英文片名: men in black
中文片名: 黑超特警组 mib星际战警
上映: 1997
men in black -- movie script
** disclaimer & credits **
this script was transcribed by paul rudoff
script copyright © 1997 columbia pictures industries, inc.
all rights reserved.
men in black
by
ed solomon
ext. road -- texas/mexico border -- night
a million stars wink in the night desert sky. down here on earth, an
insect, one of those big, beautiful, multicolored four-winged jobs, glides
effortlessly on the breeze, wafting along through the crisp texas air.
the insect dips, it banks, it does loop-the-loops -- and then splats
unceremoniously against the windshield of a white van that's tearing down
the road.
int. van -- texas/mexico border -- night
the driver of the van, a fifty-year-old american, turns on the wipers,
smearing the remains all over.
driver
goddamn bugs.
he squirts some wiper fluid onto the glass, which clears it up a bit, but
now he sees something worse up ahead. it's a grouping of headlights, eight
of them, all pointed at him, sealing off the road.
he bites his lip and calls over his shoulder, to the back of the van. he
speaks in spanish, which is subtitled.
driver (cont'd)
deja me hablar.
(let me do the talking.)
ext. road -- texas/mexico border -- night
the van slows to a stop in front of the parked cars, all government-issue
four doors with 'ins' stenciled on the sides. seven or eight ins agents
stand in front of the cars imposingly. their apparent leader steps forward
and comes to the window.
the driver rolls it down. agent janus, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, also
government issue, looks at him and sighs.
agent janus
well. nick the dick. what a surprise. where
you comin' from?
driver
i was fishing in cuernavaca.
agent janus
sure you were. what do you say we have a
look at your catch?
at the back of the van,
the agents fling open the rear doors, revealing a dozen frightened
mexicans, hopeful immigrants without official permission. agent janus
looks at the driver, who's now held by two other agents, and shakes his
head.
agent janus
me, i woulda thrown 'em back.
(to the passengers, in spanish)
vamanos. fuera. hagan una lina!
(let's go. out. form a line!)
they pile out of the van. some are parents with small children.
agent janus (cont'd)
what do you get, nick? hundred bucks a
head? two hundred? i hope you saved it all
for your lawyer, pal, 'cause you're gonna
need --
he stops in the middle of his sentence, as another car is approaching,
fast, its engine whining as it barrels down the road toward them. several
agents pull their weapons.
the new car pulls a hard right, goes off the road, spins around the ins
cars, and squeals to a sideways halt, silhouetted in front of their
headlights. it's a boxy, black 1986 ford ltd.
two men get out, dressed in plain black suits, crisp white shirts, simple
black ties, shiny black shoes. kay, fiftyish, is the apotheosis of
world-weary; his partner, dee, mid-sixties, is just weary. they approach
the ins agents.
kay
we'll take it from here.
agent janus
who the hell are you?
kay and dee flash some form of id.
kay
ins spanision 6.
agent janus
spanision 6? i never heard of spanision 6.
kay
really?
kay and dee move past him and approach the row of nervous immigrants.
kay (cont'd)
what're we thinking, dee?
dee
tough call, kay.
he walks down the row, studying the faces, greeting each one cheerily in
spanish.
kay
!oye! que pasa, coma estas? hey!
(what's up, how are you?)
no se preocupe, abuela. bienvenida a los
estados unidos.
(don't worry grandma.
welcome to the united
states.)
(next)
a donde vas? san antonio? buscando trabajo,
no? buena suerta.
(where are you going? san
antonio? looking for
work, aren't you? good
luck.)
(next)
es un placer verle aqui.
(it's a pleasure seeing
you here.)
one by one, their faces relax, reassured by kay's calm demeanor. when he
reaches the fifth guy, he keeps the same cheery tone, but:
kay (cont'd)
que dices si te rompo la cara?
(what do you say if i
break your face?)
the guy smiles and nods. kay stops. his own smile broadens and he drops a
hand on the guy's shoulder.
kay (cont'd)
no hablas ni una palabra del espanol,
verdad, amigo?
(you don't speak a word
of spanish, right, friend?)
again, the guy smiles and nods. kay looks back at dee.
kay (cont'd)
we got a winner.
(to the others)
los restos estan libres a irse. largense!
(the rest of you are free
to go. scram!)
agent janus
sir!
kay
tomen el camion, y vayeuse.
(get on the road and go.)
agent janus
sir, you can't just --
kay
don't 'sir' me! you have no idea who you're
dealing with!
silence on the road. the driver grins, jumps back in the front seat of the
van. the others pile into the rear and they tear out of there.
kay (cont'd)
(to janus)
we're gonna have a little chat with our
friend here. you boys can hit the road ...
and keep on protecting us from dangerous
aliens.
kay and dee escort their captive across the road and over a small rise,
leaving the stunned ins agents standing alone in the roadway.
agent janus
you ever heard of spanision 6?
2nd ins agent
there is no spanision 6.
3rd ins agent
who are those guys?
ext. desert clearing - night
kay and dee lead their captive into a clearing in the desert brush. dee
pulls an enormous handgun from a shoulder holster and stays a pace or two
off, covering him. kay has an arm draped around the man's shoulders.
kay
i think you jumped off the bus in the wrong
part of town, amigo. in fact, i'll bet
dollars to pesos that you're not --
he pulls out a small laser device, which he zips neatly down the front of
the man's clothes.
kay (cont'd)
-- from anywhere near here.
the man's clothes fall to the ground, revealing what he really is
underneath -- a scaly space bastard, about four-and-a-half feet tall, with
a snouth, snail-like tentacles, and independently moving eyes on stalks at
the top of his head.
the only part of his camouflage not crumpled to the ground is the
humanesque 'head,' which he still lamely holds in one of his hands. it's
propped up by a stick, like a puppet, and it continues to make expressions
as he holds it.
kay (cont'd)
mikey?! when did they let you out of jail?
mikey replies -- an unfathomable combination of grunts, squeaks, and
saliva.
kay (cont'd)
political refugee. right.
dee
you know how many treaty articles you've
just violated?
mikey makes a lame squeak.
kay
one, my ass. try seven.
dee
from unauthorized immigration to failure to
properly inoculate prior to landing.
kay
(off mikey's objections)
okay, that's enough. hand me your head and
put up your arms.
from behind mikey, they hear a terrified gasp.
kay and dee both look over quickly. one of the alien's eyes, on a tall
stalk, whips around too. all three of them see agent janus, standing just
over the rise, staring in frozen amazement.
kay (cont'd)
ah, shit.
agent janus screams. mikey rips free of the rest of the 'mexican'
disguise, knocks dee out of the way, and takes off straight at janus,
screeching a horrible space bastard screech. janus freezes, terrified.
kay (cont'd)
dee! shoot him!
dee struggles to roll over and change the controls on his gun, which fell
out of his hand as he hit the ground.
kay (cont'd)
dee, for christ's --
mikey keeps moving, covering the last few yards to janus quickly. he steps
on a rock, launches himself into the air, his dripping jaws cranked wide
open --
-- there is a sizzling sound, a brilliant white flash --
-- and mikey erupts in a geyser of blue goo that splatters all over the
ground, the trees, and agent janus' face. behind where mikey was, kay
stands, smoking weapon in hand.
ext. road -- texas/mexico border -- night
on the road, the ins agents pull their guns and run toward the rise.
ext. desert clearing -- night
kay has an arm around janus, whom he is leading further into the clearing.
janus is white, shaking, eyes like silver dollars.
agent janus
th -- th -- th --
kay
(helping)
'that.'
agent janus
that wasn't -- wasn't -- wasn't --
kay
human, i know. oops. got some entrails on
you.
he takes out a handkerchief and wipes off the agent's face. as he does,
janus looks back to where mikey blew up. then at kay. and then up at the
stars.
the other ins agents burst over the rise, shouting questions.
kay
okay, everybody, situation's under control,
calm down. if you'll just give me your
attention for a moment i'll tell you what
happened.
from over the rise, car engines whine in the distance and headlights start
to flash around them. kay reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tubular
metallic device the size of a pocket recorder. he checks his watch,
figures in his head, then dials an electronic counter on the side of the
device up to '08.'
kay (cont'd)
this is called a 'neuralyzer.' a gift from
some friends from out of town. the red eye
here isolates and measures the electronic
impulses in your brain. more specifically,
the ones for memory.
behind him, six more men in black, all wearing black suits and sunglasses,
come over the hill. kay barks a few orders to them.
kay (cont'd)
gimme a splay burn on the perimeter, please;
holes at 40, 60, and 80.
2nd ins agent
what in the hell is going on?!
kay
exactly the right question. and the answer
lies right -- here. pay attention.
janus
who are you, really?
kay
really? i'm just a figment of your
imagination.
he holds up the neuralyzer. the agents peer closely at it. kay reaches
into his pocket, puts on his own black sunglasses --
-- and pushes a button on the side of the neuralyzer. a blinding flash a
tenth of a second long sears the agents' eyeballs. they stare blankly.
kay (cont'd)
god, we're a gullible breed.
behind him, tongues of fire blast from a flame thrower held by one of the
men in black. kay looks back at the ins agents, who are just coming
around, as if awakening from a concussion.
kay (cont'd)
i mean it, fellas, you are lucky to be
alive after a blast like that.
the agents look around, confused.
agent janus
what -- blast?
kay gestures behind him, where the men in black are now using fire
extinguishers to douse the flames they themselves started.
kay
underground gas vein, genius. you guys need
to exercise more caution before discharging
your firearms.
he jabs a finger into janus' chest.
kay (cont'd)
especially you.
dee has moved away from them all and is sitting on a rock, staring up at
the night sky, his sunglasses dangling idly from one hand. kay steps away
from the group and finds him. he sits down next to him.
dee
i'm sorry. about...back there.
kay
happens.
dee
didn't used to.
he holds up his hands, which tremble with age.
dee (cont'd)
the spirit's willing, kay, but the rest of
me...
he looks up, at the million stars shining overhead.
dee (cont'd)
they're beautiful, aren't they?
kay
what?
dee
the stars. we never just -- look. anymore.
(back to kay)
i'll tell ya, kay. i will miss the chase.
kay pulls his neuralyzer from his pocket and looks down at it.
kay
no. you won't.
ext. grand central station -- southern exposure -- night
a shot of the clock on the station's stately southern exposure. we pan
down to...
a pair of feet running. they belong to a man we will know as the
perpetrator. as we track with him, he speeds up and out of frame.
a new set of feet come into frame. these belong to james edwards, a nyc
cop in undercover street clothes. in the background, about ten feet
behind, are two other cops, trying to keep up.
edwards is a lot faster, though. he pulls out his badge that hangs from a
chain under his shirt.
edwards
stop! nypd!
he continues running, out of frame, and we stay on one of the other cops,
overweight, who gives up the chase and drops to his knees, heaving air.
cop
all yours, edwards!
the cop fumbles in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes.
track with edwards and the perp
as they run down the bridge that traverses park avenue in the low forties.
the perp veers to the left and, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it's
a thirty-foot drop, he hurdles the guard rail, and drops to forty-first
street below.
edwards is surprised by this maneuver, but doesn't waste a second. he,
too, hurdles the guard rail and lands on...
ext. 41st street and park avenue - night
a double-decker bus, one of those cheesy sightseers that hold up midtown
traffic. the bus, of course, is completely filled with japanese tourists,
and it seems like every single one of them has a video camera.
edwards pushes through the crowd...
edwards
grand central station off to your left,
folks...
with the bus still moving, he scrambles down the circular stairs and runs
out through the side door.
he spots the perp, sailing east on forty-first street.
edwards
dammit, man, you're making me sweat up my
gear!
edwards spots one of those new york post delivery trucks, the kind with
the open back door, rumbling by. he runs and jumps into the back.
ext. fifth avenue -- night
the perp, meanwhile, is running at top speed, when edwards glides into
frame, leaning off the back of the truck.
edwards
yo, man, your luck just ran out.
he leaps from the back of the moving truck and tackles the perp.
the perp, now straddled by edwards, is terrified.
perp
he's coming! he's coming!
edwards
and when he gets here, i'll kick his ass
too.
edwards is about to slap the cuffs on him, when the perp blinks. nothing
unusual about that, but then another set of translucent, milky white
eyelids, underneath his regular eyelids, blinks also.
edwards is thrown for a moment, which is all the time the perp needs to
pull out...
his weapon, which is the strangest looking gun you've ever seen. reacting
quickly, edwards bats it out of the perp's hand.
the weapon smashes into the stone wall surrounding central park and
shatters into a million pieces.
edwards
what the...
whomp! the perp kicks him in the nuts, then scrambles to his feet and
takes off again. edwards staggers after him, in pain.
the perp leaps over a moving car, towards the guggenheim museum. edwards
tries to follow, but a bus pulls in front of him. after it passes, the
perp is gone.
ext. guggenheim museum -- night
edwards runs over to the museum, leans over the wall that surrounds it,
and in the next instant...
the perp flies past him, having leapt from twenty feet down to the top of
the guggenheim. he scrambles up and over the ledge.
edward reacts. he runs to the front door of the museum, shoots it open and
runs inside.
he runs from the rotunda up the grand ramp of the guggenheim.
ext. guggenheim museum -- roof -- night
on the roof, the perp reaches the top, climbs over the edge, and crunches
to the gravel surface. he leaps to his feet and races over to a door. it's
locked.
he tugs on another. it's locked too. he pulls on a third. it swings open --
-- revealing edwards on the other side, breathing hard. he aims his weapon
at the perp.
edwards
wassup?
the perp screams inhumanly and panics. he backpedals, toward the edge of
the roof.
perp
he's coming! he's coming because i failed,
and now he'll kill me too!
edwards
stop!
perp
you don't understand. your world is gonna
end.
but the perp has backed right into the edge of the roof, and now he starts
to fall over. the perp blinks.
edwards
what are you?!
the perp looks down. he decides.
-- and he falls, screaming, to his death.
cut to:
int. interrogation room -- night
edwards sits on one side of the table, a police inspector and a uniformed
sergeant (the one who gave up the chase and lit a cigarette earlier), sit
across from him.
inspector
perpetrator then blinked two sets of
eyelids. you mean blinked with both eyes?
edwards
no, sir. he blinked once with one set, then
again with another completely different set.
sergeant
sort of a low beam, high beam.
inspector
was that before or after he drew the weapon
which you claim evaporated into a million
pieces?
edwards
after, sir.
inspector
and why do you suppose none of the other
officers saw either of these two events?
edwards
'cause some of the other officers are a
little soggy in the midsection. and they
couldn't keep up, sir.
sergeant
hey, edwards, if you were half the man i
am --
edwards
what do you mean? i am half the man you are.
sergeant
what the hell is your problem?
edwards
my problem is you being all up in my damn
face all the time.
sergeant
i think he threw him off the roof. ten
minutes -- your best shot.
inspector
(cutting off the sergeant)
sergeant. i want to talk to you outside.
now.
edwards
you need ten minutes on a stairmaster, you
pudgy bastard.
int. interrogation room -- later -- night
a woman sneaks into the room. doctor laurel weaver, thirtyish,
dark-haired, dark-eyed, general aura of darkness around her, stands above
him. laurel looks like she was just dragged out of bed (which she was) and
saw a spaceman (which she did). she looks over her shoulder once, then
whispers to him.
laurel
laurel weaver. deputy medical examiner. i
believe you. i opened him up. find me at
the morgue. on 26th. i'll tell you what i
found.
edwards
hey...wait a minute. wait a minute.
laurel
(turning at the door)
you have really pretty eyes.
she hurries to turn the corner, but is stopped by someone who remains just
offscreen.
voice (o.s.)
dr. weaver, from the coroner's office?
working on the john doe?
edwards twists in his chair, to get a better look. all he sees is laurel,
facing whoever it is in the hallway.
laurel
yes. that's right.
voice (o.s.)
would you look right here, please.
the someone says something else and laurel steps forward, now also out of
edwards's line of vision.
laurel (o.s.)
look where?
edwards stretches even further in his seat, when there is a blinding flash
from the corridor. really curious now, he starts to get up --
-- when kay steps into the room and closes the door behind him. edwards
rolls his eyes.
kay
some night, huh?
edwards
oh, yeah, some night.
he crosses to the door.
kay
they were gills.
edwards stops.
kay
not eyelids.
edwards
who are you?
kay
did he say anything to you?
edwards
(scoffing)
yeah, sure. he said the world was coming to
an end.
kay
did he say when?
edwards
you're kidding, right?
kay
would you recognize his weapon if you saw
it again?
edwards
absolutely.
kay
let's take a ride.
edwards
wait a minute. i got a ton of paperwork.
kay
it's all done.
at that point, the inspector sticks his head in, smiles and gives edwards
the thumbs up.
inspector
good work, edwards.
edwards looks at the inspector, then at kay. as they leave.
kay
you ran that guy down on foot? that's tough.
that's double tough.
cut to:
int. ford ltd - a moment later - driving
in a plain, boxy ford, kay drives, silent. he raises his hand and nods to
a black mib truck coming in the opposite direction.edwards, in the
passenger seat, is still in his undercover outfit.
edwards
so who you with?
kay says nothing.
edwards (cont'd)
you got the plain clothes, the
government-issued wheels. secret service?
cia?
kay remains utterly silent.
edwards (cont'd)
(referring to the car)
yeah, well, whoever it is, you're short on
funding.
kay
nothing is what it seems, kid.
edwards
oh, yeah, my bad '86 ford ltd. that's a
luxury ride. c'mon, who ya with?
kay pulls the car to a stop.
kay
i'm part of a secret organization that
monitors and polices alien activity on earth.
kay opens the door and gets out of the car. edwards follows.
ext. pawn shop - night
edwards looks around. sees they're standing in front of a pawn shop.
edwards
this is where we're going?
they get out of the car.
edwards (cont'd)
jack jeebs? guy buys from chain snatchers.
doesn't even sell guns.
kay
really?
edwards
all right, you think it's worth shaking him
up, fine. i'll do my thing. then i want some
answers.
kay
do your 'thing,' kid. edwards goes inside.
int. pawn shop - night
jack jeebs is the sleazy, sarcastic proprietor of the pawn shop. he's not
easily intimidated.
jeebs
officer edwards. oh, hey, geez, how'd these
get here? i thought i turned 'em in to the
proper authorities.
he casually brushes some rolexes off the counter.
edwards
way i hear it, jeebs, you into something a
little hotter than some stolen rolexes.
jeebs
sure -- i'm a big crack dealer now. i just
work here because i love the hours.
this pisses edwards off. he grabs jeebs by the collar.
edwards
(getting angry)
i'm talking about guns, jeebs. high-tech
stuff.
jeebs
c'mon, edwards, whatcha see is what i got.
kay (o.s.)
why don't you show him the imports, jeebs.
at the sound of kay's voice, jeebs suddenly pales, a look of fear coming
over his face.
jeebs
h-hiya kay, how are you?
kay
the imports, jeebs. now.
jeebs
you know i got outta that business a long
time ago, kay.
kay
why do you lie to me? i hate it when you
lie.
he pulls his own gun and aims it at jeebs' forehead.
jeebs
whoa, whoa, kay, hold on a minute here...
kay
i'm going to count to three.
edwards, seeing that kay is getting somewhere, joins in the routine.
edwards
he'll do it, jeebs.
kay
one.
edwards
i've seen him do it.
kay
two.
edwards
talk to me, jeebs, he's crazy when he's
like this.
jeebs
he's always crazy.
(to kay)
take a cruise. get a massage --
kay
three.
ka-boom! kay blows jeebs' head off and jeebs' body collapses to the floor.
edwards is shocked.
edwards pulls his own weapon and points it at kay's head.
edwards
put down the gun and put your hands on the
counter!
kay
i warned him.
edwards
drop the weapon!
kay
you warned him.
edwards
you are under arrest. you have the right to
remain silent.
kay
will you relax?
jeebs (o.s.)
(irritated)
don't do that.
edwards whirls around to see jeebs' body, growing another head. only takes
four or five seconds. kay calmly shoves his gun up against jeebs'
baby-soft new cheek.
jeebs (cont'd)
do you know how much that hurts?
kay
show us what you got, jeebs. or i'll use up
another one.
jeebs, panicked, hits a button on the underside of the counter, which
promptly flips over, revealing yet another dusty shelf, piled high with
junk --
-- but this is all alien junk. weapons, mostly, bizarre, otherworldly
weapons of all shapes and sizes.
kay
edwards?
edwards, still dazed by jeebs' regrown head, glances down at all the
weapons.
edwards
uh, this. this is what i saw.
kay looks at jeebs, pissed off.
kay
you sold a carbonizer with implosion capacity
to an unlicensed cephlapoid.
jeebs
he looked all right to me.
kay
a carbonizer is an assassin's weapon, jeebs.
who was the target?
jeebs
i don't know.
kay raises the weapon again, threatening.
kay
jeebs!
jeebs
i don't know!
kay lowers his gun, gestures to the shelf full of weapons.
kay
this is all confiscated. all of it. i want
you on the next transport off this rock. or
i'll shoot you where it doesn't grow back.
jeebs nods, point taken. kay leaves.
edwards
yeah. i'll be by tomorrow for those rolexes.
shaken, edwards follows.
ext. pawn shop -- night
edwards staggers out of the shop, trying to get the day's events straight
in his head.
edwards
the eyelids, fine ... and the jumping thing
... and the gun ... okay, but the head?
kay
searching for a handle on the moment here?
a place to file all this.
edwards
see a head doesn't do that, it doesn't just
grow back.
(looking up)
what's going on?
kay
can't help you, kid. only comfort i can
offer is that tomorrow, you won't remember
a thing.
edwards
oh, no. this i'm gonna remember for a long,
long time.
kay pulls the neuralyzer from his pocket. he hesitates for the briefest of
moments -- as if this particular neuralyzation is different than all the
others.
then he puts on his sunglasses.
kay
ever see one of these?
cut to:
int. chinese restaurant - night
-- the flash dims on edwards and kay, sitting at a table in a chinese
restaurant.
kay
(finishing a joke)
-- and the wife says yeah, harry, i know,
but this one's eating my popcorn!
he busts out laughing. edwards, across from him, is completely
disoriented. he looks down. there's a half-eaten order of broccoli beef
and several empty bottles of beer on the table in front of him.
edwards
huh?
kay checks his watch.
kay
whoops. gotta run. thanks for the egg rolls.
edwards
where am i?
kay
see what i mean about tequila? you're a
bright young man, james. just lay off the
sauce. i'll see you tomorrow, nine a.m.
sharp.
he turns and walks out. edwards checks his watch. a waitress appears.
waitress
another beer?
edwards
coffee. please.
she walks off. edwards looks at the table. there is a business card lying
next to his plate, on which kay has handwritten 'james d. edwards,
saturday, 9 a.m., 504 battery drive.'
edwards looks at it, puzzled. he turns the card over and looks at the
other side. there's not much there, no name, no phone or fax number, no
e-mail address. just three little letters, dead in the middle of the card:
mib
cut to:
ext. farmhouse - night
a lonely farmhouse stands amid the fields of upstate new york farm
country. several lights are on and through a window we can see the
silhouette of a man sitting at the kitchen table, the silhouette of a
woman hovering over him, bringing things to him.
the man (edgar) waves his arms, ranting.
edgar (o.s.)
i go out, i work my butt off to make a
living, all i want is to come home to a
nice clean house with a nice fat steak on
the table, but instead i get this -- this
-- i don't even know what you call this!
in the sky above, it's one of those brilliant star fields. but something
strange is happening with one of those stars -- it's getting bigger.
edgar (o.s.)
i'll tell you what it looks like, it looks
like poison. don't you take that away, i'm
eating that, damn it! it is poison, isn't
it?!
no, that star isn't getting bigger, it's moving. toward us. fast. it goes
from a pinpoint to a dime, to a nickel, to a quarter, and works its way
into fruit metaphors.
edgar (o.s.)
i swear to god, i would not be surprised if
it was, the way you skulk around here like
a dog been hit too much -- or ain't been
hit enough, i can't make up my mind.
okay, we're way past watermelon now, that thing is huge, and it's starting
to glow hot red as it enters the earth's atmosphere, headed straight
toward us, coming here, to beatrice and edgar's place.
the blazing fireball barrels through the sky, snaps off a couple trees --
edgar (o.s.)
you're useless, beatrice! the only thing
that pulls its weight around here is my
goddamn truck!
-- and slams right through a pickup truck parked in the driveway. a
concussive blast follows, then a geyser of smoke and flame erupts.
edgar (o.s.)
stay here!
the silhouette of edgar leaps to its feet, races to the door, and throws
it open. edgar is everything his voice led us to expect -- a nasty,
bug-eyed redneck carrying a twelve-gauge shotgun. his mouth agape, he
walks across the yard and stares at the hulking shell that was his truck.
the skeleton of the truck is still there, but there's a huge, smoldering
hole in it, a hole that goes at least ten feet down into the ground.
edgar
figures.
he walks to the truck and touches the door handle. hot. using his shirt
tail, he opens the door and peers down into the hole.
in the hole, he sees a smooth curve of metal and a few blinking lights.
embedded into the ground is, indeed, a spaceship, maybe eight feet across.
beatrice calls from behind him, standing in the doorway fearfully.
beatrice
what is it, edgar?!
edgar
(turns to her)
get your big butt back in that house!
beatrice does as she's told, closing the door behind her. edgar turns back
to the smoldering rock, raising his shotgun in defense. an otherworldly
voice comes from deep in the hole.
voice (o.s.)
place projectile weapon on ground.
edgar staggers back a step, terrified. but then he regains himself, raises
the weapon, and steps forward, pointing it menacingly down into the hole.
edgar
you can have my gun when you pry it from my
cold, dead fingers!
there is a pause while the voice thinks about this offer. finally, it
responds, in a voice and cadence remarkably similar to edgar's.
voice (o.s.)
your proposal is acceptable.
a long, hairy pincer flashes out of the hole, grabs edgar by the head, and
pulls him down into the hole.
from deep in the hole, we hear a terrible ripping sound, like a bedsheet
being torn in half. there are some disgusting gushy sounds, then a moment
later, something flies out of the hole and flops onto the ground next to
the truck.
it's edgar. well, sort of. his body parts still hang together -- face,
arms, legs, even clothes -- but everything inside has been removed and now
he just lies there, flat and empty, like a tuxedo on the floor after the
prom.
the shotgun flies out and lands beside him.
cut to:
int. farmhouse - kitchen - night
beatrice sits at the kitchen table, terrified, still wiping away tears
from edgar's diatribe. the door opens and edgar comes back into the
kitchen, seemingly fleshed out again, leaving the door hanging open behind
him. he carries the shotgun.
she looks up at him, anxious. but his face is a blank.
beatrice
what on earth was it?!
he looks at her strangely. when he speaks, his voice is different than
before. more refined.
edgar
sugar.
pause. she looks out the window, at the smoking truck.
beatrice
i've never seen sugar do that.
edgar
give me sugar.
puzzled, beatrice gets up, goes to the cabinet, and grabs a bag of sugar.
she holds it out to him.
edgar (cont'd)
in water.
frightened, she takes a glass of water from the table. she dumps some of
the sugar into it.
edgar (cont'd)
more.
she puts more, till the glass is brimming. she stirs it quickly with a
knife and hands it to him, her hand trembling.
edgar takes it and downs it in a single gulp. beatrice stares at edgar, no
idea what to think. she notices something odd about the skin on his neck.
beatrice
edgar, your skin! it's -- it's -- just
hanging off your bones!
edgar drops the glass and looks in a window, to catch his reflection. he
reaches up --
-- and twists his whole face, as if adjusting a ski mask, then tucks the
skin of his neck back into his shirt collar. he looks at her.
edgar
that better?
beatrice faints.
ext. farmhouse - night
stillness. silence. a loud scraping sound comes from the pit left by the
spaceship.
the nose of the ship itself rises up out of the pit, wavers, keeps moving,
and finally crunches to the ground outside the pit.
edgar climbs out of the pit, breathing heavily. he dusts himself off and
continues pushing the ship, along the ground, off into the darkness.
cut to:
ext. mib building - day
the next morning. edwards, holding the small mib business card in his
hand, compares the address written down by kay to the address on the
utterly nondescript building in front of him. it's seven stories high,
gray, windowless, perfectly square, squatting on a bridge over a road like
a fat guy on the john.
'504 battery drive.'
int. mib building - tunnel vent room - day
edwards steps through a heavily barred metal door and into long, bizarre
room. one wall is entirely dominated by the enormous blades of a tunnel
vent air intake. there is an elevator at the far end of the room and an
old security guard, the rent-a-cop kind, reading a comic book on a folding
metal chair halfway across.
edwards walks across the room, his footsteps echoing. the guard looks up.
guard
help you?
edwards
maybe, i'm not sure, see, i got this card --
guard
elevator. push the 'call' button.
and he goes back to his comic book. edwards, maybe out of nothing more
than curiosity at this point, walks across the room, toward the elevator.
as he draws close, the elevator doors whoosh open, expecting him.
int. mib building - entrance elevator - day
edwards steps inside and turns around. the doors close. he pushes the
'call' button and waits, but the elevator doesn't move. instead, doors on
the other side of the elevator slide open silently behind him. edwards
waits, unaware.
from behind him, somebody clears their throat. edwards turns around, and
finds himself standing in --
int. mib building - interview room - day
this back room is every bit as mysterious and unfamiliar as the entryway.
standing at the front of the room is zed, a wire-haired career g-man, an
old school bureaucrat, wearing the exact same kind of suit kay had on last
night. six other hot recruits sit in egg-shaped chairs, staring at
edwards.
one chair is empty.
zed
you're late. sit down.
edwards takes the remaining chair. the elevator doors slide shut. zed
continues addressing the recruits.
zed (cont'd)
my name is zed. you're all here because
you're the best of the best. marines, navy
seals, army rangers...nypd.
they all turn and regard edwards a little smugly. he gives it back.
zed (cont'd)
and we're looking for one of you. just one.
what will follow is a series of simple
tests designed to quantify motor skills,
hand-eye coordination, concentration,
stamina -- i see we have a question.
edwards's hand is, indeed, up.
edwards
why, uh -- i'm sorry, it's just no one
really asked this, but -- why, exactly, are
we doing this?
silence. then one of the young recruits eagerly raises his hand. zed calls
on him.
zed
son?
ambitious recruit
(loud and formal)
jake jensen, west point, graduate with
honors. we're here because you're looking
for the best of the best of the best, sir!
edwards tries to stifle a laugh, but can't.
zed
what's so funny, edwards?
edwards
i -- i don't know, sir. this guy. 'best of
the best of the best of the best of the --'
(realizing nobody is with
him on this)
it just struck me as --
(totally serious)
humorous. sir.
short pause. then zed continues.
zed
okay. let's get going.
int. mib building - interview room - later - day
the recruits scribble away at the written test. it's a thick document --
reasoning skills, general knowledge, diagrams. the recruits seem to be
really powering through it, filling in answer after answer.
but no desks have been provided for them, and they're all still in their
chairs, writing uncomfortably on their thighs or knees.
edwards is really struggling. he writes two words on one answer, then
decides to erase it. the lack of a writing surface is driving him crazy;
his pencil even tears through the page.
he looks up. in the middle of the tile floor, there is an unused table.
edwards gets up, goes to it, grabs hold --
-- and drags it, screeching deafeningly, back to his chair. everybody
looks up, wincing at the horrible sound that fills the room.
edwards sits back down, now writing on the table. that's better.
zed raises an eyebrow. he stares at edwards, then looks up, toward a
smoked glass window. behind the dark glass, a figure stands, staring,
unemotional.
cut to:
int. mib building -- shooting gallery -- day
seven weapons rest on a table in the middle of an otherwise empty,
triangular room. the seven recruits stand in front of the table.
there's an odd moment -- where everyone sort of looks around: at each
other, at the blank walls...
edwards
anyone, uh...any of you guys know what we're
doing here?
marine
(clipped, unquestioning)
looking for the best of the best of the best.
edwards
(can't help but smile)
well, yeah, i know, but...
and then .. suddenly --
the two far walls pull apart. the whole room pulsates and the air is
suddenly filled with a bewildering swirl of stroboscopic images, both
human and alien. everywhere is color, light and movement -- a holographic
mass of strange shapes and characters moving simultaneously.
the recruits lunge for the weapons, snapping them up and taking aim. six
shots are fired at once. and then, a second later, a seventh shot is
fired. everyone sort of looks at edwards, who puts his gun down last.
there's an awkward silence. then the door opens. light pours in, and zed
with it. even the highly competitive cadets can't help but feel some
sympathy as zed walks straight to edwards.
zed
the hell happened?
edwards
hesitated, sir.
zed looks into the gallery. most obvious in the frozen tableau of
creatures is a lunging, snarling beast, which has three bullet holes in
its chest. next to it is a massively deformed humanoid creature with a
large hook for a head, which also has three holes in it. in the back
corner of the gallery, there is a single bullet hole in a pretty
eight-year-old girl.
zed
may i ask why you felt little tiffany
deserved to die?
edwards
she was the only one who actually seemed
dangerous. at the time.
zed
and how did you come to that conclusion?
edwards
hook-head guy. you explain to me how he can
think with a hook for a head. answer; it's
not his head. his head is that butt-ugly
bean-bag thing over there. 'cause if you
look at the snarling beast-guy, he's not
snarling, he's sneezing -- he's got tissues
in his hand. no threat there, and anyhow,
the girl's books were way too advanced for
an eight-year-old's. and besides, from
where i'm looking, she was the only one who
appeared to have a motive. and i don't
appreciate your jumping down my throat about
it.
sideways glances from the other recruits. zed sighs.
edwards (cont'd)
or, uh -- do i owe her an apology?
cut to:
int. mib building - observation room/interview room - day
zed and kay stand behind smoked glass, staring at the recruits, who are
still in the shooting gallery, waiting for a decision.
zed
he's got a real problem with authority.
kay
so do i. the guy ran down a cephlapoid, zed.
on foot. tenacity. that i can use.
zed
i hope you know what you're doing.
zed turns and walks away. kay stares through the glass, at edwards, who
stands alone on one side of the room, apart from the rest of the group.
zed reappears on the other side of the glass, coming through a door and
into the shooting gallery. as he talks, kay turns and walks off.
zed (cont'd)
congratulations, you're everything we've
come to expect from years of government
training. now, if you'll just follow me, we
have one more test to administer, an eye
exam.
int. mib building - hallway - day
the recruits follow zed out of the shooting gallery and into a long
hallway. zed motions them off to the left. edwards is the last one out of
the room, but he stops as he steps into the hallway.
kay is outside the door, waiting for him. edwards recognizes him from last
night.
edwards
you! hey, what's goin' on?
the other recruits continue down the hall with zed. kay doesn't answer,
just gestures to edwards to follow him down the hall, which he does.
kay
back in the mid-fifties, the government
started a little underfunded agency with
the simple and laughable purpose of making
contact with a race not of this planet.
as they pass an alcove, edwards notices the six other recruits, who have
been herded into a corner. zed, addressing them, pulls a neuralyzer from
his pocket.
zed
now, if you'll look directly at the end of
this device.
he holds a neuralyzer up in front of them, and the recruits stare
obediently at it as zed slips on a pair of black sunglasses.
edwards stares, fascinated, but kay's hand reaches in and yanks him away,
just as zed's neuralyzer flashes white.
int. mib building - hallway - day
as kay leads edwards down an impossibly long corridor, he hands him a file
folder stuffed thick with eight by ten photographs.
he hands jay the first picture, a shot of eight or nine men in plain black
suits standing around a fifties-style office with metal desks and
fluorescent lights. dee and zed are there, much younger.
kay
everybody thought the agency was a joke.
except the aliens. they made contact on
march 2nd, 1961, outside new york city.
another photograph, a grainy black and white image of two ships hovering
in the night sky -- classic flying saucer shapes.
kay (cont'd)
there were nine of us that night. seven
agents. an amateur astronomer. and one poor
kid who got lost on the wrong back road.
yet another photograph, this one showing a young kay, in a shirt and tie,
holding a bouquet of flowers, staring at the open door of the landed
flying saucer. alien shapes are visible within.
edwards
you brought the aliens flowers?
kay steers edwards to the right, down another corridor, just as long as
the first.
kay
they were intergalactic refugees with a
simple request. let us use the earth as an
apolitical zone for people without a
planet. ever see 'casablanca?' same thing,
no nazis. we agreed. so we masked all
evidence of their landing.
another picture, this one of the 1964 world's fair grounds, still under
construction. giant models of rockets mark the fair's theme of space
travel; most prominent in the construction are two tall towers, with the
flying saucers now mounted at the top of each.
edwards
the 1964 world's fair was a coverup?
kay
why else would we hold it in queens?
(another hallway)
now left. more nonhumans arrive every year.
they live among us, in secret.
edwards
i see. not to change the subject, but when
was your last cat-scan?
kay
every six months; it's company policy.
edwards
well, thanks for the very amusing morning,
but i'm hopin' you'll show me where i came
in? 'cause this is where i go out.
they have stopped next to an unmarked door. kay throws it open and steps
inside.
kay
yeah, sure, hang on, i wanna grab a coffee
while we're right here.
as kay walks into the kitchenette, edwards' jaw drops, his eyes widen, and
he stares in wonderment --
-- at three worm-like aliens standing around a water cooler. tall,
impossibly thin, most certainly not from new york, the aliens hold an
animated conversation in a language that seems like a combination of
esperanto and microphone feedback.
kay (cont'd)
(to the aliens)
don't tell me we've only got that powdered
shit for cream again?
one of the worm aliens answers him in their native tongue and points to
the counter.
kay (cont'd)
oh.
he finds the cream sitting out on the counter where the alien indicated,
dumps some in his coffee, and comes back outside, closing the door behind
him. he reaches up and gently pushes edwards' jaw up, closing his mouth.
kay (cont'd)
for future reference, this is a better look
for you.
cut to:
ext. battery park - day
edwards, thrown for a major loop, sits like a zombie alongside kay on a
bench in battery park. kay drinks his coffee while they talk.
kay
any given time, around fifteen hundred
landed aliens are on the planet, the
majority right here in manhattan. most
aliens are decent enough, just trying to
make a living.
edwards
cab drivers?
kay
not as many as you'd think. humans, for the
most part, don't have a clue. don't want
one, either. they're happy. they think
they've got a pretty good bead on things.
edwards
why the big secret? people are smart, they
can handle it.
kay
a person is smart. people are dumb.
everything they've ever 'known' has been
proven to be wrong. a thousand years ago
everybody knew as a fact, that the earth
was the center of the universe. five
hundred years ago, they knew it was flat.
fifteen minutes ago, you knew we humans
were alone on it. imagine what you'll know
tomorrow.
edwards
so what's the catch?
kay
what you'll gain in perspective, you'll
lose in ways you're too young to comprehend.
you give up everything. sever every human
contact. no one will know you exist. ever.
edwards
nobody?
kay
you're not even allowed a favorite shirt.
there. that's the speech i never heard.
that's the choice i never got.
edwards
hold up. you track me down, put me through
those stupid-ass tests, now you're trying
to talk me out of it. i don't get it.
kay
you got 'til sun-up.
edwards
is it worth it?
kay
you find out, you let me know.
dissolve to:
ext. battery park - dusk
almost nighttime now, and the park is empty. edwards is still on the
bench. and still thinking. above him, the stars are coming out.
slowly, he looks up, into the vastness of the heavens.
dissolve to:
int. garage - day
the next morning. a door opens on a garage and an orkin man steps inside,
carrying a tank of toxic gas. the morning light spills on an abundance of
spiders, crawling everywhere -- big ones, small ones, hundreds of them
have moved in and taken over this dusty place.
the orkin man sighs and sets down his tank.
orkin man
well, well, well. movin' right in, are we?
think we own the place?
he unfurls a hose from the side of the tank.
orkin man (cont'd)
got a little eviction notice for you, boys.
he raises a mask to his face and unscrews the handle on the top of the
tank. lethal gas starts to hiss from the end of the hose.
voice (o.s.)
just what exactly do you think you're doing?
the orkin man turns around. edgar stands in the doorway to the garage,
staring at him disdainfully.
orkin man
(shrugs)
takin' care of your pest problem.
edgar
'pest' problem? 'pest?'
orkin man
yeah. you got a hell of an infestation.
edgar advances on him, slowly.
edgar
you know, i have noticed an infestation
here. everywhere i look, in fact. nothing
but undeveloped, unevolved, barely conscious
pond scum. so convinced of their own
superiority as they scurry about their
short, pointless lives.
orkin man
well -- yeah. don't you want to get rid of
'em?
edgar
in the worst way.
edgar lashes out quickly, jerking the mask off the orkin man's face with
one hand --
-- and shoving the gas hose down his throat with the other.
the orkin man's car keys drop to the garage floor, and edgar picks them
up.
ext. garage - day
a six-by-ten sheet of plywood thuds to the driveway outside the garage.
edgar raises one end of it so it's hanging off the back end of the orkin
man's van -- now it's a ramp.
he walks off and we hear that familiar scraping sound again. edgar,
grunting with the effort, slowly pushes his spaceship up the ramp and into
the back of the orkin truck.
cut to:
int. mib building - tunnel vent room - day
edwards stands in the middle of the tunnel vent room, the same one he
first came into yesterday. the elevator doors open and kay, obviously
summoned by the old security guard, stands waiting for him.
edwards
one thing you gotta know right now.
edwards walks briskly forward and gets in the elevator with kay.
int. mib building - elevator - day
inside the elevator, the doors whoosh shut, kay turns a key in a certain
floor number, and the descent begins. edwards continues.
edwards
all right. i'm in because there's some
next-level shit going on around here, and
i'm with that. before you beam me up, there
are a couple of things we need to get
straight. you chose me 'cause you recognize
the skills. so as of now you can cease with
all of that calling me 'son' or 'kid' or
'sport.' cool?
kay
cool, slick. now about those skills of yours,
the elevator doors --
int. mib building - headquarters - day
-- slide open on men in black headquarters.
kay
as of this moment, they don't mean much.
it's unlike anything we've ever seen -- huge, multileveled, of sixties
design, polished steel and glass. the workplaces are sleek and
uncluttered, manned by both humans and aliens. most of the aliens stay in
the background, like the upside-down guy who walks on the ceiling,
shuffling papers.
kay and edwards step off the elevator and onto a platform that looks out
over the whole place.
kay leads him down into the complex. first, they walk past a sort of
passport control center, where a human bureaucrat at a desk is checking
the documents of a line of aliens who've just arrived. there are a dozen
bizarre life forms in that line, chatting in half a dozen different alien
tongues.
edwards slows as they pass, listening to the passport control officer as
he addresses an arquillian, a large, humanoid visitor.
passport officer
purpose of trip?
arquillian
diplomatic mission.
passport officer
duration of stay?
arquillian
lunch.
passport officer
carrying any fruits or vegetables?
edwards just stares, fascinated, but kay grabs him by the arm and hurries
him along.
kay
let's go. he's a little...grouchy.
kay moves him into the central hall.
kay
a couple of hours wait after a 17-light-year
flight would get on anybody's nerves.
edwards
what branch of the government do we report
to?
kay
none. they started asking too many questions.
edwards
so who pays for all this?
kay
oh, we hold a few patents on gadgets we
confiscated from our out-of-state visitors.
velcro. microwave ovens. liposuction.
at a storage cage, kay turns a key in the lock of a caged-in area and
throws the door open. inside, there are piles of sophisticated-looking
devices stacked on shelves and tabletops.
kay
(picking something up)
here. a new recording device to replace
cd's. so now i gotta buy the white album
again?
(something else)
this is amusing. universal translator.
he holds up a cylindrical metal tube and a small wire clip that looks like
a lapel microphone.
kay (cont'd)
we're not supposed to have it. i'll tell
you why. human thought is so primitive
it's considered an infectious disease.
makes you proud, doesn't it?
edwards picks up a small yellow ball from one of the shelves.
edwards
what's this?
kay (cont'd)
don't touch that!
the ball zings out of edwards' hands -- it flies out into the main complex
-- hits the ceiling and ricochets around the room, faster than the eye can
follow --
various shots of humans and aliens ducking, dodging, and jumping out of
its way.
on kay as he calmly, a little wearily, slips an odd-looking metal glove
over his right hand...
he raises his hand and the yellow ball zings into it -- kay catches the
ball, calmly.
kay (cont'd)
caused the '77 new york blackout. practical
joke by the great attractor. he thought it
was funny as hell.
they leave the room.
edwards
sorry!
on the main floor, they walk briskly across the room, reaching a giant
screen on the far wall.
kay
observation, the heart of our little
endeavor.
the screen displays a map of the world on which thousands of tiny lights
blink in all parts of the globe, log lines of data flashing next to them.
kay (cont'd)
this map shows the location of every
registered alien on earth at any given
time. some of them we keep under constant
surveillance.
he hits a button on the console and the map is replaced by hundreds of
boxes, each with smaller video images.
kay (cont'd)
everyone on these screens is an alien. in
public -- normal. in private -- you'll get
the idea.
on the screens, we see live images of aliens. aliens who look alien are in
spots where they can't be seen. aliens who look human are functioning
right out in public -- including sam donaldson. michael jackson. and tony
robbins.
kay (cont'd)
meet the twins.
kay gestures to two small, bony creatures with eight arms each and a
single eye growing out of a central stalk in their heads. they turn around
and wave two or three arms each.
edwards
i gotta be honest about something.
kay
it makes no sense?
edwards
it makes perfect sense. when i was a third
grader in philadelphia, they told me i was
crazy 'cause i swore that our teacher was
from, like, venus or something.
kay
mrs. edelson.
edwards, stunned, looks at kay as 4-eyes boots her onto the screen: mean
face, cat glasses. bony fingers. extremely well-hidden tail.
kay
jupiter, actually. well, one of the moons.
with their remaining arms, they punch button after button on the enormous
console. zed, who was standing up close to the screen, walks over to
edwards, sizing him up.
zed
what's your jacket size, edwards?
edwards
uh -- forty regular.
zed
then let's put it on.
edwards
put what on?
zed
the last suit you'll ever wear.
cut to:
int. mib building - locker room - day
like the rest of the place, the mib locker room is all white. white walls,
white floor, white ceiling, white lockers. zed's voice comes over:
zed (o.s.)
from now on, you'll dress only in attire
specially sanctioned by mib special
services.
edwards reaches out and opens a white locker, revealing a black suit hung
from a hanger in the middle. above it, on the shelf, a black hat and a
pair of black sunglasses. on the bottom, a pair of shiny black shoes.
int. mib building - headquarters - day
kay is at a computer terminal. on screen are edwards's birth certificate,
driver's license, social security card, library card, everything. zed's
voice continues:
zed (o.s.)
you'll conform to the identity we give you,
eat where we tell you, live where we tell
you, get approval for any expenditure over
a hundred dollars.
int. mib building laser booth - day
edwards stands in a cramped white booth.
he holds both his hands on a ten-fingered keypad, pressing down hard. the
pad glows red, a searing sound comes from his hands, and he grimaces as
more lasers instantly and (not at all) painlessly change his fingerprints.
zed (o.s.)
you will have no identifying marks of any
kind. you will not stand out in any way.
int. mib building - headquarters - day
one by one, kay deletes edwards's identity cards.
on the computer screen is edwards' full name -- james darrel edwards iii.
kay punches a couple keys, and the cursor begins to sweep from right to
left, starting to eliminate the rightmost letters of edwards's name.
zed (o.s.)
your entire image is carefully crafted to
leave no lasting memory whatsoever with
anyone you encounter.
int. mib building - locker room - day
pants come off the hanger. the white shirt is removed.
more letters are eliminated from his name. it reads 'james darrel ed...'
then 'james darr...'
zed (o.s.)
you're a rumor, recognizable only as deja
vu and dismissed just as quickly. you don't
exist; you were never even born.
the coat is removed. the hat comes off the shelf.
zed (o.s.)
anonymity is your name. silence your native
tongue.
'james...' 'jam...'
zed (o.s.)
you are no longer part of 'the system.'
we're above the system. over it. beyond it.
feet slip into black shoes. a belt is buckled. a tie pushed up.
zed (o.s.)
we're 'them.' we're 'they.'
on screen, all that's left is the letter 'j.'
as the coat is buttoned, we notice the sleeve. monogrammed on the cuff is,
simply, the letter 'j.'
zed (o.s.)
we are the men in black.
int. mib building - headquarters - day
looking slick and handsome in his extremely sharp suit, james d edwards
iii -- or, rather, jay -- steps into the doorway from the locker room. he
reaches into his pocket, takes out the sunglasses, and looks at kay.
jay
the difference between you and me?
he slips on the sunglasses.
jay (cont'd)
i make this look good.
cut to:
ext. new jersey - early morning
we are looking at a telephoto shot of manhattan in all its splendor.
we see the orkin van topping a hill, heading towards manhattan.
int. mib building - zed's office - day
zed's office is a circular, windowed room elevated above the main floor of
mib headquarters. jay and kay sit across the desk from zed. there are five
video monitors on a wall behind zed's desk, and on each monitor is another
man in black, in different parts of the world, the city name and a clock
ticking in a corner of the image.
while zed talks, he goes through paperwork on his desk.
zed
okay, let's see.
(to one of the monitors)
bee, we got the deposed sur-prefect of
sinalee touching down in the forest outside
portland tonight. i'm pulling you down from
anchorage to do a meet-and-greet.
bee, an agent on one of the monitors, nods.
bee
humanoid?
zed
you wish. bring a sponge.
(going through memos)
what else -- everybody, we gotta keep
rolling fish-goat out of the sewer system,
he's scaring the rats. and bobo the squat
wants to reveal himself on 'unsolved
mysteries.' bee, make sure he doesn't.
he turns a page, coming across a red memo.
zed (cont'd)
red-letter from last night -- we had an
un-authorized landing somewhere in upstate
new york farm country. keep your ears open
for this one, kay, we're not hosting a
galactic kegger down here.
next to him, his computer screen beeps importantly. zed looks over at it.
zed
well, well, well -- we got a skimmer.
kay
(to jay)
landed alien out of zone.
(to zed)
who is it?
zed
redgick. he's not cleared to leave manhattan
but he's way out of town right now, stuck in
traffic on the new jersey turnpike. why
don't you take jay? this is a good one for
him to warm up on.
ext. mib building - battery park - day
jay and kay come out the front of mib headquarters.
jay
yo, wussup with zed?
(imitating him)
'go get em, tiger. we're not hosting an
intergalactic kegger...'
kay
zed was saving the world before you were
born, son. show some respect.
an mib mechanic pulls up in kay's black ltd and hops out, leaving the door
open. jay sizes up the car.
jay
we got the use of unlimited technology from
the entire universe and we cruise around in
this?
kay glares at jay. he's getting annoyed.
int. mib ltd - day
they get in and slam the doors. kay starts the car and the engine hums
quietly.
kay
seat belt.
jay
you know, ya'll gotta learn how to talk to
people. you could be a little kinder and
gentler.
kay grits his teeth.
kay
buckle up, please.
jay
now did that hurt?
kay shifts the car into reverse. the awesome power of the car kicks in and
jay sails forward, thwacking into the dash. kay shifts into forward and
taps the gas, slamming jay back into his seat.
kay
makin' fun of my ride...
a lighted panel rotates into place between the two front seats. jay's
hand falls by accident on a flashing red button in the panel.
kay
jay. the button?
jay
yeah?
kay
never push the button, jay.
jay jerks his hand away.
cut to:
ext. highway - side of the road - day
the ltd is now stopped by the side of the road, dust swirling around it.
ahead of it, another car has pulled over. kay gets out, jay follows a
moment later, shaky-legged. kay walks up to the window of the car they've
stopped. the driver, a guy in his mid-thirties with a wife in her
mid-thirties, rolls the window down.
kay
license and registration, please.
the driver hands over some documents. kay flips through them.
kay (cont'd)
other license and registration, please.
the guy digs out two other cards and hands those over. jay peers over
kay's shoulder.
the photographs on the 'resident alien id'cards are of two
friendly-looking reptile types, husband and wife, smiling atthe camera,
their long, skinny tongues dangling in a friendly sort of way.
kay hands them back.
kay (cont'd)
your resident card has you restricted to
the five boroughs only. where do you think
you're going?
redgick
it's my wife! she's -- she's -- well, look!
kay leans down and looks in the window. mrs. redgick is in front, moaning
in pain, holding her swollen belly. kay straightens up, fast.
kay
oh go
