GREG: You are absolutely right Valdoff but
JOHN: Excuse me
GREG: Shh. You see Valdoff
JOHN: He's the
you're the alien?
VALDOFF: Who dis?
Valdoff I'd like you to meet
JOHN: You're not an alien!
VALDOFF: Fuck you. Who is dis?
GREG: This is John. He's a friend of mine.
JOHN: [Chuckling.] Greg, I hate to tell you this
VALDOFF: What's he doing here?
GREG: Really, he's okay
JOHN: What in the hell is going on here?
VALDOFF: What's it to ya Earthling?
JOHN: [A pause.] What?
JOHN: What did you say?
GREG: John please.
JOHN: You expect me to
You think I'm going to fall for this?
VALDOFF: Dis is why I tell you never to bring anyone Greg
GREG: John! I'm sorry Valdoff.
VALDOFF: Keep him quiet. I will inspect dis.
[VALDOFF proceeds to investigate the cigars: unwrapping, smelling, clipping the end
JOHN: [Laughing.] Boy. I tell ya. To actually think
You have really got something here man. I mean
JOHN: Have you got him fooled or what? I almost have to commend you there buddy. You got balls.
VALDOFF: Ramon Alones
Gigantes! It's good.
GREG: Thank you.
VALDOFF: All real good.
JOHN: You know, your act could use some work. I mean, can't you invest in some green antenna? Huh? Hell, an E.T. mask at least? Phone home. Phone home.
GREG: John, please. Don't upset Valdoff.
JOHN: Oh for Christ's sake.
VALDOFF: I am to have no more
no wooden matches.
GREG: Matches? Here you are Valdoff. (He hands Valdoff some matches.)
VALDOFF: Gracias senor.
JOHN: All right, Greg? Hello? Greg! Come back to Earth now. This is not Valdoff.
GREG: Yes it is John.
JOHN: Greg! Hey! Does this look like an alien to you? This is some schmuck Mexican in a leather jacket taking you for a motherfuckin' ride!
VALDOFF: Gracias for the jacket by the way.
GREG: My pleasure.
JOHN: That is the limit. Greg! This is a human. [JOHN grabs VALDOFF and shakes him.] A human being. A Homo sapien. A dude screwing with your mind!
VALDOFF: Pardon! If you touch me once more I will be forced to vaporize you.
JOHN: [A beat.] That's not even funny. It's sick. This is sick is what it is. If you're gonna do it for Christ's sake, don't insult my intelligence. If you're not going to put on a showinvest in some special effectsat least say something I haven't heard before!
VALDOFF: Greg. About these cigars.
GREG: Yes Valdoff?
VALDOFF: Malo. Dey are very bad.
GREG: They are?
VALDOFF: Dry. Very dry.
GREG: I'm so sorry I
VALDOFF: Pinche cigar. No sirve para nada. [To GREG:] Que basura. Dey are unsmokeable.
[VALDOFF throws down his cigar and snuffs it with his foot.]
GREG: Please accept my apologies Valdoff, like I said they haven't been in a humidor
VALDOFF: Losiento. Greg. I'm sorry. But you force me now to destroy the Earth.
GREG: No Valdoff please! [GREG drops to his knees.] Give me another chance, I swear it won't happen again!
VALDOFF: A deal is
GREG: No Valdoff, no!
JOHN: I have had just about enough! For God's sake Greg get out of the dirt. Nobody's destroying any Earth alright?! [A beat.] No, what am I saying? You're right ValdoffWe gave you some shitty cigars
Looks like to me you have every right to blow up the planet! "Shitty Cigars? Destroy the Earth." That's my motto. Please, by all means, warp speed!fly back to your mothership in the barrio, push that button, fire those photon torpedoes, destroy the Death Star, and may the force be with you! Do it, please! Because I have had just about ENOUGH!
VALDOFF: [A pause.] All right. [VALDOFF turns and begins to exit.]
JOHN: Stop. [JOHN has pulled out his gun. VALDOFF stops and turns around.]
GREG: Whoa. John I don't think
JOHN: It's okay. It's alright. We're gonna get to the bottom of this
Man these things are heavy. I never realized
GREG: The safety isn't on there John so
JOHN: I know it isn't.
GREG: Valdoff, I'm sorry this turned into such a
VALDOFF: A weapon?
VALDOFF: I assume that what you are holding is some type of
JOHN: [Giggling, a little hysterical
] Yea. You might call this
actually it's a Fig Newton. On Earth we refer to all our weapons as Fig Newtons.
VALDOFF: Hmm. How does one operate this Fig Newton.
JOHN: Knock it off. [A beat.] Goddamnit knock it off!
GREG: John no! Valdoff let's just forget tonight ever happened and I'll meet you right here tomorrow with some more Cubans, I swear
VALDOFF: [Stopping GREG.] Pardon! [A beat.] Johndo you reveal this Fig Newton in an attempt to stop me from destroying the Earth?
I don't know.
JOHN: You're not an alien. All right? You're not. I swear I'll use this. Stop screwing with my friend here and just admit it. Don't fuck with me! Admit it.
VALDOFF: May I hold your Fig Newton?
JOHN: No you can't
And stop calling it that! I was kidding you stupid ass alien! It's not a Fig Newton! It's a gun! A Fig Newton's a cookie.
VALDOFF: A cookie.
JOHN: A cookie! A cookie! A dessert
for God's sake I'm not going to give you the definition of a cookie. What kind of superior life form is this?!
[VALDOFF comes closer to JOHN, examining the gun.]
JOHN: What are you doing?
VALDOFF: I'm observing your cookie.
JOHN: It's a gun! A gun! Not a cookie! It's a
what kind of gun is this Greg?
[VALDOFF produces some spectacles out of his pocket that do not have any ear clasps; he must hold them up to his eyes with his hand to observe the gun.]
JOHN: What's the brand nameis it a Luger?
GREG: It's a revolver. 38 caliber.
JOHN: That's it! A 38 caliber revolv
[JOHN notices VALDOFF'S glasses.] What are those?
JOHN: Yea, what's that?
helps me see. A
JOHN: I know that. I figured
why do you hold them?
VALDOFF: Hold them.
VALDOFF: Hold them? I don't understand.
[Light change. DAD, DICK and SMITTY enter cheerfully.]
DAD: Well I'll be a son of a bitch!
SMITTY: This Martian's never seen an eyeglass frame!
DICK: There's your chance boy.
SMITTY: Give ‘em your pitch.
DICK: Unload those frames.
SMITTY: Sell this stupid alien!
JOHN: What? [To DAD:] You approve of this?
DAD: I must say in y 66 years of life never once did I see an alien.
GREG: Does he approve of what?
[BABE enters in negligee filing her nails. Grumbles from the SALESMEN.]
BABE: Loooser. Loooser!
JOHN: [To GREG:] Hold on
BABE: So whatever happened to John?
BABE: Well, last time I heard he was picked up in the Arizona desert wielding a gun playing X-Files with a couple of acid dropping freaks.
DICK: Do you mind?
SMITTY: We're trying to conduct a sale here.
JOHN: Now wait a minute Babe I think
BABE: You think what?
GREG: Babe? Hello! Earth to John! We're off the golf course now!
BABE: He don't have no twenty thousand dollars!
DAD: Money, schmoney!
DICK: We're trying to save the Earth here!!
SMITTY: An even trade: frames for the planet.
DAD: The greatest sale ever made!
GREG: John, Babe left you a long time ago
VALDOFF: I confuse.
GREG : I think you should give me the gun now John
JOHN: Wait! They have a point Babe, what if he is an alien?
GREG: John listen
BABE: Yea? What if he isn't? What if he isn't John?
GREG: It's all over now John, put the gun down
JOHN: [To BABE:] What do you care?! WHAT DO YOU CARE ABOUT IT?!
GREG: I don't care! Neither does she! Nobody cares! It's all up to you here! It's your call man! Now what the hell are you going to do?!
JOHN: [After a beat he puts his gun in his belt.] I'm going to save the Earth.
["Superman Theme" music is heard.]
DAD: Atta boy!
JOHN: [To GREG:] Back me up. I'm selling this piece of shit alien.
BABE: [Suddenly struck ill.] Johnthis is ridiculous--
JOHN: [To VALDOFF:] Welcome to Capitalism space freak.