Hong Kong Weekend

November 22, 2010, 2:00pm PST

Location: Charlie Smith’s house, in Compton. Myron, Ben, and Randy are hanging out in the living room, watching “Five Deadly Venoms” on Betamax. Charlie, Myron, and Ben are drinking beers, while Randy sips Chinese tea.

Ben: How about lighting that spliff?

Myron: Don’t you want to wait for Mitch? He should be here soon.

Charlie’s sister Tisha, enters the room. Stands with one hand on her hip.

Tisha: Don’t stink up the place with that shit, Charlie.

Charlie: [Waving her off] We’ll go outside.

Tisha: And don’t leave beer bottles lying around, either.

Charlie: Did mom deputize you or something?

Randy: Your mother works hard. She doesn’t deserve to come home to a trashed house.

Tisha: Thank you. At least one person here has some class.

Ben: [Reaching out towards her] Come over here, baby…let’s have a cuddle.

Tisha: [Swatting away his hand] With you, stinking of beer? No thanks.

Ben: That’s harsh.

Tisha: You know I don’t like all this drinking and shit.

Charlie: “All this drinking and shit”? We’re just hanging out, enjoying a spliff and some beers, and you act like we’ve turned the place into a crack house.

Tisha: I just don’t like it, OK? Look at what this shit’s doing to our neighborhood…to our community.

Randy: She’s got a point. You know what the Minister has to say about booze and drugs.

Ben: Here we go.

Randy: I ain’t goin’ nowhere…just sayin’. What do you think, Myron?

Myron: [Seriously] I think you’re both right and wrong on this, D.

Randy: Go on.

Myron: In the abstract? Sure, “drugs and alcohol” have done a lot of damage to our community.

Randy: But?

Myron: It doesn’t follow that everyone who has a drink or smokes a joint is hurting himself or destroying his community.

Charlie: Word.

Myron: I enjoy our Hong-Kong weekends. And I enjoy a beer or two and a joint. I don’t think we’re hurting anyone. 

Randy: What about the example we set? We’re supposed to be the cream of the community.

Myron: That’s not fair. We got into New Ridgemont High. We do well in school. None of us has ever been arrested or even gotten so much as a parking ticket. We have to be the embodiments of Black virtue too? Don’t put that on my shoulders.

Randy: Peace, brother. I meant no disrespect.

Tisha: You’re right, Myron. I’m sorry. 

There is a knock at the door. 

Myron: That’s Mitch.

Charlie rises from the couch and crosses the room to the door. Opens it. Mitch Bennett enters.

Charlie: Mitchie! What is up?

Mitch: Sorry I’m late. My mom got lost. She’s never driven around this area before.

Myron: Is it cool?

Mitch: She was a little worried, but I reassured her.

Randy: Is she racist?

Mitch: Not at all! She and my dad are San Francisco hippies. 

Tisha: Be fair, this is a dangerous neighborhood, Randy.

Randy: Like we don’t know that? Unfortunately, we don’t have the option of living in the Valley or Beverly Hills.

Myron: Same point as before. You can’t put that on her shoulders. 

Mitch: They’re just a little overprotective.

Randy: Sorry.

Mitch: No, I get it. Sixty years after civil rights, and L.A. is still segregated. It’s bullshit.

Ben: You want a beer, Mitchie?

Mitch: Sure.

Ben cracks open a beer and hands it to Mitch.

Charlie: Let’s go out back.

The boys make their way outside to a small, grassy yard, surrounded by a privacy fence. In the middle is a Wing-Chun dummy. Charlie brings out a boombox and sets it on the ground near the house where there is an electrical outlet. Plugs it in and presses “play” on the cassette deck. Newcleus’ “Jam on It” is the first song.

Myron: Newcleus? That is some old school shit, C!

Charlie: It’s got groove, man. None of this falling-down-the-stairs, mumbling shit everyone’s doing’ now.

Randy: It’s alright. A little foolish though, all that “wiki wiki wiki” stuff.

Myron: [laughing] No NWA, no Randy.

Randy: That’s when it got real, man…when it started speaking from the streets…none of this “hip hop hibbie hibbie” nonsense.

Myron: Grandmaster Flash grew up in the Bronx. Built the first crossfader with a bunch of scrap from a junkyard. I’d say that’s “street” enough. 

Charlie: NWA weren’t the first to do that whole gangsta’ thing anyway. It was Schoolly D, in Philly.

Ben: Schoolly’s the man.

Charlie: I’ve got Saturday Night queued up.

Myron: You’ll like that one, Mitch. The lyrics are hilarious.

Mitch: I’m liking this one.

Ben: Spark that spliff!

Charlie pulls a thick joint from behind his ear and lights it. Takes a long drag and offers it to Mitch.

Mitch: I don’t know…I mean, I never…

Ben: Go on, son. It’s good for you.

Myron: You don’t have to smoke if you don’t want to, Mitch.

Mitch: I’ll try it…thanks. [Takes the joint and draws carefully off it. Holds his breath for several seconds and then exhales gently.]

Charlie: Boy’s messin’ with us…smokes like a pro.

Mitch: I do? [Takes another hit and passes the joint to Charlie]

Charlie: Shit, yeah! You’re like some funky, nerd aristocrat or something. [Imitates Mitch smoking]

All: Ha ha!

Myron: So, what do you think?

Mitch: It’s nice. Mellow. The music sounds really good.

Charlie: [Taking a drag off the joint and handing it to Ben] Nothin’s better for listening to choice beats than the Chronic.

Mitch: Aren’t you smoking, Randy?

Randy: I walk the path set down by Minister Farrakhan. I don’t smoke or drink.

Ben: [Gesturing with the joint] Truth. Boy doesn’t even swear.

Randy: Sound in mind and body and civil in tongue. [Walks over to the Wing-Chun dummy] You been practicing that stuff I taught you, Mitch?

Mitch: Every day. I use the post on my bunk bed.

Randy: [Tilts his head at the dummy] Show me.

Mitch: [Horrified] Oh, no, I couldn’t do that…not now. [Holds up the beer, in a helpless gesture] 

Ben: Pshaw! You ain’t barely drank shit. 

Mitch: I smoked pot too.

Ben: Chronic focuses you. You’ll be even better.

Charlie: Do it! 

Myron: Yeah, why not? Give it a shot.

Mitch: [Dubiously] Well…OK. [Puts down his beer and approaches the dummy]

Randy: Show me what you got; anything you want.

Mitch executes an inner block against the uppermost arm of the dummy and quickly throws down his other hand to block the lower arm that spins around, but a third arm, at ground level, sweeps his feet and knocks him down.

Randy: [Helping Mitch up] Gotta’ watch the feet, man.

Mitch: The bedpost doesn’t do that.

Randy: [Steps up to the dummy] You block the lowest arm, with an inside shin-kick. Like this. [Demonstrates with strong, fluid blocks and kicks]

Mitch: I gotta’ practice a lot more.

Randy: You need a dummy like this. Would your parents buy you one?

Mitch: Dunno’. They’re usually pretty supportive. They think I need exercise.

Randy: I’ll hook you up at the place I shop.

Mitch: Thanks! [Picks up his beer and takes a long drink]

At that moment, three neighborhood girls, Felicia, Sondra, and Kim stick their heads over the privacy fence.

All: Surprise visit boys!

Sondra: We’re here to help you with your math homework.

Charlie scrambles over to the fence and unlocks the gate. The three girls saunter past him, into the yard.

Mitch: [Sitting next to Ben, sharing the joint, and watching the girls] Oh, wow.

The girls are dressed in complimentary pastel stretch mini-skirts and tube tops and walk with a confident swagger, their large, gold, hoop earrings jingling beneath elaborate, oiled black and brown hair. They are laughing and snapping gum.

Ben: [whispering] What did I tell you about Hong Kong weekends, Mitchie? [Rubs a tear from his eye] Fine females!

Mitch: [Dazedly] Word.

Felicia: So, what are you boys doing this afternoon?

Charlie: Hong Kong weekend, Lish. If it’s Saturday, it’s Hong Kong weekend.

Felicia: [Putting her hand on her hip] Which means you boys are sittin’ around, watching kung fu movies, drinkin’, and getting high.

Charlie: If you put it that way…

Felicia: I do. There better be some left for us.

Charlie: [Takes the joint from Ben. Bows and hands it to Felicia] My lady…

Felicia laughs and tosses her hair. Takes a long drag and hands it to Kim.

Kim: [Pulls gently on the joint and narrows her eyes. Gestures towards Mitch] Who’s Richie Cunningham?

Myron: This is Mitch — Mitch Bennett — a friend from school. 

Mitch: Hey, Kim!

Kim: [Inspecting him] He looks like a nerd.

Myron: Mitch’s cool, Kim. He’s part of the posse.

Ben: [Slapping Mitch on the back] Truth!

Kim: [Purring] He’s cute. [Walks up to Mitch and holds his chin, tilting his head up] So, you like Compton girls, Mitch Bennett?

Mitch: As of today, they’re definitely my favorite.

Kim: [Laughs] Smart too. I like smart. [Reaches into a tiny purse hanging at her waist and removes a slip of paper and a pen.] Here’s my number. Call me. [Turns and walks back to Sondra and Felicia. The three girls exchange whispers, laughing, and then depart through the gate, taking the joint with them.]

Mitch: [To Ben] Did that just happen?

Ben: It did.

Charlie: [Leans over and clasps Mitch’s hand, doing his best Flavor Flav impersonation] Say, yeeah, boyyy!

Ben: Truth. Mitchie just became king of the hood.

Mitch: Word.