The Mo Styles Show
(Howard and Mike walk in, dressed as thugs as Raise Up by Petey Pablo plays)
Howard: Yo, yo, yo whazzup cracka-ass crackas!
Mike: What, what, what? So, so, so like what?
Howard: Yo, dis be the Mo Styles Show. I be Mo Styles, and here wif me is Diddy Fresh, my cracka.
Mike: Much love, B.
Howard: Me an Diddy be runnin from the mother-fuckin po-po for 26 mother fucking hours now. I ainít kill that bitch! What bitch? I donít know no bitches! Bitch.
Mike: But they ainít gonna find us, yo. Canít nobody hold us down. When Iím rollin by, crackas canít see me.
Howard: Picture me rollin. Pigs be tryin to catch me, but I gets away... scribbada!
Mike: Man, Phat Burger still be open? Yo, Iím bouts to get by grizub on.
Howard: I donít know, dog. But yo money, the law ainít go find us here, yo. Those punk ass mother fuckers ainít go find us here at the Mo Styles Show on cable channel deuce-deuce.
Mike: Public access yo, what up.
Howard: This be the Mo Styles Show, where me and Diddy lay it down fo yíall fo bout 3 to 5 minutes.
Mike: Yo man, hold up, hold up. Dat bitch be pagin me again. (answers phone) Bitch, I done told you not to call me no mo. No bitch, Shaniqua ainít my baby. Dat be Darnellís kid. BEE-ATCH.
Howard: Man, dat bitch be trippin. She ainít know what itís like to be a cracka up here in da hood.
Mike: Shit, dog. I grew up in Beaverdale Iowa. B-Dale, you hear me. People with white picket fences, all out there mowin their lawns, walkin their dogs and shit. Fuckís up with that? Man, whatís society comin to? This shit be crazy. Itís all about opressin the white fuckin males, B.
Howard: Yeah, dog. Just the other day my momís bitch-ass accountant done told her to sell her mother-fuckin lake home, and the fuckin yacht. I be all like, bitch, I ainít about to sell my mother-fucking lake home.
Mike: Man, dat shitís fo real.
Howard: Aight. Dis be time fo the word of the mother-fuckin day.
Howard: Of the day.
Howard: Dayís word, be shiznit. Say it wif me... shiiiiz-nit.
Mike: Shiz-nit. What, what?
Howard: Lemme use it in a sentence. Man, dis endo be da shiznit.
Mike: Man, thatís what Iím talkin bout. Sheezy my neezy in da hizzo wif da mizzo on da izzo from da lizzle.
Howard: Yo, fo real. Believe dat!
Girl: Michael! Is your little friend Howard staying for dinner? Iím making fishsticks.
Mike: Uh, yeah mom. Weíll be right up. Just hold on a second, please?
Girl: OK snookums. I donít want my little boyís tummy to get all growly. Whoís my little boy?
Mike: Mom, youíre embarrassing me!
Howard: Sweet, dude. Fishsticks. That sounds really good, man.
Mike: Yeah man, my momís a nice lady. (pause, look confused) Man, we gots to head, yíall. Mother fuckin po-po be right on our heels. Sides, yo, I gots to smoke me a fuckin j, and drink some fo-dees.
Howard: Yeah, cracka. Dat be all fo today. We gots to eat ourselves some mother fucking fishsticks. Dat shit be phat, dog.
Mike: Them fishsticks be the shiznit. Specially wif my momís tarta sauce. Shiznit!
Howard: Word of the day, yo. Nice!
Mike: Thanks, bro. Much love.
Howard: We all brothers. Anyway, we gots to bounce outta dis side da hood. Yo, til next time, I be Mo Styles, dis be Diddy Fresh, and we be keepin it real. Peace out.
Mike: Bee-atch!<!****this ENDS the script proper****> "The Mo Styles Show" IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL AND MAY NOT BE DOWNLOADED, TRANSMITTED, PRINTED OR PERFORMED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR
"The Mo Styles Show" debuted February 22, 2002.