dirty
drawers, his half-skunked jug of wine, and you, Richard Pryor. Well, mothafucker that
reminds me... a funny thing happened while I was gone. I gambled away $2 million ...
plus 4 more in I.O.U.S ... to some kung fu gangsters from Chinatown.
And they want to kick my ass. [ cardoor slams ]
[ chinese accent ] Richard Pryor!
You in big trouble with little Chinatown gang. Aaaaaah!
- Oh fuck! - B.D.: Richard Pryor,
I'm gonna get you live on the Sunset Strip, and then I'm gonna kill you dead.
Mothafucker. Run, boy!
[ funky music plays ]
- Oh, my god! It's Richard Pryor! - What?! [ all screaming ]
- B.D.: Richard, cut it out! - One thing I know how to do is run!
[ grunts ]
Suey!
Aaaaah! Daaah!
[ grunts ] Aaaaah!
- Suey! - Fuck, get me down!
Aaaaaaaah! Suey! Suey!
Daaaah! Suey!
Hey, little fat troll! Oh! There you are!
I heard you wanted Richard Pryor live on the Sunset Strip. Well, here I is.
- You think this is funny? - Actually, I do, mothafucker.
B.D.: I took care of that gambling debt for you, Richard Pryor.
Those kung fu gangsters from Chinatown won't be bothering you no more.
I'm not paying you to deal with kung fu gangsters from Chinatown.
If you ever want to work in Hollywood again, Black Dynamite, I advise you to do your job!
- You're my mercenary ... all mine! - B.D.: Now, you wait a minute, Mr. Movie producer.
I got Richard here, just like I said I would. Whether he gets up on stage is
up to him and his cocaine. So I suggest you give him a break, 'cause
he's been dealin' with a lot of heavy on his mind. Can you dig?
Look, Richard! We got your inspiration!
- Come and get it! - My main man!
B.D.: No! Cocaine is not your main man, Richard Pryor!
Fine! So be it. You think you're the first incredibly talented person of
color to take show business by storm, only to be driven insane by the pressures of a system
that's designed to suck them dry and leave them dead in a heap of cocaine?!
- Well, you won't be the last! - He's right! Man, it's hopeless, man.
- I'm-a jump! - B.D.: Don't jump, man!
[ electricity buzzes ] Oh fuck, fuck what I just said, Richard Pryor!
- Jump! Jump!! - What?
Oh fuck! Why didn't somebody tell me I was on fire?!
B.D.: Suey!
♪ Dynamite! Dynamite!
Very dramatic. Very touching. If you don't get
on that stage now, I swear to god I will personally see to it that you
and everything you ever worked for comes crashing down! [ all gasp ]
Aaaaaaah!
B.D.: Burn, Hollywood! Burn! Ha ha!
Get it? Burn! Ha ha!
- Hy-sterical. - Smashed honky is not hy-sterical.
But it is funny. [ both laugh ]
B.D.: Look, Richard Pryor, at first, I didn't get you or your comedy jokes.
Even though the whole world is laughin' at you, just know that Black Dynamite
- takes you seriously. - Here. You earned this, Black Dynamite.
- B.D.: That's why it's called mercenary work. - Thank you, Black Dynamite.
That takes care of your federal, but the city and state will be by this afternoon to get theirs,
- and they're not as nice as us! [ laughs ] - No, that's hy-sterical.
Mothafuckers thanks, y'all. Maybe I should be grateful for
my blessin's. Maybe big muscles aren't everything.
B.D.: Well, now you're just talkin' crazy, Richard Pryor.
[ cheers and applause ]
I have a feeling that little comedy man's gonna inspire
a whole generation of nobodies to be somebodies. And when that happens...
My main man! Cocaine!
[ theme music plays ]
sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ addic7ed.com ~