You know, this was suppose to be my weekend off

[chrom]

But nooooooo.

Instead, you got me out here dragging your heavy ass through the burning desert, with your dreadlocks sticking out of my parachute. And you gotta come down here with an attitude, acting all big and bad.

AND WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SMELL?!

I Coulda been at a Barbeque!!

But I'm not mad, it's all right. This is all right.

[Paul]

I assume he improvised that (or most of it) because I don't think a screenwriter could write anything that funny.

[Mr PONYMANIA Mr Jenzie]

*a wild jeff goldblum cycles by*

[chrom]

Jul 4, 2023 16:06:39 GMT -5 Paul said:

I assume he improvised that (or most of it) because I don't think a screenwriter could write anything that funny.

Him complaining about the smell was unscripted because there actually was brine shrimp decomposing nearby where they was filming.

[Mighty Attack Tribble]

Jul 4, 2023 16:06:39 GMT -5 Paul said:

I assume he improvised that (or most of it) because I don't think a screenwriter could write anything that funny.

And you are correct, sir.

EXT. DRY LAKE – DESERT – LATER

Dragging a heavy bundle wrapped in his parachute, Steve marches across the desert floor. The alien ARM/TENTACLE dangles out of the parachute.

Exhausted, Steve stops to wipe his brow. He hears something, turns around.

STEVE'S POV – THE TRAILER ARMADA

Several hundred trailers from the refugee camp are headed en masse towards him. Smiling, Steve signals them.

thescriptsavant.com/movies/Independence_Day.pdf

The entire rant was ad libbed on-set, and was kept in the movie.

[Spider2024]

Also, who the hell is Leonardo Leonardo?

[agent817]

I have the novelization of "Independence Day." I don't think there was any dialogue to this but I may have to check.

[Mighty Attack Tribble]

Jul 4, 2023 21:44:30 GMT -5 agent817 said:

I have the novelization of "Independence Day." I don't think there was any dialogue to this but I may have to check.

Just looked it up:

Steve lowered his shoulder and strained against the weight of the straps. He'd wrapped the unconscious alien in his ejection seat parachute and was towing him across the scorching sand, muttering the whole way.

"Ya know, this is supposed to be my weekend off. But nooooo! You had to come down here with an attitude, and now you got me out here pullin' your potato-chip munchin', slime-drippin' ass across the burning desert with your dreadlocks hanging out the back." The creature's long tentacle arms had worked their way free and were dragging limply behind. "Think you can just come down here, acting all big and bad, and mess with me and my guys?" He turned around like he was expecting an answer. His anger rising, he screamed, "I coulda been at a barbecue, you freak!" He staggered toward the orange nylon chute and delivered one vicious kick after another to the lump of comatose biomass wrapped inside until he had to stop for breath. Panting, he added, "but I'm not mad."

Drenched in sweat, Steve knew he was going to need water pretty soon. Leaving his package behind, he grunted up a short hill and surveyed the desert. Empty brown hills stretched away to infinity beneath powder blue sky. Heat lifting off the desert floor shimmered like silver ocean waves. Just before he trudged back down to gather his prisoner of war, a glinting light caught his eye. It came from the top of a hill several miles away. Soon
he realized what it was: traffic. There was a road less than a thousand yards in front of him. He dashed back for his cargo and began a furious charge toward the road. He arrived a few minutes later, sat down at the edge of the old two-lane highway, and watched in amazement as an armada of a hundred trailers, campers, vans, and trucks rolled steadily closer.

"Hey, mucous-head, our ride's here." Steve put a big fat grin on his face and stood in the center of the road, waving his arms. "Gonna have to run me over if you won't stop."

Fortunately, the mile-long caravan rolled to a gradual halt. Steve walked up to one of the lead vehicles, the one towing an old biwing airplane behind it.

"Captain Steven Hiller, United States Marine Corps."

The driver, a big curly headed guy with a sarcastic sense of humor, leaned out his window and asked, "Need a lift?"

[mcmahonfan85]

"Oh, boo-hoo. You think you got it bad, try switching jobs with me!"

[agent817]

Jul 4, 2023 22:01:35 GMT -5 Mighty Attack Tribble said:

Jul 4, 2023 21:44:30 GMT -5 agent817 said:

I have the novelization of "Independence Day." I don't think there was any dialogue to this but I may have to check.

Just looked it up:

Steve lowered his shoulder and strained against the weight of the straps. He'd wrapped the unconscious alien in his ejection seat parachute and was towing him across the scorching sand, muttering the whole way.

"Ya know, this is supposed to be my weekend off. But nooooo! You had to come down here with an attitude, and now you got me out here pullin' your potato-chip munchin', slime-drippin' ass across the burning desert with your dreadlocks hanging out the back." The creature's long tentacle arms had worked their way free and were dragging limply behind. "Think you can just come down here, acting all big and bad, and mess with me and my guys?" He turned around like he was expecting an answer. His anger rising, he screamed, "I coulda been at a barbecue, you freak!" He staggered toward the orange nylon chute and delivered one vicious kick after another to the lump of comatose biomass wrapped inside until he had to stop for breath. Panting, he added, "but I'm not mad."

Drenched in sweat, Steve knew he was going to need water pretty soon. Leaving his package behind, he grunted up a short hill and surveyed the desert. Empty brown hills stretched away to infinity beneath powder blue sky. Heat lifting off the desert floor shimmered like silver ocean waves. Just before he trudged back down to gather his prisoner of war, a glinting light caught his eye. It came from the top of a hill several miles away. Soon
he realized what it was: traffic. There was a road less than a thousand yards in front of him. He dashed back for his cargo and began a furious charge toward the road. He arrived a few minutes later, sat down at the edge of the old two-lane highway, and watched in amazement as an armada of a hundred trailers, campers, vans, and trucks rolled steadily closer.

"Hey, mucous-head, our ride's here." Steve put a big fat grin on his face and stood in the center of the road, waving his arms. "Gonna have to run me over if you won't stop."

Fortunately, the mile-long caravan rolled to a gradual halt. Steve walked up to one of the lead vehicles, the one towing an old biwing airplane behind it.

"Captain Steven Hiller, United States Marine Corps."

The driver, a big curly headed guy with a sarcastic sense of humor, leaned out his window and asked, "Need a lift?"

Oh, you're right. I had read some of it a couple of months ago. This part seems familiar now.