Master criminal

Act I Scene 1 (Tyrese's apt. is scattered with cereal boxes, half-completed instant sweepstakes contest forms, empty cigarette packs, and a week's worth of clothes; a remote control is hidden somewhere underneath. Tyrese lays prostrate on a sofa threadbare at every edge. The T.V. is on and Tyrese vacantly stares at it unable to change the channel due to lack of remote and ambition. The phone rings. Tyrese eyes it once, twice, and then proceeds to answer it thinking it may be a winning sweepstakes call and forgetting he never actually sent in any sweepstakes forms.)
Tyrese:Whodis?
EnRon:It be EnRon.
Tyrese:What da fuck you want?
EnRon:Let's party dude.
Tyrese:Fool, you know I ain't got no funk juice.
EnRon:Chill, fool. I know where I can get us some.
Ensuing scene...