Let me tell you what
"Like A Virgin" is about.
It's all about a girl
who digs a guy with a big dick.
The entire song
is a metaphor for big dicks.
No, it ain't.
It's about a girl
who's very vulnerable.
She's been fucked over a few times
and she meets a guy who's sensitive.
Whoa. Timeout.
Tell that bullshit to the tourists.
Toby? Who the fuck is Toby?
"Like A Virgin" is not about some
sensitive girl who meets a nice fella.
That's what "True Blue" is about.
No argument about that.
- Which one is "True Blue"?
- It was a big-ass hit for Madonna.
I don't even follow that top-of-the-pops
shit, and I've heard of "True Blue."
I didn't say I ain't heard of it.
All I asked is, how's it go?
Excuse me for not being
the world's biggest Madonna fan.
Personally, I can do without her.
I used to like her early stuff,
"Borderline"...
but once she got off with that
"Papa, Don't Preach" phase, I tuned out.
Hey, you guys are making me
lose my train of thought here.
I was sayin' something.
What was it?
Oh, Toby's that
little Chinese girl.
- What was her last name?
- What's that?
It's an old address book I found in
a coat I haven't worn in a coon's age.
- What was that name?
- What the fuck was I talkin' about?
You said "True Blue"
was about a guy--
a sensitive girl
who meets a nice guy...
but "Like A Virgin"
was a metaphor for big dicks.
Let me tell you what
"Like A Virgin" is about.
It's all about this cooze
who's a regular fuck machine.
I'm talkin' morning, day,
night, afternoon...
dick, dick, dick, dick, dick,
dick, dick, dick, dick!
- How many "dicks" is that?
- A lot.
Then one day, she meets
this John Holmes motherfucker.
It's like, "Whoa, baby." He's like
Charles Bronson in "The Great Escape."
He's diggin' tunnels.
Now she's gettin' serious dick action.
She's feelin' somethin' she ain't
felt since forever: pain, pain.
Chew? Toby Chew?
It hurts. It hurts her.
It shouldn't hurt her.
Her pussy should be Bubble-Yum by now.
But when this cat
fucks her, it hurts.
It hurts just like it did
the first time.
You see, the pain
is reminding a fuck machine...
what it was once like
to be a virgin.
Hence, "Like A Virgin."
Wong.
-Give me that fuckin' thing.
-What in hell do you think you're doin'?
I'm sick of hearin' it, Joe.
I'll give it back to you when we leave.
What do you mean, when we leave?
Give me it back now!
For the past 15 minutes now,
you've been droning on about names.
"Toby. Toby?
Toby? Toby Wong.
Toby Wong? Toby Wong.
Toby Chung fuckin' Charlie Chan."
I've got Madonna's big dick
comin' out of my left ear...
and Toby the Jap-- I don't know what--
comin' out of my right.
Give me that book.
Are you gonna put it away?
I'm gonna do whatever
the fuck I want with it.
Well, then I'm afraid
I'm gonna have to keep it.
Hey, Joe,
want me to shoot this guy?
Shit.
You shoot me in a dream,
you better wake up and apologize.
You guys been listenin' to K-BILLY's
"Super Sounds of the '70s" weekend?
Yeah. That's fuckin' great.
- You believe the songs they're playin'?
- Know what I heard the other day?
"Heartbeat, It's a Lovebeat" by little
Tony DeFranco and the DeFranco family.
I haven't heard that song since
I was in the fifth fuckin' grade.
When I was comin' down here, "The Night
the Lights Went Out in Georgia" came on.
I ain't heard that song
since it was big.
But when it was big, I must've heard it
a million-trillion fuckin' times.
But this is the first time
I ever realized...
that the girl singin' the song
is the one who shot Andy.
You didn't know that Vickie Lawrence
was the one who shot Andy?
- I thought the cheatin' wife shot Andy.
- They say that at the end of the song.
I know, motherfucker. I just heard it.
That's what I'm talkin' about.
I must've zoned out
during that part before.
All right,
I'll take care of the check.
All right,
I'll take care of the check.
You guys can get the tip.
Should be about a buck apiece.
And you, when I come back
I want my book.
Sorry. It's my book now.
Hey, I changed my mind.
Shoot this piece of shit, will ya?
All right, everybody cough up
some green for the little lady.
Come on, throw in a buck.
I don't tip.
- You don't tip?
- I don't believe in it.
You don't believe in tipping?
Do you know what these chicks make?
They make shit.
If she don't make enough money,
she can quit.
I don't even know a fuckin' Jew
who'd have the balls to say that.
Let me get this straight.
You don't ever tip, huh?
I don't tip because
society says I have to.
If they really put forth the effort,
I'll give 'em somethin' extra.
But this tipping automatically,
it's for the birds.
As far as I'm concerned,
they're just doin' their job.
- This girl was nice.
- She was okay.
- She wasn't anything special.
- What's special?
Take you in the back
and suck your dick?
I'd go over 12% for that.
I ordered coffee, all right?
She's only filled my cup three times.
I want it filled six times.
Six times? Well, what if
she's too fuckin' busy?
The words "too fuckin' busy"
shouldn't be in a waitress's vocabulary.
Excuse me, Mr. Pink,
but the last fuckin' thing you need's...
another cup of coffee.
These ladies aren't starvin' to death.
They make minimum wage.
I used to work minimum wage,
and when I did...
I wasn't lucky enough to have a job
that society deemed tip-worthy.
You don't care they're
countin' on your tips to live?
You know what this is?
The world's smallest violin,
playin' just for the waitresses.
You don't have any idea
what you're talkin' about.
These people bust their ass.
This is a hard job.
So's working at McDonald's,
but you don't feel the need to tip them.
They're servin' you food,
but society says...
"Don't tip these guys over here,
but tip these guys." That's bullshit.
Waitressing is
the number-one occupation...
for female non-college graduates
in this country.
It's the one job basically
any woman can get and make a living on.
The reason is
because of their tips.
Fuck all that.
I'm very sorry the government
taxes their tips.
That's fucked up.
That ain't my fault.
It would appear that waitresses
are one of the many groups...
the government fucks in the ass
on a regular basis.
Show me a paper that says the government
shouldn't do that, I'll sign it.
I'll vote for it.
But what I won't do is play ball.
This non-college bullshit, I got two
words for that: Learn to fuckin' type.
If you're expectin' me to help out with
the rent, you're in for a big surprise.
He's convinced me.
Give me my dollar back.
Hey. Leave the dollars there.
All right, ramblers,
let's get ramblin'.
Wait a minute.
Who didn't throw in?
- Mr. Pink.
- Mr. Pink?
- Why not?
- He don't tip.
He don't tip?
- You don't tip?
- He don't believe in it.
Shut up. What do you mean,
you don't believe in it?
Cough up a buck, you cheap bastard.
I paid for your goddamn breakfast.
Since you bought breakfast, I'll put in.
But normally I would never do this.
Never mind what you
normally would do.
Just cough in your goddamn buck
like everybody else. Thank you.
That was the Partridge Family's
"Doesn't Somebody Want To Be Wanted?"...
followed by Edison Lighthouse's...
"Love Grows Where
My Rosemary Goes"...
as K-BILLY's
"Super Sounds of the '70s" weekend...
just keeps on truckin'.
just keeps on truckin'.
I'm gonna die.
I'm gonna die!
Just hold on, buddy boy!
I'm gonna die!
- I'm sorry!
- Give me your hand.
I can't believe she killed me, man!
Who'd have fuckin' thought that?
Hey, just cancel
that shit right now!
You're hurt. You're hurt
real fuckin' bad, but you ain't dying!
All this blood's scarin'
the shit out of me, Larry!
I'm gonna die!
I know it!
Excuse me, I didn't realize
you had a degree in medicine.
Are you a doctor?
Are you a doctor?
Answer me, please!
Are you a doctor?
No, I'm not.
I'm not.
So you admit you don't know
what you're talkin' about.
If you're through givin' me your
amateur opinion, lie back and listen.
I'm takin' you back to the rendezvous,
Joe's gonna get you a doctor...
the doctor's gonna
fix you up and...
you're gonna be okay.
Now say it!
You're gonna be okay!
Say it!
You're gonna be okay!
Say the goddamn words!
You're gonna be okay!
Oh, God!
Say the goddamn fuckin' words!
Say it!
Okay, Larry.
Correct! Correct!
I'm okay.
Look where we are.
Look where we are.
She had a baby, man.
She had a baby!
We're in a warehouse.
Who's a tough guy?
Who's a tough guy?
Come on, who's a tough guy?
Who's a tough guy?
You're a tough guy.
You're a fuckin' tough guy.
We're in a warehouse.
Look where we are.
We made it. We made it.
We fuckin' made it.
We have fuckin' made it.
We're in a warehouse.
Look where we are.
Look where we are.
Hold on. Hold on.
- Shit!
- Stop bangin' your head.
You're gonna bang
a fuckin' hole in the floor.
You don't wanna hurt
the fuckin' floor, do you?
I can't do anything for you.
But when Joe gets here...
which should be any time now...
he's gonna help you out,
he's gonna take care of you.
We're gonna sit
and wait for Joe.
- Who are we waitin' for?
- Joe.
Larry, I'm fucking scared, man.
Would you please hold me?
Yeah, sure.
You go ahead and be scared.
You've been brave enough
for one day.
I just want you
to relax now, okay?
You're not gonna fuckin' die.
You're gonna be fine.
When Joe gets here,
he'll make you 100% again.
Am I hurt?
I'm hurt bad, Larry.
It's not good, no.
Hey, Larry...
bless your heart
for what you're tryin' to do.
I was panicking
for a minute back there.
But I got my senses back now.
The situation is,
I'm shot in the belly.
Without medical attention,
I'm gonna die.
- I can't take you to a hospital.
- Fuck jail, man!
You don't have to take me in.
Just drive me up to the front, man.
Just drop me on the sidewalk.
I'll take care of myself.
I won't tell 'em anything, man.
I won't tell 'em anything.
I swear to fucking God, man.
Just look in my eyes, Larry.
Look in my eyes.
I won't tell them anything.
You'll be safe, man.
You're not gonna fuckin' die, kid.
All right?
Listen to me.
You're gonna be fine.
Along with the kneecap...
the gut is the most painful area
a guy can get shot in.
No shit!
But it takes a long time
to die from it.
I'm talkin' days.
You're gonna wish you were dead, but
it takes days to die from your wound.
Time is on your side.
Was that a fucking setup, or what?
Shit. Orange got tagged?
Gut shot.
Fuck. Where's Brown?
Dead.
How did he die?
How the fuck do you think?
The cops shot him.
This is bad.
This is so fucking bad.
Is it bad?
As opposed to good?
Man, this is fucked up.
This is so fucked up.
Somebody fucked us up
big time, man.
- You really think we were set up?
- Do you even doubt it, man?
I don't think we got set up, I know it.
Where did all those cops come from, huh?
One minute they're not there,
and the next minute they're there.
I didn't hear any sirens.
The alarm went off, okay?
When an alarm goes, you got
a four-minute response time.
Unless a patrol car is cruising
that street at that moment...
you got four minutes before
they can realistically respond.
In one minute, there were
17 blue boys out there...
all knowing exactly what the fuck they
were doing, and they were all there!
Remember that second wave
that showed up in the cars?
Those were the ones responding to the
alarm, but those first motherfuckers...
they were there
and they were waitin' for us.
Haven't you fuckin'
thought about this?
I haven't had a chance to think.
First I was just tryin'
to get the fuck outta there.
And after we got away,
I've just been dealin' with him.
Better start thinkin' about it,
'cause that's all I'm thinkin' about.
I wasn't even gonna come here.
I was just gonna drive off, man...
because whoever set us up
knows about this place.
There could've been cops here waitin'!
There could be cops comin' right now!
Let's go in the other room.
Hey. In there.
Larry, don't leave me.
I'll be right in the other room, okay?
I'll be right there lookin' at ya.
I'm right here
lookin' at you, okay?
I'm right over there.
Larry...
I'm gonna fucking die.
Larry.
What the fuck
am I doin' here, man?
I felt funny about
this job right off.
As soon as I felt it I should have said,
"No, thank you," but I never listen.
Every time I ever got fucked
buying weed, the same thing.
I didn't trust the guy,
but I wanted to believe him.
If he's not lying and it really
is Thai stick, then it's great.
But it never is, and I always said that
if I felt that about a job, I'd walk.
And I didn't. I didn't
because of the fuckin' money!
What's done is done.
I need you cool.
Are you cool?
I'm cool.
Splash some water on your face.
Take a breather.
Relax. Have a cigarette.
I quit.
- All right.
- Why, you got one?
Okay, let's go through
what happened.
We're in the place,
everything's going fine.
Then the alarm gets tripped.
I turn around
and all these cops are outside.
You're right. It was like, bam,
I blinked my eyes and they're there.
Everybody starts going ape-shit.
Then Mr. Blonde starts to shoot all--
- That's not correct.
- What's wrong with it?
Okay. The cops did not show up
after the alarm went off.
The cops didn't show up until after
Mr. Blonde started shootin' everybody.
- Soon as I heard the alarm, I saw cops.
- It wasn't that soon.
They didn't let their presence be known
until after Mr. Blonde became a madman.
I'm not sayin' they weren't there.
I'm sayin' they were there.
But they didn't make a move until after
Mr. Blonde started shootin' everybody.
I mean, that's how
I know we were set up.
- Mr. White, you can see that--
- Enough of this "Mr. White" shit.
Wait! Don't tell me you're fuckin' name!
I don't wanna know it!
Jesus Christ,
I ain't gonna tell you mine.
You're right.
This is bad.
- How did you get out?
- I shot my way out.
Everybody started shootin',
so I blasted my way out of there.
Move it! Get outta the way!
Get the fuck outta the way!
Get the fuck outta the way!
Move it!
Get outta the way!
Jesus Christ!
What the fuck is your problem, man?
- You fuckin' asshole!
- Fuck you!
Move!
Jesus!
Get outta the car!
Get the fuck outta the car!
Move it!
Move outta the way!
I tagged a couple of cops.
Did you kill anybody?
- A few cops.
- No real people?
Just cops.
Could you believe Mr. Blonde?
That was the most insane
fuckin' thing I have ever seen.
Why the fuck would Joe
hire a guy like that?
I don't want to kill anybody.
If I gotta get out that door
and you're standin' in my way...
one way or the other
you're gettin' outta my way.
That's the way I look at it.
The choice between
doin' ten years...
and takin' out
some stupid motherfucker...
ain't no choice at all.
But I ain't no madman, either.
What the fuck was Joe thinkin'?
You can't work with a guy like that.
We're awful goddamn lucky he didn't
tag us when he shot the place up.
I came this close
to takin' his ass out myself.
I mean, everybody panics.
Everybody.
Things get tense.
It's human nature.
You panic. I don't care what
your name is, you can't help it.
Fuck, man, you panic on the inside,
in your head, you know?
You give yourself a couple of seconds,
get ahold of it and deal with it.
What you don't do is start shootin' up
the place and start killin' people.
What you're supposed to do
is act like a fuckin' professional.
A psychopath ain't a professional.
You can't work with a psychopath.
You don't know what those
sick assholes are gonna do next.
I mean, Jesus Christ, how old do you
think that black girl was? Twenty?
- Maybe 21?
- If that.
Did you see what happened
to anybody else?
Me and Orange jumped in the car,
Brown floored it.
After that,
I don't know what went down.
It was every man for himself.
As far as Mr. Blonde and Mr. Blue are
concerned, I ain't got the foggiest...
'cause once I got out,
I never looked back.
What do you think?
What do I think? The cops either
caught 'em or killed 'em.
No chance they punched through?
You found a hole.
Yeah, and that was
a fuckin' miracle.
But even if they did get away,
then where the fuck are they?
You don't think it's possible one of 'em
got ahold of the diamonds and--
- No, no way.
- How can you be so sure?
I got the diamonds.
That's my boy.
- Where?
- I stashed 'em.
If you wanna come with me,
let's go get 'em right now, this second.
'Cause I think stayin' here, man, we
should have our fuckin' heads examined.
That was the plan.
We meet here.
Then where the fuck is everybody?
I say the plan becomes null and void
once we found out we got a rat here.
We ain't got the slightest idea
what happened to Mr. Blonde or Mr. Blue.
They could both be dead
or maybe they're arrested.
The cops could have 'em right now
at the station, sweatin' 'em down.
They don't know our names, but they
could be singin' about this place.
I swear to God,
I think I'm fuckin' jinxed.
What?
Two jobs back,
it was a four-man job.
We discovered one of the team
was an undercover cop.
No shit?
Thank God we discovered in time.
We had to forget the whole thing,
just walk the fuck away from it.
So who's the rat this time?
Mr. Blue?
Mr. Brown?
Joe? Joe set this whole thing up.
Maybe he set it up to set it up.
I don't buy it.
Me and Joe go back a long time.
I can tell you definitely, Joe didn't
know a thing about this bullshit.
I know Joe, and me sayin' he definitely
had nothin' to do with it is ridiculous.
I can say I definitely didn't do it,
'cause I know what I did or didn't do.
But I cannot definitely say that about
anybody, 'cause I don't definitely know.
For all I know, you're the rat.
For all I know,
you're the fuckin' rat!
All right, now you're usin'
your fuckin' head.
For all we know, he's the rat.
That kid in there is dying
from a fuckin' bullet I saw him take...
so don't you be calling him a rat!
Look, I'm right, okay?
Somebody's a fuckin' rat.
Where's the commode in this dungeon?
I gotta take a squirt.
Go down the hall, make a left,
go up the stairs...
and make a right.
- By the way, how's Alabama?
- Alabama?
I haven't seen Bama
in over a year and a half.
But I thought you two
were a team.
We were for a little while.
Did about four jobs together,
then decided to call it quits.
Why?
You push that woman-man thing too long
and it gets to you after a while.
What's she doin' now?
She hooked up with Frank McGar.
They've done a couple jobs together.
Hell of a woman.
Good little thief.
- So explain the telegram.
- Five-man job.
Bustin' in and bustin' out
of a diamond wholesaler's.
Can you move the ice afterwards?
I don't know nobody that can move ice.
No problem.
We got guys waitin' for it.
What happened to Marcellus Spivey?
Didn't he always move your ice?
He's doin' 20 years in Susanville.
Twenty years? Holy God.
What for?
Bad luck.
I guess you can say that again.
What's the exposure like?
Two minutes, tops.
But it's a tough two minutes.
Daylight, during business hours,
dealing with a crowd.
But you'll have the guys
to deal with the crowd.
- How many employees?
- I'd say around 20.
Security pretty lax.
They most usually
just deal in boxes.
You know, uncut stones
from the diamond syndicate.
But on this day, they're getting a
shipment of polished stones from lsrael.
They're like a way station,
you know?
-They get picked up and sent to Vermont.
-No, they're not.
What's the cut, poppa?
Juicy, junior.
Real juicy.
Look, man, you do what you want.
I'm outta here, man. I'm gonna
check into a motel for a few days.
You know, I'll lay low
and I'll call Joe--
Shit. Did he fuckin' die on us?
Huh? ls he dead or what?
- He ain't dead.
- What is it?
I think he's just passed out.
He scared the fuckin' shit outta me.
I thought he was dead for sure.
Without medical attention,
he will die for sure.
What are we gonna do, man?
We can't take him to the hospital.
Without medical attention,
he might not live through the night.
The bullet in his belly
is my fault.
While that might not mean jack shit
to you, it means a hell of a lot to me.
First things first, okay?
Stayin' here's goofy. We gotta book up.
So what do you suggest we do?
Go to a hotel?
We got a guy who's shot in the belly,
who can't walk, bleeds like a stuck pig.
And when he's awake,
he screams in pain.
You got an idea, spit it out.
Joe could help.
If we could get in touch with Joe,
Joe could get him to a doctor.
Joe could get a doctor
to come to see him.
Assuming we can trust Joe,
how we gonna get in touch with him?
He's supposed to be here, but he ain't,
which makes me nervous about bein' here.
Even if he is on the up and up, I don't
think he's gonna be too happy with us.
He planned a robbery and
he's got a bloodbath on his hands now.
He's got dead cops, dead robbers,
dead civilians.
I tend to doubt he's gonna have
a lot of sympathy for our plight.
If I was him, I'd put as much distance
between me and this mess as possible.
Before you got here,
Mr. Orange...
was askin' me to take him
to a doctor, to a hospital.
I don't like the idea of
turnin' him over to the cops...
but if we don't,
he's gonna die.
He begged me to do it.
Well, all right.
Then I guess we take him to a hospital.
If that's what he said,
let's do it.
Since he don't know nothin' about us,
I say it's his decision.
He knows a little about me.
What? Wait, wait.
You didn't tell him your name, did you?
I told him my first name
and where I was from.
Why?
I told him where I was from
a few days ago.
It was just
a natural conversation.
What was tellin' him your name
when you weren't supposed to?
He asked.
We had just gotten away from the cops.
He just got shot.
It was my fault he got shot.
He's a fuckin' bloody mess.
He's screamin'.
I swear to God, I thought he was
gonna die right then and there.
I'm tryin' to comfort him,
telling him not to worry...
everything's going to be okay,
I'm gonna take care of him.
And he asked me
what my name was.
I mean, the man was dyin' in my arms.
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
Tell him I'm sorry? I can't
give out that fuckin' information?
It's against the rules?
I don't trust you enough?
Maybe I should've,
but I couldn't.
Fuck you! Fuck Joe!
- I'm sure it was a beautiful scene.
- Don't fuckin' patronize me!
I have one question. Do they have
a sheet on you where you're from?
- Yeah!
- That's that, then.
I mean, I was worried about
mug shot possibility as it was.
He knows A, your name, B, your face,
C, your hometown and D, your specialty.
They're not gonna have to show him a lot
of pictures for him to pick you out!
You didn't tell him anything else
so they could narrow down the selection?
If I have to tell you again to back off,
we're gonna go 'round and 'round.
We ain't takin' him to a hospital.
If we don't, he's gonna die.
And I'm very sad about that, but
some fellas are lucky and some ain't.
What the fuck are you
touchin' me for, man?
I'll show you
who you're fuckin' with!
You wanna shoot me,
you piece of shit?
I didn't create this situation,
I'm dealin' with it!
You're actin' like a first-year thief!
I'm actin' like a professional!
If they get him, they could get you,
they could get closer to me...
and that can't happen!
You're lookin' at me like it's my fault?
I didn't tell him my name!
I didn't tell him
where I was from!
Shit! Fifteen minutes ago
you almost told me your name!
You're gonna get stuck
in a situation you created!
So if you wanna throw bad looks around,
throw 'em at a mirror!
You kids shouldn't play so rough.
Somebody's gonna start cryin'.
Mr. Blonde.
Shit. You're fuckin' kickin' me.
What happened to you?
Figured you were dead.
Hey, you okay?
Did you see what happened to Blue?
We didn't know what happened to you.
That's what we were wonderin' about.
Look, Brown is dead,
Orange got it in the belly.
Enough! Enough!
You better start talkin', asshole.
'Cause we got shit
we need to talk about.
We're already freaked out.
We need you actin' freaky
like we need a fuckin' bag on our hip.
Okay, let's talk.
We think we got
a rat in the house.
I guarantee we got
a rat in the house.
What makes you say that?
Is that supposed to be funny?
Look, we think
this place ain't safe.
This place ain't secure anymore.
We're leavin' and you should go with us.
Nobody's goin' anywhere.
Piss on this fuckin' turd.
- We're outta here.
- Don't take another step, Mr. White.
Fuck you, maniac!
It's your fuckin' fault
we're in this trouble!
What's this guy's problem?
What's my problem?
Yeah, I got a fuckin' problem!
I got a big fuckin' problem...
with any trigger-happy madman
who almost gets me shot!
- What the fuck you talkin' about?
- That fucking shooting spree!
In the store! Remember?
Oh, fuck 'em. They set off the alarm.
They deserve what they got.
You almost killed me!
Asshole!
If I knew what kind of guy you were, I
never would've agreed to work with you.
Are you gonna bark all day,
little doggie...
or are you gonna bite?
What was that?
I'm sorry, I didn't catch it.
Would you repeat it?
Are you gonna bark all day,
little doggie...
or are you gonna bite?
You two assholes, calm the fuck down!
Hey, come on!
What, are we on a playground here?
Am I the only professional?
You're actin' like
a bunch of fuckin' niggers!
Ever work with niggers? Always sayin'
they're gonna kill each other.
You said yourself
you thought about taking him out.
- You fuckin' said that?
- Yeah, I did, okay?
But that was then. Right now, this guy
is the only one I completely trust.
-He's too homicidal to be with the cops.
-You takin' his side?
Fuck sides, man!
What we need here is solidarity!
Somebody's stickin' a red-hot poker
up our ass, and I want to know who.
Fuck. Look, I know
I'm no piece of shit.
I'm pretty sure you're okay, and I'm
fuckin' positive you're on the level.
So let's try and figure out
who the bad guy is, all right?
Wow.
That was really exciting.
I bet you're a big
Lee Marvin fan, aren't ya?
Yeah, me too.
I love that guy.
My heart's beatin' so fast,
I'm about to have a heart attack here.
I got somethin' outside that
I'd like to show you guys, so follow me.
Follow you? Where?
To my car.
Did you forget your French fries
to go with the soda?
No, I had them already. I got somethin'
I think you might wanna see, though.
- What?
- It's a big surprise.
I'm sure you'll like it.
Come on.
We still gotta get
outta here, you know.
No. We're gonna stick around
and we're gonna wait.
- What for? The cops?
- No. Nice Guy Eddie.
Nice Guy Eddie? What makes you think he
isn't on a plane halfway to Costa Rica?
Because I spoke to him on the phone
and he said he's on the way down here.
You talked to Nice Guy Eddie? Why
didn't you say that in the first place?
- 'Cause you never asked me.
- Hardy-fuckin'-har.
- What'd he say?
- He said stay put.
So in the meantime...
I'll show you guys somethin'.
Jesus Christ.
Maybe our boy in blue here
can answer some of these questions...
about this rat business
you've been talkin' about.
You're a piece of work,
my friend.
Let's get him
the fuck outta here.
Hey, Sid, will you relax?
I've known you a long time.
I'm not worried.
I know you'll pay me back.
Don't tell me what I already know.
Don't embarrass me.
So you had a few bad months.
You do what everybody else does.
I don't care if it's J.P. Morgan
or lrving the tailor. You ride it out.
- Vic Vega's outside.
- Hold on.
- Who?
- Vic Vega.
Tell him to come in.
I gotta go.
- Come on in.
- A friend of mine's outside.
I'll be talkin' to you.
Don't worry.
Hey, welcome home, Vic.
How does freedom feel, huh?
- It's a change.
- Ain't that the sad truth.
Sit down, take your coat off,
make yourself at home.
- Have a little drink?
- Yeah.
How about a little Remy Martin?
Sure.
Who's your parole officer?
Seymour Scagnetti.
How is he?
He's a fuckin' asshole.
Won't even let me
leave the halfway house.
It never ceases to amaze me.
A fuckin' jungle bunny goes out there,
slits a woman's throat for 25 cents...
he gets Doris Day
for a parole officer.
A good fella like you
winds up with a ball-bustin' prick.
I want you to know I appreciate all
the packages you sent me on the inside.
What the hell
was I supposed to do?
Forget about you?
I just want you to know
that it meant a lot to me.
It was the least I could do. I wish
to hell I could've done a lot more.
Thanks a lot, Joe.
Ah, Vic.
Toothpick Vic.
So tell me your story, kid.
What are your plans?
You son of a bitch. I see you
sittin' there, but I don't believe it.
- How you doin', Toothpick?
- Hey, Eddie.
Listen, I'm sorry.
I should've picked you up myself.
I was-- My fuckin'--
This week's been crazy.
I've had my head up my ass
the whole time.
Funny you say that, 'cause that's what
me and your daddy were talkin' about.
That I should've picked you up?
No, that you had
your head up your ass.
I walk in the door, he's like,
"Vic, Vic...
I'm so glad somebody's finally here
who knows what's goin' on.
My son Eddie's a fuck-up.
He's ruining the business.
I mean, I love the guy, but he's
flushin' everything down the toilet."
That's what you said, right, Joe?
Tell him yourself.
Eddie, I hate for you
to hear it like this...
but Vic came in
and asked me how business was.
You don't lie to a guy who's
just done four years in the slammer.
That's very true.
All right, enough of this shit!
Break it up!
Come on, this ain't a playground!
You guys wanna roll around on the floor,
you do it in Eddie's office, not mine.
- Daddy, did you see that?
- What?
The guy got me on the ground,
he tried to fuck me.
- You wish.
- You sick bastard, Vic.
You tried to fuck me
in my father's office.
Look, Vic, whatever you wanna do
in the privacy of your own home...
go to it,
but don't try to fuck me.
I don't think of you that way.
I like you a lot, buddy,
but I don't think of you that way.
Listen, if I was a butt cowboy,
I wouldn't even throw you to the posse.
No, you wouldn't.
You'd keep me for yourself.
Four years fuckin' punks up the ass,
you'd appreciate a piece of prime rib.
I might break you in, Nice Guy,
but I'd make you my dog's bitch.
Ain't that a sad sight, Daddy?
A man walks into prison a white man,
walks out talkin' like a fuckin' nigger.
You know what?
I think it's all that black semen...
pumped up your asshole, now it's
backed into your fuckin' brain...
and it's comin' out your mouth!
Eddie, you keep talkin' like a bitch,
I'm gonna slap you like a bitch.
Enough of that shit!
I'm sick of it!
Now both of you, sit down.
Now, Eddie...
when you came in here,
we were talkin' some serious business.
Vic here's got a parole problem.
- Who's your P.O.?
- Seymour Scagnetti.
Scagnetti. Fuck.
- I hear he's a motherfucker.
- Oh, he's a fucker.
Won't even let me leave the halfway
house unless I get some shitty job.
You're comin' back
to work for us, right?
Well, I wanna.
But first I gotta prove to,
uh, ass-head...
that I can get a regular,
you know, job-type job...
before I can move out on my own.
I can't come back to work for you guys
if I gotta worry about, uh...
makin' some silly-ass
10:00 curfew...
every fuckin' night.
We can work this out,
can't we, Eddie?
This ain't all that bad.
We can get you
a lot of legitimate jobs.
I'll get you down in Long Beach
as a dockworker.
I don't wanna lift
no fuckin' crates, Eddie.
You ain't gonna lift shit.
You don't even work there.
But as far as the records
are concerned, you do.
I call Matthews and tell him he's got
a new guy, boom, you're on the rotation.
You get a time card. It's clocked
in and out for you every day.
At the end of the week you get a nice
paycheck. Dockworkers do very well.
You can move into a halfway decent place
without Scagnetti goin'...
"Where the fuck's
the money comin' from?"
And, if he decides
to make a surprise visit...
that's the day we sent you to Tustin
to pick up a load of shit.
If he comes back again, hey,
"Sorry, Seymour.
You just missed him.
We had to send him to the Taft airstrip
five fuckin' hours away.
We had a load of shit he had to
pick up there and bring back here."
Part of your job is goin' different
places. That's the beauty of it.
We got places all over the place.
See, Vic?
Did I tell you not to worry?
- Vic was worried.
- I'll take you to Long Beach tomorrow.
We'll get you fixed up with Matthews,
I'll tell him what's what.
You know, I really appreciate
what you guys are doin'...
but I'd like to know
when I can come back...
you know, do some real work.
Well, it's hard to say.
It's kind of a strange time now.
Things are kind of--
They're a little fucked up,
is what they are.
We're just gettin' ready for
a big meetin' right now in Vegas.
Look, just let Eddie for now
set you up at Long Beach.
Get you a job,
give you some cash...
and get this Scagnetti fuck
off your back...
and then we'll talk
to you, all right?
Huh?
Dad, I got an idea.
Just hear me out.
I know you don't like usin'
the boys on these jobs...
but Vic here-- I mean, he's only
been nothin' but good luck for us.
The guy's a fuckin' rabbit's foot,
for cryin' out loud.
I'd like to have him in.
You know he can handle himself, and
you damn sure know you can trust him.
All right, Vic...
how would you feel about pullin'
a job with about five other guys?
I'd feel great about it.
K-BILLY's "Super Sounds
of the '70s" continues.
If you're the 12th caller...
you'll win two tickets to
the monster truck extravaganza...
being held tonight
at the Carson Fairgrounds...
featuring Big Daddy Don Bodine's truck,
"The Behemoth."
The 12th caller wins on the station
where the '70s survived.
Hey, Dov, we got
a major situation here.
I know you know that. I gotta talk to
Daddy and find out what he wants done.
All I know is what Vic told me.
The place turned into a bullet-fest.
He took a cop hostage
just to get the fuck outta there.
Get up! Get up!
Do I sound like
I'm fuckin' jokin'?
He's fuckin' drivin' around
with a cop in his trunk!
I don't know who did what!
I don't know who's got the loot.
I don't know if anybody's got the loot.
I don't know who's dead, who's alive,
who's caught, who's not.
I will know.
I'm practically there now.
But what do I tell
these guys about Daddy?
All right.
You sure that's what he said?
Okay, that's what I'll tell 'em.
Huh? Fuck you!
You like bein' a fuckin' hero?
You like bein' a fuckin' hero?
You like bein' a fuckin' hero?
You're gonna suffer
for nothin', pal.
You hear me?
'Cause you're gonna fuckin' talk.
- I don't fucking know anything!
- You fuckin' know.
You know. Look at me.
You fuckin' know.
What in the Sam Hill's
goin' on here?
- Nice Guy, we got a cop.
- Where the fuck is Joe?
Holy shit. Orange is dead.
No, he's not dead, but he will be
if we don't get him taken care of.
We were set up.
The cops were there waitin' for us.
What? Nobody fuckin'
set anybody up.
The cops were there
waitin' for us.
- Bullshit.
- Fuck you, man!
You weren't there, we were,
and the cops had that store staked out.
Okay, Mr. Fuckin' Detective,
you're so fuckin' smart.
- Who did it?
- We've been askin' each other!
What'd you come up with?
You think I fuckin' set you up?
I don't know, but somebody did.
Nobody did. You fuckin' assholes
turned the jewelry store--
- Don't you call me an asshole!
- You fuckin' idiot!
Turned the jewelry store
into a wild west show...
and you wonder why
the fuckin' cops show up?
Where's Joseph?
I don't know.
I ain't talked to him.
I talked to Dov. He says Daddy's comin'
down here and he's fuckin' pissed.
He's pissed?
I told you he'd be pissed.
What'd Joe say?
I told you,
I ain't talked to him!
- All I know is he's pissed.
- What are you gonna do about him?
Give me a fuckin' chance to breathe.
I got a few questions of my own here.
You ain't dying. He is.
All right, Mr. Fuckin' Compassion,
I will call somebody!
Who?
A fuckin' snake charmer!
Who do you think? I'll call a doctor.
They'll fix him right up.
What happened to Brown and Blue?
Brown's dead.
We don't know what happened to Blue.
Brown's dead? Are you sure?
I'm sure. I was there.
He took one in the head.
Nobody's got a clue
what happened to Mr. Blue?
Either he's alive or he's dead...
or the cops got him
or they don't.
I take it this is the bastard
you told me about.
Why are you beatin' on him?
Maybe he could tell us
who set us up.
You beat this prick long enough, he'll
tell you he started the Chicago Fire.
Now that don't necessarily
make it fuckin' so!
Come on, man, think!
All right,
first things fuckin' last.
Who's got the stones? Please, somebody
tell me one little fuckin' favor.
I got a bag.
Okay? I stashed it 'til we could be sure
this place wasn't a police station.
Good for you.
Now let's go get it.
First we gotta get rid of those cars.
It looks like Sam's Hot Car Lot outside.
Okay.
Blondie, stay here
and baby-sit them two.
White and Pink,
take a car each.
I'll follow you. You ditch 'em.
Pick up the stones.
While I'm followin' you, I'll arrange
some sort of a doctor for our friend.
You can't leave these guys
here with him.
- Why not?
- Because he's a fuckin' psycho.
And if you think
Joe's pissed off...
that ain't nothin' compared
to how pissed off I am at him...
for puttin' me
in the same room as that bastard.
You see what I've been
puttin' up with, Eddie?
I fuckin' walked in here,
I told these guys about stayin' put.
Mr. White whips out his gun,
he's stickin' it in my face...
callin' me a motherfucker,
sayin' he's gonna blow me away...
and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
He's the reason the joint
turned into a shootin' spree.
What are you,
a fuckin' silent partner?
Tell him!
He went crazy in the store,
but he seems all right now.
This is what he was doin':
bam, bam...
bam, bam.
Yeah, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.
I told 'em not to touch
the fuckin' alarm, they did.
If they hadn't have done what I told 'em
not to do, they'd still be alive.
My fuckin' hero.
Thanks.
That's your excuse for going
on a kill-crazy rampage?
I don't like alarms, Mr. White.
What does it matter
who stays with the cop?
We ain't lettin' him go.
He's seen everybody.
I haven't been looking at you guys.
Shut the fuck up, man!
You guys should never have taken him
outta the trunk in the first place.
- We tried to find out about the setup.
- There is no fuckin' setup!
Now here's the news!
Blondie, you stay here,
take care of these two!
White and Pink, you come with me,
'cause if Joe gets here...
and he sees all these
cars parked outside...
I swear to you he's gonna be
just as mad at me as he is at you.
Fine. Let's go.
Alone at last.
Guess what.
I think I'm parked in the red zone.
Now, where were we?
I told you, I don't know anything
about any fuckin' setup.
I've been on the force
for only eight months.
They don't tell me anything.
Nobody tells me shit.
You can torture me all you want.
Torture you?
That's a good--
That's a good idea.
I like that one, yeah.
Even your boss said
there wasn't a setup.
- My what?
- Your boss.
Excuse me, pal.
One thing I wanna make clear to you:
I don't have a boss.
Nobody tells me what to do.
You understand?
You hear what I said,
you son of a bitch?
All right, all right, all right,
you don't have a boss.
Get that fuckin' shit off.
Look, I'm not gonna
bullshit you, okay?
I don't really give a good fuck
what you know or don't know...
but I'm gonna
torture you anyway...
regardless.
Not to get information.
It's amusing to me...
to torture a cop.
You can say anything you want
because I've heard it all before.
All you can do is...
pray for a quick death...
which...
you ain't gonna get.
Oh, God.
You ever listen to K-BILLY's
"Super Sounds of the '70s"?
It's my personal favorite.
Joe Egan and Gerry Rafferty
were a duo known as Stealer's Wheel...
when they recorded this Dylanesque,
pop, bubble-gum favorite...
from April of 1974.
That reached up to number five...
as K-BILLY's "Super Sounds
of the '70s" continues.
Hold still.
Hold still, you fuck.
Was that good for you too?
Hey, what's goin' on?
You hear that?
Don't go anywhere.
I'll be right back.
Don't! Stop! Stop!
- What? What's the matter?
- Don't do this.
That burn a little bit?
Don't! Stop!
Please stop.
Just stop. Stop.
Just talk to me.
Don't. Please.
Don't burn me, please.
I don't know anything about
any of you fucking guys.
I'm not gonna say anything.
No! Please, no.
- You all through?
- Stop!
You all through?
Please.
I got a little kid at home.
You all done?
- Don't!
- Have some fire.
Oh, shit.
Hey, you.
What's your name?
Marvin.
Marvin what?
Marvin Nash.
Listen to me, Marvin.
I'm a--
Listen to me, Marvin Nash.
I'm a cop.
Yeah, I know.
You do?
Yeah.
Your name's Freddy somethin'.
Newendyke.
Freddy Newendyke.
Frankie Ferchetti...
introduced us
about five months ago.
I don't remember that at all.
I do.
Freddy.
How do I look?
What?
I don't know what to tell you,
Marvin.
That fuck.
That sick fuck!
That fuckin' bastard!
Marvin, I need you to hold on.
There's cops waiting to move
a block away.
What the fuck
are they waiting for?
This fuckin' guy,
he slashes my face...
and cuts my fuckin' ear off!
I'm fuckin' deformed!
Fuck you!
I'm fuckin' dyin' here!
I'm fuckin' dyin'!
They're not to make a move
'til Joe Cabot shows up.
I was sent in to get him.
All right?
You heard 'em.
They said he's on his way.
Don't pussy out on me now,
Marvin.
We're just gonna sit here
and bleed...
'til Joe Cabot sticks
his fuckin' head through that door.
Say hello to a motherfucker
who's inside.
Cabot's doing a job.
He wants me on the team.
This better not be a joke.
This ain't a joke.
I'm in. I'm up his ass.
Nice Guy Eddie tells me
Joe wants to meet me.
He says I should just wait
for a phone call.
After waiting three days he calls me
last night and says Joe's ready.
- He'll pick me up in 15 minutes.
- Who picked you up?
- Nice Guy. We get to a bar.
- What bar?
Smokey Pete's in Gardena.
We get there...
and I meet Joe
and a guy named Mr. White.
Phony name.
My name's Mr. Orange.
- Mr. Orange?
- Mr. Orange.
Okay, Mr. Orange.
- You ever see this motherfucker before?
- Who? Mr. White?
Yes. Mr. White.
No. He ain't one of Cabot's men either.
He's gotta be from out of town.
- Joe knows him good.
- How can you tell?
The way they talk.
You can tell they're buddies.
- You two talk?
- Me and Joe?
Mr. White.
- A little.
- About what?
The Brewers.
Milwaukee Brewers?
They won the night before.
He made some money off them.
Good. If this crook's a Brewers fan,
he's gotta be from Wisconsin.
And I'll bet you everything...
they got a sheet in Milwaukee
on this Mr. White's ass.
So I want you to go through
everybody in Milwaukee...
with a history of armed robbery
and put a name to the face.
- Nice work, Freddy.
- Thank you, my man.
- How was Long Beach Mike's referral?
- Perfect.
His backing me up went a long way.
I told them I played poker with him.
Nice Guy checked it out
and said it was A-okay.
Said I was a good thief,
I didn't rattle...
and that I was ready to move.
He's a good guy.
I wouldn't be inside without him.
Long Beach Mike
is not your friend.
Long Beach Mike
is a fucking scumbag.
He's selling out his friends.
That's how nice he fuckin' is.
I'll take care of his ass...
but you get that scumbag out of mind
and take care of business.
Gone.
Use the commode story?
- What's the commode story?
- It's a scene. Memorize it.
- A what?
- Undercover cops gotta be Brando.
To do this job you gotta be
a great actor, naturalistic.
You gotta be naturalistic as hell.
If you're a bad actor,
that's bullshit in this job.
What is this?
That's an amusing anecdote
about a drug deal.
Something funny that happened to you
while you were doing a job.
I gotta memorize all this?
There's four pages of this shit.
Think about it like it's a joke.
Memorize what's important.
The rest you make your own.
You can tell a joke,
can't you?
Well, pretend you're Don Rickles...
and tell a joke, all right?
The things you gotta remember
are the details.
The details sell your story.
This particular story
takes place in a men's room.
You gotta know
all the details--
whether they got paper towels
or a blower to dry your hands.
You gotta know if the stalls
ain't got no doors or not.
You gotta know if they got liquid soap
or that pink, granulated shit...
they used in high school.
You gotta know if they got
hot water or not, if it stinks...
if some nasty, lowlife,
scum-ridden motherfucker...
sprayed diarrhea
all over one of the bowls.
You gotta know every detail
there is to know about this commode.
What you gotta do is take
all them details and make 'em your own.
While you're doing that, remember
that this story is about you...
and how you perceived
the events that went down.
The only way to do that...
is keep sayin' it...
and sayin' it and sayin' it.
This is during
the L.A. marijuana drought, 1986.
I still had a connection,
which was insane 'cause...
you couldn't get any weed
anywhere then.
Anyway, I had a connection with
this hippie chick in Santa Cruz...
and all my friends knew it.
They call me and say,
"Hey, Freddy--"
I say, "Hey, dude.
You gettin' some?
Can you get some for me too?"
They knew I still smoked,
so they asked me to buy some for them.
It got to be--
Every time I bought some weed
I was buyin' for four or five people.
Finally I said, fuck this shit.
I'm makin' this bitch rich.
She didn't even have to
meet these people.
I was doing all the work.
That got to be a pain in the ass,
people calling all the time.
I couldn't even rent a tape
without six fuckin' interruptions.
"When's the next time
you're gettin' some?"
"Motherfucker, I'm tryin'
to watch The Lost Boys.
When I get some,
I'll call you."
Then these rink-a-dink
potheads come by.
They're my friends and everything,
but still--
I got it laid out in 60-dollar bags,
they don't want 60 dollars worth.
They want ten dollars' worth,
and breaking it up wasn't easy.
I don't even know
what ten dollars' worth looks like.
This was a very weird situation.
Remember back in '86...
there was a major
fuckin' drought.
Nobody had anything.
People were livin' on resin,
smokin' the wood in their pipes.
This chick had a bunch
and she's beggin' me to sell it.
So I told her I wasn't gonna be
Joe the pot man anymore...
but I would take a little bit
and sell it to my close friends.
She agreed and we kept
the same arrangement as before--
ten percent
and free pot for me...
if I helped her
that weekend.
She was sellin' a brick of weed
and didn't wanna go to the buy alone.
Her brother usually goes with her,
but he's in County unexpectedly.
What for?
His traffic tickets
gone to warrant.
They stopped him, found warrants
on him, took him to County.
She doesn't wanna walk around alone
with all that weed.
I don't wanna do this.
I have a very bad feeling about it.
She keeps asking me, asking me.
Finally I said okay
'cause I'm sick of hearing it.
- So we go to the train station--
- Wait.
You're goin' to the train station
with the weed on ya?
The guy needed it right away.
Anyway, we get to
the train station...
and we're waitin' for the guy.
I'm carryin' the weed
in a carry-on bag.
I gotta take a piss, so I tell her
I'm goin' to the boy's room.
So I walk into the men's room
and who's standing there?
Four Los Angeles County sheriffs
and a German shepherd.
- They're waitin' for you?
- No, they're just talkin'.
When I walked in,
they all stopped talkin'...
and they looked at me.
That's hard.
That's a fuckin' hard situation.
German shepherd starts barking.
He's barkin' at me.
I mean, it's obvious
he's barkin' at me.
Every nerve ending, all of my senses,
the blood in the veins was screamin':
"Take off, man. Just bail.
Get the fuck outta there."
Panic hits me
like a bucket of water.
Bam! Right in the face.
I'm drenched in panic and these cops
are lookin' at me and they know it.
They can smell it,
sure as that fuckin' dog can.
They can smell it on me.
Shut up.
So anyway,
I got my gun drawn.
I point it at this guy
and I tell him...
"Freeze.
Don't fuckin' move."
This little idiot's
looking right at me and saying...
"I know, I know."
But meanwhile his right hand
is creepin' toward the glove box.
I scream at him, "Asshole!
I'm gonna blow you away right now!
Put your hands on the dash."
He's still looking at me,
nodding his head.
"I know, buddy, I know."
Meanwhile his hand is still
going for the glove box.
And I said...
"Buddy, I'm gonna shoot you
in the face...
if you don't put your hands up."
Then this guy's girlfriend,
this real sexy Oriental bitch...
she starts screaming at him:
"Chuck, what are you doin'?
Listen to the officer!
Put your hands on the dash!"
So then the guy snaps out of it
and puts his hands on the dash.
What was he goin' for?
His fucking registration.
- You're kidding.
- No, man!
Stupid citizen doesn't know how close
he came to gettin' blown away.
That close, man.
You knew how to handle
that situation.
You shit your pants,
dive in and swim.
Tell me more about Cabot.
I don't know.
He's a cool guy.
He's funny.
He's a funny guy.
You remember
the Fantastic Four?
Yeah, with that invisible bitch...
and "Flame on"
and shit, right?
Thing.
Motherfucker...
Iooks just like the Thing.
Hey! Showtime!
Grab your jacket.
I'm parked outside.
I'll be right down.
He'll be right down.
Don't pussy out on me now.
They don't know.
They don't know shit.
You're not gonna get hurt.
You're fuckin' Baretta.
They believe every fuckin' word
'cause you're super cool.
There goes our boy.
The guy has to have rocks in his head
the size of Gibraltar...
to work undercover.
- You want one of these?
- Yeah, give me the bear claw.
I know what I'm talking about.
Black women ain't the same
as white women.
There's a slight difference.
Very funny.
You know what I mean.
What a white bitch will put up with,
a black bitch wouldn't for a minute.
If you cross their line,
they fuck you up.
I gotta go along with Pink
on that.
Okay, Mr. Expert,
if this is such a truism...
why is it that every nigger I know
treats his woman like a piece of shit?
I'll bet those same niggers
who show their ass in public...
when their bitches get 'em home
they chill the fuck out.
- Not these guys.
- Oh, yeah. Those guys too.
Tell you guys a story.
In one of Daddy's clubs there's
a black cocktail waitress named Elois.
- Elois?
- Yeah, Elois.
E and Lois.
We called her Lady E.
Where was she from?
Compton?
She's from Ladora Heights.
Ladora Heights.
The black Beverly Hills.
It's not
the black Beverly Hills.
It's the black Palos Verdes.
Anyway...
Lady E, she was a man-eater-upper.
Un-fuckin'-believable.
Every guy who ever saw her
had to jack off to her at least once.
You know who she looked like?
Christie Love.
Remember that TV show
Get Christie Love...
about the black female cop?
She always used to say,
"You're under arrest, sugar! "
- Who played Christie Love?
- Pam Grier.
No, it wasn't Pam Grier.
Pam Grier was the other one.
Pam Grier did the film.
Christie Love was like
a Pam Grier TV show without Pam Grier.
- So, who was Christie Love?
- How should I know?
Great. Now I'm totally
fuckin' tortured.
Whoever it was,
she looked exactly like Elois.
Anne Francis.
No. That was Honey West.
Anne Francis is white.
I'm tryin' to tell a story here.
She looked exactly like Elois.
We come into the club
one night...
and there's Carlos,
the bartender.
He's a wetback.
He's a friend of mine.
I says to him,
"Carlos, where's Lady E tonight?"
Apparently Lady E...
was married to real piece
of dog shit, a real animal.
He used to do things to her.
Like what?
What would he do?
Beat her up?
I don't know.
He just did things.
So anyway, one night
she plays it real cool.
She waits for him to get drunk.
He falls asleep
on the fuckin' couch.
She sneaks up on him,
puts some glue on his dick...
and glues his dick
to his belly.
Jesus Christ!
I'm serious, man.
I'm dead serious.
They had to call the paramedics
to cut the prick loose.
Was he all pissed off?
How would you feel if you had to do
a fuckin' handstand to take a piss?
You guys like to tell jokes
and giggle and kid around, huh?
Giggling like a bunch of girls
in the schoolyard.
Well, let me tell a joke.
Five guys
sittin' in a bullpen...
San Quentin...
wonderin' how the fuck
they got there.
"What did we do wrong?
What shouldn't we have done?
It's your fault, his fault--"
All that bullshit.
Finally somebody says...
"Wait a minute.
While we were
planning this caper...
we just sat around
tellin' fuckin' jokes."
Got the message?
I don't mean to holler at ya.
When this caper's over,
and I'm sure it'll be successful...
we'll go down to Hawaiian lslands,
I'll laugh with all of youse.
Find me a different character
down there.
Right now it's a matter
of business.
With the exception
of Eddie and myself...
who you already know...
we're gonna be using aliases
on this job.
Under no circumstances...
do we want any one of you
to relate to each other...
by your Christian names.
And I don't want any talk
about yourself personally.
That includes where you been,
your wife's name...
where you might've done time...
or a bank maybe you robbed
in St. Petersburg.
All I want you guys to talk about,
if you have to...
is what you're gonna do.
That should do it.
These are your names--
Mr. Brown, Mr. White...
Mr. Blonde, Mr. Blue...
Mr. Orange and Mr. Pink.
- Why am I Mr. Pink?
- Because you're a faggot! All right?
- Why can't we pick our own colors?
- No way.
No way. Tried it once.
It doesn't work.
You get four guys all fightin'
over who gets to be Mr. Black.
They don't know each other,
so nobody wants to back down.
No way. I pick.
You're Mr. Pink.
Be thankful
you're not Mr. Yellow.
But Mr. Brown,
that's too close to Mr. Shit.
Mr. Pink
sounds like Mr. Pussy.
How about Mr. Purple?
That's sounds good.
I'll be Mr. Purple.
You're not Mr. Purple.
Some guy on some other job
is Mr. Purple. You're Mr. Pink!
Who cares what your name is?
Easy for you to say. You're Mr. White.
You have a cool-sounding name.
If it's no big deal to be Mr. Pink,
you wanna trade?
Nobody's tradin' with anybody.
This ain't a goddamn fuckin'
city council meeting, you know.
Now listen up, Mr. Pink.
There's two ways you can go
on this job--
my way or the highway.
What's it gonna be, Mr. Pink?
Jesus Christ, Joe.
Fuckin' forget about it.
It's beneath me.
I'm Mr. Pink. Let's move on.
I'll move on
when I feel like it.
Do all you guys
got the goddamn message?
I'm so goddamn mad hollerin'
at you guys, I can hardly talk.
Let's go to work.
Let's go over it.
Where are you?
I stand outside and guard the door.
I don't let anybody go in or out.
- Mr. Brown.
- He waits in the car.
I give him the signal,
he pulls up in front.
Mr. Blonde and Mr. Blue.
Crowd control. They handle
the customers and the employees.
- That girl's ass.
- Sittin' right here on my dick.
Myself and Mr. Pink?
You two take the manager
and make him give you the diamonds.
We're there
for those stones, period.
Since no display cases are being
fucked with, no alarms should go off.
We're out in two minutes,
not one second longer.
What if the manager
won't give you the diamonds?
A store like this
is insured up the ass.
They're not supposed to give you
any resistance whatsoever.
If you get a customer or an employee
who thinks he's Charles Bronson...
smash their nose with your gun.
Drops him right to the floor.
Everyone jumps.
He falls down screaming,
blood squirts out of his nose.
Freaks everybody out.
Nobody says fuckin' shit after that.
Some bitch might
talk shit to you.
Give her a look like she's next.
Watch her shut the fuck up.
If it's the manager,
that's different.
The managers know not
to fuck around...
so if he's giving you static...
he probably thinks he's a real cowboy
so you gotta that bastard in two.
If he won't tell ya something,
cut off one of his fingers.
The little one.
Then tell him his thumb's next.
After that he'll tell you
if he wears ladies underwear.
I'm hungry.
Let's get a taco.
Fuck.
Jesus.
I'm blind, man.
I'm fuckin' blind.
No, you just got
blood in your eyes.
Is he dead?
Did he die or not?
Let's go.
Hold it! Get out!
Get out of the fuckin' car!
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, Larry.
I can't believe she killed me.
Who'd have fucking thought that?
Hey, just cancel that shit
right now.
You're hurt.
You're hurt real fuckin' bad.
But you ain't dying.
All this blood's scaring
the shit out of me, Larry.
I'm gonna die.
I know it.
What the fuck happened?
He slashed the cop's face, cut off
his ear and was gonna burn him alive.
What? I didn't hear you.
I said...
Blonde went crazy.
He slashed the cop's face, cut off
his ear and was gonna burn him alive.
This cop?
He went crazy?
Something like that?
Worse or better?
Eddie, he was
pulling a burn, man.
He was gonna kill
the cop and me.
When you guys walked in, he was gonna
kill you and run with the diamonds.
What'd I tell ya?
That sick piece of shit
was a stone-cold psycho.
You should've asked the cop,
not just killed him.
He talked about what he was gonna do
when he was slicing him up.
I don't buy it.
Doesn't make sense.
Makes perfect fuckin' sense
to me.
You didn't see how he acted
during the job. We did.
He's right.
The ear's hacked off.
Let me just say this out loud,
'cause I wanna get this straight.
You're saying that Mr. Blonde...
was gonna kill you...
and then when we got back
he was gonna kill us...
take the diamonds and scram.
I'm right about that, right?
That's your story?
I swear on my mother's soul...
that's what happened.
The man you killed
just got released from prison.
He got caught at a company warehouse
full of hot items.
He could've fuckin' walked.
All he had to do was say my dad's name,
but he didn't; he kept his mouth shut.
He did his fuckin' time
like a man.
He did four years for us.
So, Mr. Orange...
you're telling me
that this good friend of mine...
who did four years
for my father...
who, in four years, never made a deal,
no matter what they offered him...
you're telling me that
now that he's free...
and we're making good
on our commitment to him...
he's just gonna decide,
out of the fucking blue...
to rip us off?
Why don't you tell me
what really happened.
What the hell for?
It'd just be more bullshit.
This man set us up.
Dad, I'm sorry,
but I don't know what's happening.
- It's all right. I do.
- What are you talking about?
That lump of shit's workin'
with the L.A.P.D.
I don't have the slightest
fucking idea...
what you're talking about.
Joe, I don't know what you think
you know, but you're wrong.
Like hell I am.
Trust me on this.
You've made a mistake.
He's a good kid.
I understand
you're super-fuckin'-pissed.
We're all real emotional.
But you're barking up the wrong tree.
I know him. He wouldn't do that.
You don't know jack shit!
I do.
The cocksucker
tipped off the cops...
and got Mr. Brown
and Mr. Blue killed.
- Mr. Blue is dead?
- Dead as Dillinger.
How do you know all this?
He was the only one
I wasn't 100 percent on.
I should have my head examined,
going ahead when I wasn't 100 percent.
- That's your proof?
- With instinct, you don't need proof.
I ignored it before,
but no more.
Have you lost your fuckin' mind?
I'm not gonna let you make
a terrible mistake.
Come on, guys.
Nobody wants this.
We're supposed to be
fuckin' professionals.
Larry, look...
it's been quite a long time.
A lot of jobs.
There's no need for this, man.
Let's just put our guns down...
and let's settle this...
with a fucking conversation.
Joe, if you kill that man,
you die next.
Repeat: you kill him,
you die next.
Larry, we have been friends.
You respect my dad
and I respect you...
but I'll put bullets
in you.
You put that fuckin' gun
down now.
Goddamn you, Joe...
don't make me do this.
Larry, you stop pointin' that gun
at my dad!
I'm sorry, kid.
Looks like we're gonna...
do a little time.
I'm a cop.
Larry...
I'm sorry.
I'm...
so sorry.
I'm a cop.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm...
sorr--
Freeze!
Drop the fucking gun, buddy!
- Now!
- Put the gun down!
- Don't do it!
- Drop the gun, man!
- Drop the fucking gun!
- We're gonna blow you away!