Black Dynamite (2011–2015): Season 1, Episode 6 - The Shit That Killed the King or Weekend at Presley's - full transcript

♪ He's dynamite ♪

♪ So dynamite ♪

♪ Ooohhh, ooohhh ♪

♪ Ooohhh ♪

♪ Ahhhh ♪

♪ He's dynamite ♪

♪ Dy-no, dy-no ♪

♪ Ooohhh, ooohhh ♪

♪ Oooohhhh ♪

♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪

This week...



Ho!

Hyah!

Ho!

Hyah!

Huah!

Ow! Ugh!

Damn! Damn!
Damn!!

I can't even break a board

with that big, Black
blueberry's face on it!

And look at this!

Is it really that important

to have the whole Black
community on drugs?

Of course not.

I could give a damn
about the Black community



and its mama.

This is about Black Dynamite.

He thinks he's so Black
and dynamite.

Without the Black community,
there is no need

for a Black Dynamite.

Why don't you find another
Black that's not so dynamite

to have an unhealthy
obsession about?

Shut up!

Now, give me an evil plan

that will destroy
the Black community,

thus rendering that
brillo-headed Black Dynamite

obsolete once and for all!

Well, Congress did just pass
a new domestic aid package,

whose small print takes all
the money out of education,

planned parenthood,
and public housing

and puts it into
subsidizing illegal drugs

in the Black community.

Henry, you sick fuck.

This is why I love you.

With drugs so cheap, no blackie
alive will be able to resist,

and soon, everyone will be dead,

unproductive,
and hopelessly hooked.

Hmm.
Two wrongs don't make a right,

but when everything's too right,

something's got to be wrong.

What I'ma do? Huh? Huh?

What I'ma do?

Don't you shut that off
and give me the bait!

Freeze, Tasty Freeze!

Shit!

Aaaah!

Tasty Freeze, how many times
has Black Dynamite

talked to you about selling drugs
in his community?

I think it was twice,
Black Dynamite.

See, there was the first time
you said not to,

and then the second ti...

Well, Black Dynamite only talks
with his mouth twice.

The third time, he talks
with his hands.

No, no, no, no, no, wait...
Ow! Stop!

If you want
Black Dynamite's hand to stop,

you better tell him something good.
Can you dig it?

What I was trying to say, before your
hand so rudely interrupted me,

is I ain't selling drugs
to the community no more!

No, Black Dynamite, I swear to God!
I put it on all my hos!

I'm selling drugs
for the community.

I don't understand,

and Black Dynamite don't like
not understanding shit even more

than he don't like saying
shit three times with his mouth.

Get his ass, Black Dynamite!

These drug dealers are
messin' up the community!

Since when have you complained
about the drugs

in the community, Basehead?

Since nobody will sell me none!

I can't get no base from nobody
in this damn community!

And without base,
I'm just a head.

They fuckin' up my whole
identity, Black Dynamite!

I ain't got time
for this, Basehead.

Spare me your shuck,
and spare me your jive.

No, no. He's telling the truth,
Black Dynamite.

Now, will you shut
your fist up for a minute

and just let me show you, man?
Please?

Fine, let me back up my car

so you ain't pinned to the wall
no more.

I don't know how
it happened, Black Dynamite,

but the moment
you left the community,

it just got flooded with drugs.
I mean, good drugs.

Good, good, good drugs.

I mean, this shit have you
seeing unicorns and sasquatches,

but not the big sasquatches...

Like, the little, tiny sasquatches.
- Basehead!

Well, anyway, Black Dynamite,
these drugs were so cheap,

it was easy to turn a profit,
and Black people didn't

even wanna use them no more.
- Speak for yourself!

I'll take a high over a life
of wealth any day.

Black Dynamite, the word
spread so fast that soon,

every white-collar whitey
who wanted some white was

down here trying to score.

Come to find out, they buy more
drugs than the Black community.

Everybody in the community
became a drug dealer,

and I mean everybody...
Except Basehead, of course.

I got so desperate, I was 'bout
to move out of the Black community

just so I could come back in
and get some drugs.

But I ain't have no car,

'cause I already sold it
for some base

the second week
I became a base head!

Okay, then, tell me...
What's happening with all this

new found honky drug bread?

We cleaned up the streets,
Black Dynamite, with real soap.

We buildin' libraries,
and we openin' markets

that fulfill the Black man
in America's long struggle

to acquire fresh produce.

And it's all thanks to the white
community's drug addiction.

I'm trying to see
the downside of all this,

but all I keep coming up with
is a whole lot of ups.

Oh, damn! I'm gonna be late!

All the hustlers are using this
good drug money to sponsor

a Black fair in the community
this afternoon.

Why don't you come check it out,
Black Dynamite?

Basehead, we could use you
in the basehead throw.

A basehead throw?!
What kind of person

gonna take a basehead
and throw him at a wall

like he a damn dwarf
or somethin'?

Fuck you!

How much base you get
for a basehead throw?

Like, you get,
like, a pound of base?

'Cause I could be thrown
for a pound of base,

no problem at all.

♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪

This can't be true.

They should have killed each
other by now!

Oh, man.
This stuff is real, real, real good.

Where did you get that?

The Black community.
Where else?

Everyone gets their coke
from there now.

They've got really good prices.

You fucking idiot!

We made the drugs that cheap so
they can kill themselves,

not sell it back to us!

I'm sorry, Mr. President,

but you and this
Black Dynamite shit

has got me under a lot
of stress.

Damn it, Kiss.

If drugs can't wipe out the
Black community, what can?

Oh, no reason to go there, darlin'.

I'm just gonna walk right in.

Elvis Aaron Presley,
the king of rock 'n' roll?

What are you doing here?

Mr. President, I heard there was
a drug epidemic in white America,

and that thing made me madder

than a premenstrual mosquito
in a mannequin factory.

I said to myself, I said,
"Elvis, you gotta stop the ghetto

from selling their Black drugs
to the white American people."

So I hightailed out of Graceland

faster than a cat can
lick his own ass.

Send me into the Black
community, Tricky Dicky.

I want to serve my country.

Mr. President, you're not gonna
let Elvis do this, are you?

He'll get himself killed.

Exactly!

Elvis Aaron Presley,
I knight you

the undercover D.E.A. agent

of the secret "Operation
Ghetto Blaster."

I give you the complete authority

to stop the Black community

from poisoning the white
community with their drugs,

by any means necessary
or unnecessary.

Thank you.
Thank you very much.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

James done died,
Penny got burned by an iron,

and J.J. just got shot.

Whoo!
"Good Times" is hilarious!

Honey Bee!

Are you sure this perm is
supposed to be in here so long?

It feel like my hair
done burnt off.

Uh-oh.

"Uh-oh"? There ain't supposed
to be no "uh-oh"

when you doin' my 'do!

Oh! What the... Ain't no ho gonna
wanna be my bottom bitch

with my head looking like this!

What ho is gonna bottom-bitch

for a Fisher-Price pimp like you
in the first place, huh?

Oh!
First, you gonna take my hair,

now you gonna take
my pimp juice?

It may be small, but I got
a pimp hand, Honey Bee,

and you 'bout to get
bottom-bitch slapped!

Uh-huh.
You want some of Honey Bee?

Come on.
You want some of this?

Say something else.
Say something else!

I'm tappin' out.
I'm tappin' out!

- Black Dynamite! You're home!
- Hey, Black Dynamite!

Who the fuck are you?

It's not funny!
It's me... Cream Corn!

Honey Bee ruined my hair,

which ruined my game,
which ruined my pimpin',

which ruined my life,
Black Dynamite!

You ain't got no life,
you Kojak, Black Mr. Clean,

bowling-ball-head, half-a-pimp-lookin'
motherfucker.

Get out my face!

All right, Honey Bee.
That's enough.

There's only so many bald jokes
a man can take

when his head is looking like
a damn tootsie roll pop.

Now, no more fighting.
- Fine. There won't be no fightin'.

But I'm thinkin' 'bout pressin'
full charges.

Now, y'all pull it together, and
let's go see what's going down

at the community drug-free,
drug-sponsored block fair.

I can't go nowhere with my hair
lookin' like this!

Everybody gonna laugh at me,
Black Dynamite!

I know looking like
a bald, Black Daddy Warbucks

done got you down and filled
with sorrow,

but like little Annie said,
"that sun'll come out tomorrow."

What's in it for me?
What's in it for me-e-e-e-e?!

Oh. Looks like we got some
serious customers.

Excuse me while I attend
to all their white

drug-consumption needs,
my dear chaps.

There's a new sheriff
in town, baby,

and his name is The King.

Now, I suggest you stop

selling your Black drugs
to the white community

and keep them in your ghettos,
where they belong,

or you and your brothers
are gonna be in a world of pain!

Hi, King.
The name is Tasty Freeze.

How 'bout if I give you a little
courtesy bag of smack

so you and your hillbilly
friends here

can go get real high in your own
community somewhere

and you can let us
get back to enjoying

our drug-free block fair?

Uh, what you say?

Hyah!

Aaah!

Now, get up against that there wall
and spread your legs.

We're tearin' this place apart.

Lift the nuts and check the ass
of every last man, woman, and child

until we confiscate all
the damn drugs.

The President wants us
to destroy everything

that was gotten
with ill gottens,

so start breakin', burnin',
and generally messin' up shit

real, real, real bad.

Damn, King!
Why your hands so cold?

Black Dynamite!

Elvis got Tasty by the balls...

Literally by the balls!

Elvis Presley,
who you think you are,

showing up in the Black community,
unannounced,

frisking Black ball sacs?

Looky here, now,
I'm on a mission

from the President of these here
white United States

to kick ass and bust heads
to the black meat

until I stop
your Negro community

from spreading your Black drugs
across America,

causing an epidemic.

Now, this ain't about race.

The Black community has had drugs
of epidemic proportions for years,

and ain't nobody ever sent
no Elvis Presley.

Well, if y'all had kept
getting high on your own supply,

this wouldn't be happening
right now.

Now, drop your drawers,
big fella,

'cause once I'm done
searching these two balls,

you and baldy-locks' nuts
are next.

Elvis, now, don't let Tricky Dicky
make you get your ass whupped.

Now, take off that badge and gun,
and I won't be cruel.

Keep it on, and it's back to my
regular ass-kicking schedule.

Bring it on!
Bring it on, baby!

If you got to pinch a loaf,
hold your turd cutter tight,

'cause if you move your log shooter,
you gonna miss the whole fight,

'cause Elvis is about to get
his ass whupped

by Black Dynamite!

I don't think your boy know
what he gettin' into.

Well, then, maybe Black Dynamite
better smack some sense into him.

All right, darkie Dynamite.

You're in for a world of
hurtin', baby. Whoo!

You had enough, Pelvis?
You like that, Pelvis?

Actually, that's one of
my nicknames.

Why you hitting yourself? Huh?

Why you hitting yourself?
Man, look at you.

You... can't... do...
this...

to... me!

I'm The King!

No, you were the King.

Now you're a fat,
distorted parody

of the cool and sexy
motherfucker you used to be.

You sold out the people that gave you
everything that made you you,

and you got into bed
with The Man.

Now, if that's not the least
rock-'n'-roll thing

a motherfucker could do,
I don't know what is.

Maybe that's why...
you... are...

hitting... yourself.

Okay. All right.
All right.

I don't... want to...
search...

no... more...
Black... ball...

sacs... Black Dynamite.

Oh, Black Dynamite and the Black
community in general, please!

Please forgive me,
for I have sinned.

Have mercy, if you will,
on my soulless body.

Black Dynamite ain't falling
for that old okie-doke.

No, this ain't no trick,
Black Dynamite.

Your thorough ass-whuppin' has
shown me the light and the dark.

I realize now that I've been
nothing but an ignorant

soul-stealing, fat-ass,
redneck drug addict.

May all of the Black ball sacs
forgive me, Black Dynamite!

Black-allelujah!

Now that Black Dynamite has
baptized you with your own fist,

you need to go spread the gospel
to Tricky Dicky

and the rest of them honkies
that put you up to this.

Now get the fuck on.
- Now, hold on one second.

And I would like to stay and help
mend what I have broken.

After all, I have
built my career

ripping off the Black man's
blues and his rhythms.

The least I can do is spend
the rest of my days giving back,

because the truth is...

♪ I'm all fucked up,
mm-hmm ♪

♪ Well, I'm a mess with no soul
What's wrong with me? ♪

♪ A pill-popping slob,
and I'm as fat as can be ♪

♪ I stole rock 'n' roll
from the Blacks, you see ♪

♪ I'm on drugs ♪

♪ I'm all fucked up,
mm-hmm ♪

♪ Hmm ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah ♪

♪ My moves and my songs,
yes, I copied 'em all ♪

♪ I'm hangin' all over
Chuck Berry's balls ♪

♪ I wouldn't be shit
if it wasn't for y'all ♪

♪ I'm on drugs ♪

♪ I'm all fucked up,
mm-hmm ♪

♪ Hmm ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah ♪

♪ It's clear to see that I was
out of my mind ♪

♪ Friskin' Black ball sacs
and Tasty's behind ♪

♪ And then my savior,
Black Dynamite ♪

♪ He whupped my ass,
and he showed me the light ♪

♪ He took my hand
and made me smack myself ♪

♪ I lost control of my bowels,
and the pills didn't help ♪

♪ I knew at that moment
I'd had enough ♪

♪ I'm on drugs ♪

♪ I'm all fucked up ♪

Step to the side, Roscoe, and let
The King show you how it's done.

- What you got there, King?
- This here, Roscoe,

is what I like to call
my peanut butter, bacon,

pancake batter, butter,
and banana sandwich.

I know you didn't get that shit
from no Black folks.

That is definitely not it.

I'd like to dedicate this
sandwich to the Black community.

May its delicious, creamy
goodness be an inspiration

to all the good works
we will achieve together.

Long live The King!
Long live The King!

Long live The King!

Long live The King!

Knock on wood!
Knock on wood!

Damn it! I knew I should have
knocked on wood!

Ooooh! They done killed
Elvis Presley.

Oh, I'm-a tell it!

And even if they didn't,
that's what I'ma say they did.

♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪

Elvis! Don't you die on me!
Don't you die on me!

You got everything to live for!

Yeah, like a new
little bald-headed bitch.

I'm tellin' you!
I'ma pimp-slap your bottom ass!

Come on, y'all, we got
bigger problems here

than bald-headed bitches
loving Elvis.

Having Elvis die
in the Black community

gives Nixon a reason
to drop the big one on us.

Oh-ho, no!
Not the big one!

The big one is comin'!
I tell you, not that!

Unh-unh!

What's the big one?
- The N-bomb.

The N-bomb?
You mean nuclear?

- Worse.
- Neutron?

Worser than that.
The real N-bomb...

The one you can't say on TV.

That really exists?
I thought that was some jive...

brothers was just kickin'
at the barbershop.

Oh, no, Cream Corn.
The N-bomb is real.

When I was working for the CIA,

I seen it with my own eyes.

And if they drop it on us...

of course Black Dynamite
will survive, but the rest of y'all

can Kiss your Black community
asses goodbye.

All we need to do is
make it look like

Elvis decided to quit
being a cop

and get his fat ass across
the Black community city lines

and back to Graceland.

Then, it will look like
he decided to die there.

Honey Bee, I was about to say

"you took the words
right out of my mouth,"

but I knew there was
nothing in there.

Now, that sounds like a Black
Dynamite plan if I ever said one.

Now, let's go.

Kissinger, has that fat,
pill-popping piece of shit

died at the hands of those
chocos yet?

No, Mr. President.
He's still alive, sir.

What the...? How the hell
did you get in here?

I'm a base head.
I can get in anywhere.

Watch this.
Poof!

Okay. I get it.
You're a magical Negro.

I have three wishes, do I?
The first wish...

Nah, man.

I'm a stereotypical base head
from the community,

and I'm here to tell you that
Elvis Presley is dead

and Black Dynamite
is trying to cover it up.

Are you sure about this?

Yup, 'cause he done killed Elvis.
Elvis is gone.

Kissinger, prepare the N-bomb.

If I can prove that the Black
community killed Elvis,

I can finally get rid of
Black Dynamite once and for all!

Come on, citizen Basehead.

Lead me to The King's corpse.

But you know you better put
some base in these hands,

or it's gonna be problems.

We made it outside
the Black community city limits.

We almost home-free.

Oh, my goodness!

Dead Elvis just let out
a thunder dumpling!

Oh, excuse me. I think that might
have been me, Cream Corn.

Say what?!
Damn, woman.

It's not my fault.
It was Elvis' peanut butter, bacon...

pancake batter, butter,
and banana sandwiches.

Yeah, I ate it.

Well, we need to find
a gas station or somethin',

Black Dynamite, 'cause that
wasn't no fart.

That was a shart.
She shitted in that fart.

We can't, Cream Corn.
We got to get dead Elvis...

back to Graceland
quick, fast, and in a hur...

Oh, d... oh God damn, Honey Bee!

Man, them rednecks look

like they ain't lynched
a Negro all day.

I wish I was pumpin' the gas

so you could go
over there and pay.

Aah! Look what you done did
to my damn head!

Well, screw you, too!
You was always jealous of my hair!

Com on over here.
Come on, puny pimp!

Come on, p-p-puny pimp!

You gon' get your ass
whupped aga...

What was that?

Now, the next one ain't goin'
in the air.

We know that's The King's car,
so where's The King?

There.
You rednecks have your king.

Now, let us go so we can get him
back to Graceland.

I don't know, Bubba.
The King looks a little strange to me.

You all tryin' to pull
a fast one on us

just 'cause we a bunch
of dumb-ass rednecks, huh?

If that's Elvis, prove it.

Hah!
Whoo! Work it out, baby!

Get it! Unh!

Uh-oh.

Bubba, I think these colored
fellas done killed our King.

- Get 'em!
- Oh, hell no!

Go, go, go, go, go!

They comin'! They comin'!

Get up off me!

I got a 8675309!

Some negroes are trying
to kidnap

the king of rock 'n' roll!

And I'm in hot pursuit!

Mr. Kissinger,
is there any way

we can drop this N-bomb
before 1:00?

They're showing the continuation
of "Good Times" today,

and I need to see if Penny falls
down the elevator shaft.

That show is hilarious.

No "Good Times" until we know
we got Elvis' body.

Whoa!

Whoo-hoo!

What was that?

You think you can outrun me,
you Black bastard?!

It's Tricky Dick!

All I wanted was a little bit
of drugs in the community, but no!

You brought this on yourself,
Black Dynamite!

Damn it!
Basehead dropped dime on us!

Hurry up! They're catching up on us!

Aaaaah!

Base!
How low could you go?

Damn it!

Aah!

You can't kill a Basehead!

Aaaaaaaah!

Honey Bee! If we don't
make it out of here,

I want you to know somethin'.

Even though you fucked up
my hair and ruined my life,

true friendship is more important

than any amount of hair...

No matter how silky the perm is.

And don't you worry...

I ain't gonna press no charges
on you, girl.

Oh, I know you wasn't, 'cause
I would have whupped your ass.

But I am sorry for making you
bald-headed

and causing you to look
more fucked up

than you already did.

Oh. Hug me.

Oh! Hey! I got an idea!

I know y'all negroes got
some afro sheen!

Give it here!

Honey Bee, this ain't
no time for cruel jokes!

Now, why the hell you sprayin'
my bald head with afro sheen?!

Ugh!

Aaaaah!

There ain't nothing that some
good Black folks can't do

if they put their minds
and their afro sheens together.

Cream Corn, your hair ain't
never did shit for us,

but your bald head
just saved our lives.

Can you dig it?

Come on, y'all! Hurry up!

Okay, now what do
we do with his fat ass?

There's only one place a king
can croak when he's alone,

and that's on his
motherfucking porcelain throne!

Surprise, darknesses!

Even though you got Elvis back
to Graceland,

I still got you for breaking in
and killing Elvis Presley.

Operation Ghetto Blaster
was a success!

Maybe not the way I envisioned
it, but whatever.

Kissinger! I got the body!

Start the countdown
for the N-bomb.

Well, I guess this is
as close as I'm gonna get

to going out
in a blaze of glory,

so if this is the way
Black Dynamite is meant to end,

squeeze the trigger,
motherfucker.

Honey Bee, now ain't
the time for you to be

opening up your ass again.

That ain't my ass
opening this time.

Well, Mr. President,
what an honor

having you here at Graceland.

Why are you and these strange
colored folk

holding guns on each other
in my master bedroom?

Shit.
Stop the countdown, Kissinger.

The fat fuck is alive.

My goodness.
I must have missed something.

Once in a while, I pass out
for a couple days

and shit wake myself.

One of these days, I'm gonna
shit wake myself to death.

Here... you want
a?

Long live your king, Tricky Dick.

Long live your king.

♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪

Damn! Damn! Damn!!

Poof!