The Boondocks

Huey: This is Woodcrest... an affluent, quiet, tree-lined suburb.

Here is where Robert Jebediah Freeman, war hero and civil-rights legend,

decided to spend his final days.

But things didn't quite work out as planned.

- Granddad: Boys! - Huey: We're right here, granddad.

Important family announcement.

We are leaving Woodcrest forever.

Our lives have been a complete disaster since we moved here.

- Riley: True that. True that. - Huey: Now, that's true, granddad.

Granddad: We were supposed to have safe, boring lives.

I was supposed to find some hot, financially desperate

or sexually frustrated mama and settle down.

But nothing worked out as planned.

It's just been one ridiculous, stupid, bizarre episode after another,

and it's all my fault for movin' us here.

I'm taking responsibility.

Well, I say it's about time!

I been sayin' this place sucks since we showed up.

Granddad: Well, I have learned my lesson.

We're leaving.

Huey: Wait a minute, granddad. What's goin' on?

Granddad: Whatever do you mean, grandson?

Huey: I mean, you never take responsibility or learn a lesson... Ever.

Granddad: Uh...

Huey: We're broke, aren't we, granddad?

Granddad: Ehhh...

Riley: Granddad broke? Psh. Huey, you crazy, boy.

Everybody know granddad got lots of paper.

Tell him, granddad.

Granddad: I'm sorry, boys.

Riley: Aw, no, granddad. You didn't!

Granddad:

Huey: Granddad, calm down. How bad is it?

- We have no money? - Granddad: Worse.

Riley: Worse? What's worse than no money?

- Huey: We're in debt. - Granddad: Mm-hmm.

Huey: How much?

Granddad: A couple... a couple...

Riley: Thousand?

- Granddad: Mnh-mnh. - Huey: Hundred thousand?

- Granddad: Million! -

I refinanced with that damn adjustable-rate mortgage!

The dancing lady in that pop-up ad looked so friendly!

How could I know it would shoot up to 21%?

Riley: Aw, granddad. Thanks for killin' our future.

Granddad: I'm sorry.

I'm so... So... So...

Riley: It's gonna be real embarrassing

being the only homeless kid at school, granddad.

Granddad:

Damn, damn, damn!

Granddad: God damn it, boy!

You really need all that damn orange juice?!

From now on, that's all the orange juice you get.

Riley: Come on, granddad.

I'ma still be thirsty after that.

Granddad: Then drink water.

Listen up. There gonna be some changes around here.

- There he is! - Mr. Freeman, look over here!

Ruckus: Mornin', nigga.

Huey: It's worth mentioning that Uncle Ruckus is runnin' for mayor.

Why? A couple of years ago...

A new face in the Republican campaign race...

from seemingly out of nowhere, a Mr. Uncle Ruckus.

Financed by billionaire banking tycoons and Mr. Burns knock-off Ed Wuncler

and his economy-crushing son, Eddie Jr.

This Mr. Ruckus is not... I repeat, not...

an African-American,

but, rather, a Caucasian man suffering from a rare skin condition called revitiligo.

Liberals are, of course,

ridiculing this man's disease, which, I can assure you,

is completely real... unlike rape.

Huey: Yes, that's right.

Uncle Ruckus ran for president and basically almost won.

His standout moment was during the first Republican primary debate.

Uncle Ruckus, give us your strongest critique of president Obama.

- One minute. - Ruckus: I don't need a minute.

He's a black sumbitch from the sweaty jungles of Kenya.

- I yield the rest of my time. -

He's got my vote.

Huey: Once national news, now public access,

Ruckus continues his service to the American people.

Ruckus: You see, fellow white Americans,

this is why I am runnin' for mayor.

Now, bein' back is bad...

ain't no question about that...

and being poor is bad,

but this nigga has the nerve to be both.

Pay your bills, deadbeat nigga.

Granddad: Ruckus, I don't have time for this.

What are you doin' here?

Ruckus: Question is, Robert, what are you doin' here...

Here in the white man's house that you cannot afford?

Oh, what, what, you thought you could pay your mortgage with food stamps, nigga?

Granddad:

Look, you fat, one-eyed bastard! I don't need this today!

Ruckus: This is the thanks I get?

I was on my way to tape Jimmy Kimmel,

and I thought I would stop by and see how y'all niggas was doin'.

Hey, how that black-president thing work out for you?

Granddad: Ruckus, enough!

How do you know about my house payments, anyway?

You come by to rub it in?

Ruckus: No, sir, I did not.

I came by to tell you I quit!

Now that I'm an official Woodcrest mayoral candidate,

I will no longer work for y'all niggas, Mexicans, or swarthy persians.

- Granddad: Fine. Beat it. - Mr. Ruckus, are you all right?

Ruckus: Get off me, Robert! Get your nigga hands off me!

Oh, what a surprise... the nigga is resorting to violence.

Granddad: It'll be okay. Ed Wuncler and I are old buddies now.

He'll find a way to make it work, right?

I mean, last week was the first payment I missed,

so I figure that I have about, uh...

Riley: I hope that's that show that builds houses for poor people.

Robert Freeman.

It's me... Ed Wuncler Jr.

Granddad: Oh. Huh?

Yeah, we never met, but my father talks about you so much, I feel like I know you.

Dad turned over the property management to me.

Riley: Whoa. You're Ed the third's dad?

Granddad: Well, uh... It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wuncler the second.

Call me Eddie. Can I come in?

Oh, my goodness. Look at this.

What a lovely home.

The couch is... Uh, beautiful, with the... The carpet.

Oh, I-I'm sorry. This is my assistant, Vanderbilt.

You do have a lovely home.

I used to have a lovely home.

Let's see what we have... mm-hmm? Hmm.

So, look. I don't want to waste your time.

You know why I'm here.

We're not exactly where I need to be with the house.

Granddad: Yeah, about that...

Look, I'm just here to get you the out.

Granddad:

Oh, you shoulda seen your face.

Robert, it's me. It's your nephew, Eddie.

I'd never kick you out of here.

Pocket change.

Don't need that.

Hey, you check for hollowed-out spaces, eh?

You remember those nuns was tryin' to hide the thorny crown in the wall?

Sisters right there.

Riley: Hey, man, why you stealin' our stuff?!

Granddad: Shut up. It's his stuff.

No, no, no, this is asset re-management here.

Granddad: Please, Mr. Eddie, help yourself.

It's your house. It's your living room.

It's your, uh...

Dead grandmother's ashes!

Okay, so, look. I added up your title insurance and your homeowner's policy,

and the new rate on your sub-prime,

non-prime, under-prime mortgage is $52,000.47.

You think you can get that to me in, let's say, um, a month?

Granddad: A month?! I can't come up with that kind of money in a month!

Well, not if you keep puttin' all that negative energy into the universe.

You got to think positive.

Say, "I will get Eddie's money in a month." Say it!

Watch. You'll feel better.

Granddad: I will get Eddie's money in a month.

- Agreed! - Granddad: Wait! No!

Got to run. It's all gonna be okay. I'll see you later.

Chop chop, Vanderbilt!

Nothing is going to be okay.

Listen to me. Fake your deaths. Do you hear me?

Fake... Your... Deaths.

One month later

Granddad: Huh?

Robert Freeman. My nigger.

Can I say that? Yes, I can.

Granddad: Mr. Wuncler. Uh...

Sorry to interrupt you on a Sunday morning at 7:00 A.M.

I was just... Wondering if you, um, had that money.

Granddad: Well, um... Mon... money... W-w-we, uh...

You got my money, right?

Please, please, ple-e-ease tell me you have my money, Robert, ple-ease!

Granddad: Well... You see... Eddie?!

Please!

Granddad: Yes, well, I'm workin' on it, but I don't have the money right now.

You don't have my money.

Granddad: Well, I don't have all of it.

How much you have?

Granddad: Riley! Bring the suitcase with the money!

You're with me, right? Seriously, where's my money?!

You don't have my money? I can't believe this!

God... Damn!

A'ight. Eddie. Think.

- Wait! I got it! - Granddad: What?

The house. We can make money off the house... together.

We rent out each of the rooms as a separate unit...

two bedrooms, guest room, living room and kitchen, attic...

how much is that, Vanderbilt?

More than you're getting now, sir.