Reservoir Dogs

MR. BLONDE: I asked you a question. Are you clear about that?

COP: Yes.

MR. BLONDE: Now I'm not gonna bullshit you. I don't really care about what you know or don't know. I'm gonna torture you for awhile regardless. Not to get information, but because torturing a cop amuses me. There's nothing you can say, I've heard it all before. There's nothing you can do. Except pray for a quick death, which you ain't gonna get.

MR. BLONDE: Alone at last.

MR. BLONDE: Now where were we?

COP: I told you I don't know anything about any fucking set up. I've only been on the force eight months, nobody tells me anything! I don't know anything! You can torture me if you want -

MR. BLONDE: Thanks, don't mind if I do.

COP: Your boss even said there wasn't a set up.

MR. BLONDE: First off, I don't have a boss. Are you clear about that?

VIC: I don't wanna lift crates.

EDDIE: You don't hafta lift shit. You don't really work there. But as far as the records are concerned, you do. I call up Matthews, the foreman, tell him he's got a new guy. You're on the schedule. You got a timecard, it's clocked in and out for you everyday, and you get a pay check at the end of the week. And ya know dock workers don't do too bad. So you can move into a halfway decent place without Scagnetti thinkin "what the fuck." And if Scagnetti ever wants to make a surprise visit, you're gone that day. That day we sent you to Tustin. We gotta bunch of shit you needed to unload there. You're at the Taft airstrip pickin' up a bunch of shit and bringing it back. Part of your job is goin' different places - and we got places all over the place.

VIC: Seymour Scagnetti.

EDDIE: Scagnetti? Oh shit, I hear he's a motherfucker.

VIC: He is a motherfucker. He won't let me leave the halfway house till I get some piece of shit job.

EDDIE: You're coming back to work for us, right?

VIC: I wanna. But I gotta show this asshole I got an honest-to-goodness job before he'll let me move out on my own. I can't work for you guys and be worried about gettin' back before ten o'clock curfew.

VIC: You fuckin' wish.

EDDIE: You tried to fuck me in my father's office, you sick bastard. Look, Vic, whatever you wanna do in the privacy of your own home, go do it. But don't try to fuck me. I don't think of you that way. I mean, I like you a lot -

VIC: Eddie, if I was a pirate, I wouldn't throw you to the crew.

EDDIE: No, you'd keep me for yourself. Four years fuckin' punks in the ass made you appreciate prime rib when you get it.

VIC: I might break you, Nice Guy, but I'd make you my dog's bitch. You'd be suckin' the dick and going down on a mangy T-bone hound.

EDDIE: Now ain't that a sad sight, daddy, walks into jail a white man, walks out talkin' like a nigger. It's all that black semen been shootin' up his butt. It's backed up into his brain and comes out of his mouth.

EDDIE: How ya doin', Toothpick?

VIC: Fine, now.

EDDIE: I'm sorry man, I shoulda picked you up personally at the pen. This whole week's just been crazy. I've had my head up my ass the entire time.

VIC: Funny you should mention it. That's what your father and I been talkin' about.

EDDIE: That I should've picked you up?

VIC: No. That your head's been up your ass. I walk through the door and Joe says "Vic, you're back, thank god. Finally somebody who knows what the fuck he's doing. Vic, Vic, Vic, Eddie, my son, is a fuck up." And I say "Well, Joe, I coulda told you that." "I'm ruined! He's ruining me! My son, I love him, but he's taking my business and flushing it down the fuckin' toilet! " I'm not tellin' tales out of school. You tell 'im Joe. Tell 'im yourself.

MR. WHITE: Joe, you're making a terrible mistake I can't let you make.

EDDIE: Stop pointing your fuckin' gun at daddy!

EDDIE: The motherfucker killed Vic.

MR. WHITE: How do you know all this?

EDDIE: I don't buy it. It doesn't make sense.

MR. WHITE: It makes perfect fuckin' sense to me. Eddie, you didn't see how he acted during the job, we did.

EDDIE: I don't know what he did to her, but she got even.

MR. WHITE: Was he all pissed off?

EDDIE: Let me tell you guys a story. In one of daddy's clubs there was this black cocktail waitress named Elois.

MR. WHITE: Elois?

EDDIE: Yeah, Elois. E and Lois. We called her Lady E.

MR. WHITE: Where was she from, Compton?

EDDIE: No. She was from Ladora Heights.

EDDIE: Jesus Christ, give me a fuckin' chance to breathe. I got a few questions of my own, ya know.

MR. WHITE: You ain't dying, he is.

EDDIE: I'll call somebody.

MR. WHITE: Who?

EDDIE: A snake charmer, what the fuck d'you think. I'll call a doctor, take care of him, fix 'm right up. No, where's Mr. Brown and Mr. Blue?

EDDIE: Holy shit, this guy's all fucked up!

MR. WHITE: No shit, he's gonna fuckin' die on us if we don't get him taken care of.

EDDIE: Daddy, I'm sorry, I don't know what's happening.

JOE: That's okay, Eddie, I do.

EDDIE: Nuts. We got a big meeting in Vegas coming up. And we're kinda just gettin ready for that right now.

JOE: Let Nice Guy set you up at Long Beach. Give ya some cash, get that Scagnetti fuck off your back, and we'll be talking to ya.

EDDIE: Daddy, I got an idea. Now just hear it out. I know you don't like to use any of the boys on these jobs, but technically, Vic ain't one of the boys. He's been gone for four years. He ain't on no one's list. Ya know he can handle himself, ya know you can trust him.

JOE: Didn't I tell ya not to worry? Vic was worried.

EDDIE: Me and you'll drive down to Long Beach tomorrow. I'll introduce you to Matthews, tell him what's going on.

JOE: We can work this out, can't we?

EDDIE: This isn't all that bad. We can give you a lot of legitimate jobs. Put you on the rotation at Long Beach as a dock worker.

JOE: Now Vic was tellin' me, he's got a parole problem.

EDDIE: Really? Who's your P.O.?

EDDIE: Daddy, did ya see that?

JOE: What?

EDDIE: Guy got me on the ground, tried to fuck me.

MR. PINK: He's right about the ear, it's hacked off.

EDDIE: Let me say this out loud, just to get it straight in my mind. According to you, Mr. Blonde was gonna kill you. Then when we came back, kill us, grab the diamonds, and scram. That's your story? I'm correct about that, right?

MR. PINK: The black Beverly Hills. I knew this lady from Ladora Heights once. "Hi, I'm from Ladora Heights, it's the black Beverly Hills."

EDDIE: It's not the black Beverly Hills, it's the black Palos Verdes. Anyway, this chick, Elois, was a man-eater- upper. I bet every guy who's ever met her has jacked off to her at least once. You know who she looked like? Christie Love. 'Member that TV show "Get Christie Love"? She was a black female cop. She always used to say "You're under arrest, sugar."

MR. PINK: I was in the sixth grade when that show was on. I totally dug it. What the fuck was the name of the chick who played Christie Love?

EDDIE: Pam Grier.

MR. PINK: No, it wasn't Pam Grier, Pam Grier was the other one. Pam Grier made the movies. Christie Love was like a Pam Grier TV show, without Pam Grier.

MR. PINK: What the fuck was that chick's name? Oh this is just great, I'm totally fuckin' tortured now.

EDDIE: Well, whoever she was, Elois looked like her. So one night I walk into the club, and no Elois. Now the bartender was a wetback, he was a friend of mine, his name was Carlos. So I asked him "Hey, Carlos, where's Lady E tonight?" Well apparently Lady E was married to this real piece of dog shit. I mean a real animal. And apparently he would so things to her.

MR. PINK: Go ahead and laugh, you know what I mean. What a while bitch will put up with, a black bitch won't put up with for a minute. They got a line, and if you cross it, they fuck you up.

EDDIE: I gotta go along with Mr. Pink on this. I've seen it happen.

EDDIE: What does it matter who stays with the cop? We ain't lettin' him go. Not after he's seen everybody. You should've never took him outta your trunk in the first place.

MR. PINK: We were trying to find out what he knew about the set up.

EDDIE: There is no fuckin' set up! Look, this is the news. Blondie, you stay here and take care of them two. White and Pink come with me, 'cuz if Joe gets here and sees all those fucking cars parked out front, he's going to be as mad at me as he is at you.

EDDIE: I take it this is the bastard you told me about. Why the hell are you beating on him?

MR. PINK: So he'll tell us who the fuck set us up.

EDDIE: Would you stop it with that shit! You beat on this prick enough, he'll tell ya he started the Chicago fire. That don't necessarily make it so. Okay, first things fucking last, where's the shit? Please tell me somebody brought something with them.

MR. PINK: I got a bag. I stashed it till I could be sure this place wasn't a police station.

EDDIE: Well, let's go get it. We also gotta get rid of all those cars. It looks like Sam's hot car lot outside. You stay here and babysit Orange and the cop. You two take a car each, I'll follow ya. You ditch it, I'll pick you up, then we'll pick up the stones. And while I'm following you, I'll arrange for some sort of a doctor for our friend.

MR. PINK: Brown's dead, we don't know about Blue.

EDDIE: Nobody saw what happened to Mr. Blue?

MR. PINK: We were set up, the cops were waiting for us.

EDDIE: What? Nobody set anybody up.

MR. PINK: The cops were there waitin' for us!

EDDIE: Bullshit.

MR. PINK: Hey, fuck you man, you weren't there, we were. And I'm tellin' ya, the cops had that store staked out.

EDDIE: Okay, Mr. Detective, who did it?

MR. PINK: What the fuck d'you think we've been askin' each other?

EDDIE: And what are your answers? Was it me? You think I set you up?

MR. PINK: I don't know, but somebody did.

EDDIE: Nobody did. You assholes turn the jewelry store into a wild west show, and you wonder why cops show up.

HOLDAWAY: Tell me more about Cabot.

FREDDY: He's a cool guy. A real nice, real funny, real cool guy.

FREDDY: What's this?

HOLDAWAY: It's a scene. Memorize it.

FREDDY: What?

HOLDAWAY: A undercover cop has got to be Marlon Brando. To do this job you got to be a great actor. You got to be naturalistic. You got to be naturalistic as hell. If you ain't a great actor you're a bad actor, and bad acting is bullshit in this job.

FREDDY: But what is this?

HOLDAWAY: It's a amusing anecdote about a drug deal.

FREDDY: What?

HOLDAWAY: Something funny that happened to you while you were doing a job.

FREDDY: I gotta memorize all this shit?

HOLDAWAY: It's like a joke. You remember what's important, and the rest you make your own. The only way to make it your own is to keep sayin' it, and sayin' it, and sayin' it, and sayin' it, and sayin' it.

FREDDY: I can do that.

HOLDAWAY: The things you gotta remember are the details. It's the details that sell your story. Now this story takes place in this men's room. So you gotta know the details about this men's room. You gotta know they got a blower instead of a towel to dry your hands. You gotta know the stalls ain't got no doors. You gotta know whether they got liquid or powdered soap, whether they got hot water or not, 'cause if you do your job when you tell your story, everybody should believe it. And if you tell your story to somebody who's actually taken a piss in this men's room, and you get one detail they remember right, they'll swear by you.

HOLDAWAY: Didja use the commode story?

FREDDY: Fuckin' A. I tell it real good, too.

HOLDAWAY: What kinds questions did Cabot ask?

FREDDY: Where I was from, who I knew, how I knew Nice Guy, had I done time, shit like that.

FREDDY: Nice Guy. When we got to the bar...

HOLDAWAY: ...What bar?

FREDDY: The Boots and Socks in Gardena. When we got there, I met Joe and a guy named Mr. White. It's a phony name. My name's Mr. Orange.

HOLDAWAY: You ever seen this motherfucker before?

FREDDY: Who, Mr. White?

HOLDAWAY: Yeah.

FREDDY: No, he ain't familiar. He ain't one of Cabot's soldiers either. He's gotta be from outta town. But Joe knows him real well.

HOLDAWAY: How can you tell?

FREDDY: The way they talk to each other. You can tell they're buddies.

HOLDAWAY: Did the two of you talk?

FREDDY: Me and Mr. White?

HOLDAWAY: Yeah.

FREDDY: A little.

HOLDAWAY: What about?

FREDDY: The Brewers.

HOLDAWAY: The Milwaukee Brewers?

FREDDY: Yeah. They had just won the night before, and he made a killing off 'em.

HOLDAWAY: Well, if this crook's a Brewers fan, his ass has gotta be from Wisconsin. And I'll bet you everything from a diddle-eyed Joe to a damned-if-I- know, that in Milwaukee they got a sheet on this Mr. White motherfucker's ass. I want you to go through the mugs of guys from old Milwaukee with a history of armed robbery, and put a name to that face.

FREDDY: Say "hello" to a motherfucker who's inside. Cabot's doing a job and take a big fat guess who he wants on the team?

HOLDAWAY: This better not be some Freddy joke.

MR. WHITE: Just hold on buddy boy.

FREDDY: I'm sorry. I can't believe she killed me...

FREDDY: I'm sorry.

MR. WHITE: What? Snap out of it!

MR. WHITE: Myself and Mr. Pink?

FREDDY: You two take the manager in the back 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 of there in two minutes, not one second longer. What if the manager won't give up the diamonds?

MR. WHITE: When you're dealing with a store like this, they're insured up the ass. They're not supposed to give you and resistance whatsoever. If you get a customer or an employee who thinks he's Charles Bronson, take the butt of your gun and smash their nose in. Drops 'em right to the floor. Everyone jumps, he falls down, screaming, blood squirts out his nose. Freaks everybody out. Nobody says fuckin' shit after that. You might get some bitch talk shit to ya. But give her a look, like you're gonna smash her in the face next. Watch her shut the fuck up. Now if it's a manager, that's a different story. The managers know better than to fuck around. So if one's givin' you static, he probably thinks he's a real cowboy. So what you gotta do is break that son-of-a-bitch in two. If you wanna know something and he won't tell you, cut off one of his fingers. The little one. Then you tell 'im his thumb's next. After that he'll tell ya if he wears ladies underwear. I'm hungry, let's get a taco.

MR. WHITE: Let's go over it. Where are you?

FREDDY: I stand outside and guard the door. I don't let anybody come in or go out.

MR. WHITE: Mr. Brown?

FREDDY: Mr. Brown stays in the car. He's parked across the street till I give him the signal, then he pulls up in front of the store.

MR. WHITE: Mr. Blonde and Mr. Blue?

FREDDY: Crowd control. They handle customers and employees in the display area.

MR. WHITE: Jesus Christ!

FREDDY: You can do some crazy things with it.

FREDDY: ...Her brother usually goes with her, but he's in county unexpectedly.

MR. WHITE: What for?

FREDDY: Traffic tickets gone to warrant. They stopped him for something, found the warrants on 'im, took 'im to jail. She doesn't want to walk around alone with all that weed. Well, I don't wanna do this, I have a bad feeling about it, but she keeps askin' me, keeps askin' me, finally I said okay 'cause I'm sick of listening to it. Well, we're picking this guy up at the train station.

VIC: That's great, guy, thanks a bunch. When do you think you'll need me for real work?

JOE: Well, it's kinda a strange time right now. Things are kinda -

VIC: I just want you to know, Joe, how much I appreciate your care packages on the inside.

JOE: What the hell did you expect me to do? Just forget about you?

VIC: I just wanted you to know, they meant a lot.

JOE: It's the least I could do Vic. I wish I coulda done more. Vic. Toothpick Vic. Tell me a story? What're your plans?

VIC: Well, what I wanna do is go back to work. But I got this Scagnetti prick deep up my ass. He won't let me leave the halfway house till I get some piece of shit job. My plans have always been to be part of the team again.

JOE: Who's your parole officer?

VIC: A guy named Scagnetti. Seymour Scagnetti.

JOE: How is he?

VIC: Fuckin' asshole, won't let me leave the halfway house.

JOE: Never ceases to amaze me. Fuckin' jungle bunny goes out there, slits some old woman's throat for twenty- five cents. Fuckin' nigger gets Doris Day as a parole officer. But a good fella like you gets stuck with a ball-bustin' prick.

JOE: How's freedom kid, pretty fuckin' good, ain't it?

VIC: It's a change.

JOE: Ain't that a sad truth. Remy Martin?

VIC: Sure.

JOE: Take a seat.

JOE: Wong?

MR. BROWN: Fuck you, wrong. I'm right! What the fuck do you know about it anyway? You're still listening to Jerry- fucking-Vale.

JOE: Not wrong, dumb ass, Wong! You know, like the Chinese name?

MR. BROWN: Then one day she meets a John Holmes motherfucker, and it's like, whoa baby. This mother fucker's like Charles Bronson in "The Great Escape." He's diggin' tunnels. Now she's gettin' this serious dick action, she's feelin' something she ain't felt since forever. Pain.

JOE: Chew? Toby Chew? No.

MR. BROWN: It hurts. It hurts her. It shouldn't hurt. Her pussy should be Bubble-Yum by now. But when this cat fucks her, it hurts. It hurts like the first time. The pain is reminding a fuck machine what is was like to be a virgin. Hence, "Like a Virgin."

MR. BROWN: Hey, fuck all that, I'm making a point here. You're gonna make me lose my train of thought.

JOE: Oh fuck, Toby's that little china girl.

JOE: Toby... who the fuck is Toby? Toby... Toby... think... think... think...

MR. BROWN: It's not about a nice girl who meets a sensitive boy. Now granted that's what "True Blue" is about, no argument about that.

MR. PINK: Mr. Blue's dead?

JOE: Dead as Dillinger.

JOE: Nobody's trading with anybody! Look, this ain't a goddamn fuckin' city counsel meeting! Listen up Mr. Pink. We got two ways here, my way or the highway. And you can go down either of 'em. So what's it gonna be, Mr. Pink?

MR. PINK: Jesus Christ, Joe. Fuckin' forget it. This is beneath me. I'm Mr. Pink, let's move on.

MR. PINK: Yeah, Mr. Pink sounds like Mr. Pussy. Tell you what, let me be Mr. Purple. That sounds good to me, I'm Mr. Purple.

JOE: You're not Mr. Purple, somebody from another job's Mr. Purple. You're Mr. Pink.

MR. PINK: Why can't we pick out our own colors?

JOE: I tried that once, it don't work. You get four guys fighting over who's gonna be Mr. Black. Since nobody knows anybody else, nobody wants to back down. So forget it, I pick. Be thankful you're not Mr. Yellow.

JOE: But he's OK. If he wasn't OK, he wouldn't be here. Okay, let me introduce everybody to everybody. But once again, at the risk of being redundant, if I even think I hear somebody telling or referring to somebody by their Christian name... ...you won't want to be you. Okay, quickly. Mr. Brown, Mr. White, Mr. Blonde, Mr. Blue, Mr. Orange, and Mr. Pink.

MR. PINK: Why am I Mr. Pink?

JOE: Cause you're a faggot, alright?

MR. PINK: Because you paid for the breakfast, I'm gonna tip. Normally I wouldn't.

JOE: Whatever. Just throw in your dollar, and let's move. See what I'm dealing with here. Infants. I'm fuckin' dealin' with infants.

JOE: Larry, I'm gonna kill him.

MR. WHITE: Goddamn you, Joe, don't make me do this!

JOE: Larry, I'm askin' you to trust me on this.

MR. WHITE: Don't ask me that.

JOE: I'm not askin', I'm betting.

JOE: Don't worry, Eddie. Me and Larry have been friends a long time, he ain't gonna shoot. We like each other too much.

MR. WHITE: Joe, if you kill that man, you die next. Repeat, if you kill that man, you die next!

JOE: He was the only one I wasn't a hundred percent on. I should have my fucking head examined for goin' forward when I wasn't a hundred percent. But he seemed like a good kid, and I was impatient and greedy and all the things that fuck you up.

MR. WHITE: That's your proof?

JOE: You don't need proof when you got instinct. I ignored it before, but not no more.

MR. WHITE: Joe, I don't know what you think you know, but you're wrong.

JOE: Like hell I am.

MR. WHITE: Joe, trust me on this, you've made a mistake. He's a good kid. I understand you're hot, you're super-fuckin' pissed. We're all real emotional. But you're barking up the wrong tree. I know this man, and he wouldn't do that.

JOE: You don't know jack shit. I do. This rotten bastard tipped off the cops and got Mr. Brown and Mr. Blue killed.

MR. WHITE: What the fuck are you talking about?

JOE: That piece of shit. Workin' with the cops.

MR. WHITE: What's the cut, poppa?

JOE: Juicy, junior, real juicy.

JOE: What's she doin' now?

MR. WHITE: She hooked up with Fed McGar, they've done a couple a jobs together. Good little thief. So, explain the telegram.

JOE: Five-man job. Bustin' in and bustin' out of a diamond wholesaler's.

MR. WHITE: Can you move the ice afterwards? I don't know nobody who can move ice.

JOE: Not a problem, got guys waitin' for it. But what happened to Marsellus Spivey? Didn't he always move your ice?

MR. WHITE: He's doin' twenty years in Susanville.

JOE: What for?

MR. WHITE: Bad luck. What's the exposure like?

JOE: Two minutes, tops. It's a tough two minutes. It's daylight, during business hours, dealing with a crowd. But you'll have the guys to deal with the crowd.

MR. WHITE: How many employees?

JOE: Around twenty. Security pretty lax. They almost always just deal in boxes. Rough uncut stones they get from the syndicate. On a certain day this wholesaler's gettin' a big shipment of polished stones from Israel. They're like a way station. They are gonna get picked up the next day and sent to Vermont.

MR. WHITE: No, they're not.

JOE: I'll take care of this, you guys leave the tip. And when I come back, I want my book back.

MR. WHITE: Sorry, it's my book now.

JOE: Blonde, shoot this piece of shit, will ya?

JOE: No, she did it. She killed the cheatin' wife, too.

MR. WHITE: Who gives a damn?

MR. WHITE: Give me this fucking thing.

JOE: What the fuck do you think you're doin'? Give me my book back!

MR. WHITE: I'm sick of fuckin' hearin' it Joe; I'll give it back when we leave.

JOE: Whaddaya mean, give it to me when we leave, give it back now.

MR. WHITE: For the past fifteen minutes now, you've just been droning on with names. "Toby... Toby... Toby... Toby Wong... Toby Wong... Toby Chung... fuckin' Charlie Chan." I got Madonna's big dick outta my right ear, and Toby Jap I-don't-know-what, outta my left.

JOE: What do you care?

MR. WHITE: When you're annoying as hell, I care a lot.

JOE: Give me my book.

MR. WHITE: You gonna put it away?

JOE: I'm gonna do whatever I wanna do with it.

MR. WHITE: Well, then, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to keep it.

MR. WHITE: What's that?

JOE: I found this old address book in a jacket I ain't worn in a coon's age. Toby what? What the fuck was her last name?

JOE: Aren't you?

MR. ORANGE: I don't have the slightest fuckin' idea what you're talkin' about.

JOE: Okay ramblers, let's get to rambling. Wait a minute, who didn't throw in?

MR. ORANGE: Mr. Pink.

JOE: Mr. Pink? Why?

MR. ORANGE: He don't tip.

JOE: He don't tip? You don't tip? Why?

MR. ORANGE: He don't believe in it.

JOE: He don't believe in it? You don't believe in it?

MR. ORANGE: Nope.

JOE: Shut up! Cough up the buck, ya cheap bastard, I paid for your goddamn breakfast.

MARVIN: That fucking bastard! That fucking sick fucking bastard!

MR. ORANGE: Marvin, I need you to hold on. There's officers positioned and waiting to move in a block away.

MARVIN: What the fuck are they waiting for? That motherfucker cut off my ear! He slashed my face! I'm deformed!

MR. ORANGE: And I'm dying. They don't know that. All they know is they're not to make a move until Joe Cabot shows up. I was sent undercover to get Cabot. 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 until Joe Cabot sticks his fuckin' head through that door.

MARVIN: I know.

MR. ORANGE: You do?

MARVIN: Your name's Freddy something.

MR. ORANGE: Freddy Newendyke.

MARVIN: Frankie Ferchetti introduced us once, about five months ago.

MR. ORANGE: Shit. I don't remember that at all.

MARVIN: I do. How do I look?

MR. BLONDE: I told 'em not to touch the alarm. They touched it. I blew 'em full of holes. If they hadn't done what I told 'em not it, they'd still be alive.

MR. WHITE: That's your excuse for going on a kill crazy rampage?

MR. BLONDE: I don't like alarms.

MR. WHITE: Because this guy's a fucking psycho. And if you think Joe's pissed at us, that ain't nothing compared to how pissed off I am at him, for puttin' me in the same room as this bastard.

MR. BLONDE: You see what I been puttin' up with? As soon as I walk through the door I'm hit with this shit. I tell 'm what you told me about us stayin' put and Mr. White whips out his gun, sticks it in my face, and starts screaming "You motherfucker, I'm gonna blow you away, blah, blah, blah."

MR. WHITE: He's the reason the place turned into a shooting gallery. What are you, a silent partner? Fuckin' tell him.

MR. WHITE: You talked to Nice Guy Eddie? Why the fuck didn't you say that in the first place?

MR. BLONDE: You didn't ask.

MR. WHITE: Hardy-fuckin-har. What did he say?

MR. BLONDE: Stay put. Okay, fellas, take a look at the little surprise I brought you.

MR. WHITE: For what, the cops?

MR. BLONDE: Nice Guy Eddie.

MR. WHITE: Follow you where?

MR. BLONDE: Down to my car.

MR. WHITE: Why?

MR. BLONDE: It's a surprise.

MR. BLONDE: What's this guy's problem?

MR. WHITE: What's my problem? Yeah, I gotta problem. I gotta big problem with any trigger-happy madman who almost gets me shot!

MR. BLONDE: What're you talkin' about?

MR. WHITE: That fuckin' shooting spree in the store.

MR. BLONDE: Fuck 'em, they set off the alarm, they deserve what they got.

MR. WHITE: You almost killed me, asshole! If I had any idea what type of guy you were, I never would've agreed to work with you.

MR. BLONDE: You gonna bark all day, little doggie, or are you gonna bite?

MR. WHITE: What was that? I'm sorry, I didn't catch it. Would you repeat it?

MR. BLONDE: I said: "Are you gonna bark all day, dog, or are you gonna bite."

MR. BLONDE: So, talk.

MR. WHITE: We think we got a rat in the house.

MR. BLONDE: Joe, you want me to shoot him for you?

MR. WHITE: Shit, you shoot me in a dream, you better wake up and apologize.

MR. WHITE: Uhuh, uhuh, what's I tell ya? That sick piece of shit was a stone cold psycho.

MR. ORANGE: You could've asked the cop, if you didn't just kill him. He talked about what he was going to do when he was slicing him up.

MR. WHITE: What happened?

MR. ORANGE: Blonde went crazy. He slashed the cop's face, cut off his ear and was gonna burn him alive.

MR. ORANGE: Look, I don't wanna be a fly in the ointment, but if help doesn't come soon, I gotta see a doctor. I don't give a fuck about jail, I just don't wanna die.

MR. WHITE: You're not gonna fucking die, all right?

MR. ORANGE: I wasn't born yesterday. I'm hurt, and I'm hurt bad.

MR. WHITE: It's not good...

MR. ORANGE: Hey, bless your heart for what you're trying to do. I was panicking for a moment, but I've got my senses back now. The situation is, I'm shot in the belly. And without medical attention, I'm gonna die.

MR. WHITE: I can' take you to a hospital.

MR. ORANGE: Fuck jail! I don't give a shit about jail. But I can't die. You don't have to take me in. Just drive me up to the front, drop me on the sidewalk. I'll take care of myself. I won't tell them anything. I swear to fucking god, I won't tell 'em anything. Look in my eyes, look right in my eyes. I-won't-tell-them-anything. You'll be safe.

MR. WHITE: Lie back down, and try to -

MR. ORANGE: I'm going to die! I need a doctor! I'm begging you, take me to a doctor.

MR. WHITE: I ain't going anywhere. I'm right here. I'm not gonna leave ya.

MR. ORANGE: Larry, I'm so scared, would you please hold me.

MR. WHITE: Just hold on buddy boy. Hold on, and wait for Joe. I can't do anything for you, but when Joe gets here, which should be anytime now, he'll be able to help you. We're just gonna sit here, and wait for Joe. Who are we waiting for?

MR. ORANGE: Joe.

MR. WHITE: Bet your sweet ass we are.

MR. WHITE: Say-the-goddamn-words: You're gonna be okay!

MR. ORANGE: I'm okay.

MR. WHITE: Correct.

MR. WHITE: Hey, just cancel that shit right now! You're hurt. You're hurt really fucking bad, but you ain't dying.

MR. ORANGE: All this blood is scaring the shit outta me. I'm gonna die, I know it.

MR. WHITE: Oh 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?

MR. ORANGE: No, I'm not!

MR. PINK: These ladies aren't starvin' to death. They make minimum wage. When I worked for minimum wage, I wasn't lucky enough to have a job that society deemed tipworthy.

NICE GUY EDDIE: Ahh, now we're getting down to it. It's not just that he's a cheap bastard -

NICE GUY EDDIE: I'd go over twelve percent for that.

MR. PINK: Look, I ordered coffee. Now we've been here a long fuckin' time, and she's only filled my cup three times. When I order coffee, I want it filled six times.

NICE GUY EDDIE: I don't even know a Jew who'd have the balls to say that. So let's get this straight. You never ever tip?

MR. PINK: I don't tip because society says I gotta. I tip when somebody deserves a tip. When somebody really puts forth an effort, they deserve a little something extra. But this tipping automatically, that shit's for the birds. As far as I'm concerned, they're just doin' their job.

NICE GUY EDDIE: C'mon, throw in a buck.

MR. PINK: Uh-uh. I don't tip.

NICE GUY EDDIE: Whaddaya mean you don't tip?

MR. PINK: I don't believe in it.

NICE GUY EDDIE: You don't believe in tipping?

NICE GUY EDDIE: Have you guys been listening to K- BILLY's super sounds of the seventies weekend?

MR. PINK: Yeah, it's fuckin' great isn't it?

NICE GUY EDDIE: Can you believe the songs they been playin'?

MR. PINK: No, I can't. You know what I heard the other day? "Heartbeat-It's Lovebeat," by little Tony DeFranco and the DeFranco Family. I haven't heard that since I was in fifth fuckin' grade.

NICE GUY EDDIE: When I was coming down here, I was playin' it. And "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia" came on. Now I ain't heard that song since it was big, but when it was big, I heard it a million-trillion times. I'm listening to it this morning, and this was the first time I ever realized that the lady singing the song, was the one who killed Andy.

MR. WHITE: Who cares what your name is? Who cares if you're Mr. Pink, Mr. Purple, Mr. Pussy, Mr. Piss...

MR. PINK: Oh that's really easy for you to say, you're Mr. White. You gotta cool-sounding name. So tell me, Mr. White, if you think "Mr. Pink" is no big deal, you wanna trade?

MR. WHITE: Okay, Mr. Expert. If this is such a truism, how come every nigger I know treats his woman like a piece of shit?

MR. PINK: I'll make you a bet that those same damn niggers who were showin' their ass in public, when their bitches get 'em home, they chill the fuck out.

MR. WHITE: Not these guys.

MR. PINK: Yeah, those guys too.

MR. PINK: ...Hey, I know what I'm talkin' about, black women ain't the same as white women.

MR. WHITE: There's a slight difference.

MR. PINK: He seems all right now, but he went crazy in the store.

MR. WHITE: This is what he was doin'.

MR. PINK: I told ya he'd be pissed.

MR. WHITE: What are you gonna do about him?

MR. PINK: Both of you two assholes knock it the fuck off and calm down!

MR. WHITE: So you wanna git bit, huh?

MR. PINK: Cut the bullshit, we ain't on a fuckin' playground! I don't believe this shit, both of you got ten years on me, and I'm the only one actin like a professional. You guys act like a bunch of fuckin' niggers. You ever work a job with a bunch of niggers? They're just like you two, always fightin', always sayin' they're gonna kill one another.

MR. WHITE: You said yourself, you thought about takin' him out.

MR. PINK: Then. That time has passed. Right now, Mr. Blonde is the only one I completely trust. He's too fuckin' homicidal to be workin' with the cops.

MR. WHITE: You takin' his side?

MR. PINK: Fuck sides! What we need is a little solidarity here. Somebody's stickin' a red hot poker up our asses and we gotta find out whose hand's on the handle. Now I know I'm no piece of shit... And I'm pretty sure you're a good boy... And I'm fuckin positive you're on the level. So let's figure out who's the bad guy.

MR. WHITE: Is that supposed to be funny?

MR. PINK: We don't think this place is safe.

MR. WHITE: This place just ain't secure anymore. We're leaving, and you should go with us.

MR. PINK: He got it in the belly. He's still alive, but won't be for long.

MR. WHITE: Enough! You better start talkin' to us, 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.

MR. WHITE: You wanna shoot me, you little piece of shit? Take a shot!

MR. PINK: Fuck you, White! I didn't create this situation, I'm just dealin' with it. You're acting like a first- year fuckin' thief. I'm actin like a professional. They get him, they can get you, they get you, they get closer to me, and that can't happen. And you, you motherfucker, are looking at me like it's my fault. I didn't tell him my name. I didn't tell him where I was from. I didn't tell him what I knew better than to tell him. Fuck, fifteen minutes ago, you almost told me your name. You, buddy, are stuck in a situation you created. So if you wanna throw bad looks somewhere, throw 'em at a mirror.

MR. PINK: We ain't taking him to a hospital.

MR. WHITE: If we don't, he'll die.

MR. PINK: And I'm very sad about that. But some fellas are lucky, and some ain't.

MR. WHITE: That fuckin did it!

MR. WHITE: We had just gotten away from the cops. He just got shot. It was my fuckin' fault he got shot. He's a fuckin' bloody mess - he's screaming. I swear to god, I thought we was gonna die right then and there. I'm tryin' to comfort him, telling him not to worry, he's gonna 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 tell him, "Sorry, I can't give out that information, it's against the rules. I don't trust you enough."? Maybe I shoulda, but I couldn't.

MR. PINK: Oh, I don't doubt is was quite beautiful -

MR. WHITE: Don't fuckin' patronize me.

MR. PINK: One question: Do they have a sheet on you, where you told him you're from?

MR. WHITE: Of course.

MR. PINK: Well that's that, then. I mean, I was worried about mug shot possibilities already. But now he knows: what you look like, what your first name is, where you're from and what your specialty is. They ain't gonna hafta show him a helluva lot of pictures for him to pick you out. That's it right, you didn't tell him anything else that could narrow down the selection?

MR. WHITE: If I have to tell you again to back off, me an you are gonna go round and round.

MR. PINK: Why!

MR. WHITE: I told him where I was from a few days ago. It was just a casual conversation.

MR. PINK: And what was tellin him your name when you weren't supposed to?

MR. WHITE: He asked.

MR. PINK: Assuming we can trust Joe, how we gonna get in touch with him? He's supposed to be here, but he ain't, which is making me nervous about being here. Even if Joe is on the up and up, he's probably not gonna be that happy with us. Joe planned a robbery, but he's got a blood bath on his hands now. Dead cops, dead robbers, dead civilians... Jesus Christ! I tend to doubt he's gonna have a lot of sympathy for our plight. If I was him, I'd try and put as much distance between me and this mess an humanly possible.

MR. WHITE: Before you got here, Mr. Orange was askin' me to take him to a hospital. Now I don't like turning him over to the cops, but if we don't, he's dead. He begged me to do it. I told him to hold off till Joe got here.

MR. PINK: Well Joe ain't gettin' here. We're on our own. Now, I don't know a goddamn body who can help him, so if you know somebody, call 'em.

MR. WHITE: I don't know anybody.

MR. PINK: Well, I guess we drop him off at the hospital. Since he don't know nothin' about us, I say it's his decision.

MR. WHITE: Well, he knows a little about me.

MR. PINK: You didn't tell him your name, did ya?

MR. WHITE: I told him my first name, and where I'm from.

MR. WHITE: He will be dead fer sure, if we don't get him to a hospital.

MR. PINK: We can't take him to a hospital.

MR. WHITE: Without medical attention, this man won't live through the night. That bullet in his belly is my fault. Now while that might not mean jack shit to you, it means a helluva lot to me. And I'm not gonna just sit around and watch him die.

MR. PINK: Well, first things first, staying here's goofy. We gotta book up.

MR. WHITE: So what do you suggest, we go to a hotel? We got a guy who's shot in the belly, he can't walk, he bleeds like a stuck pig, and when he's awake, he screams in pain.

MR. PINK: You gotta idea, spit it out.

MR. WHITE: Joe could help him. If we can get in touch with Joe, Joe could get him to a doctor, Joe could get a doctor to come and see him.

MR. PINK: So, is he dead or what?

MR. WHITE: He ain't dead.

MR. PINK: So what is it?

MR. WHITE: I think he's just passed out.

MR. PINK: He scared the fuckin' shit outta me. I thought he was dead fer sure.

MR. PINK: I gotta take a squirt, where's the commode in this dungeon?

MR. WHITE: Go down the hall, turn left, up those stairs, then turn right.

MR. PINK: Tagged a couple of cops. Did you kill anybody?

MR. WHITE: A few cops.

MR. PINK: No real people?

MR. WHITE: Uh-uh, just cops.

MR. PINK: Could you believe Mr. Blonde?

MR. WHITE: That was one of the most insane fucking things I've ever seen. Why the fuck would Joe hire somebody like that?

MR. PINK: I don't wanna kill anybody. But if I gotta get out that door, and you're standing in my way, one way of the other, you're gettin' outta my way.

MR. WHITE: That's the way I look at it. A 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. That motherfucker's unstable. What do you think? Do you think he panicked, or ya think he's just trigger-happy?

MR. PINK: I think he's a sick fuckin' maniac! We're awful goddamn lucky he didn't tag us, when he shot up the place. I came this fucking close - to taking his ass out myself. Everybody panics. When things get tense, everybody panics. Everybody. I don't care what your name is, you can't help it. It's human nature. But ya panic on the inside. Ya panic in your head. Ya give yourself a couple a seconds of panic, then you get a grip and deal with the situation. What you don't do, is shoot up the place and kill everybody.

MR. WHITE: What you're supposed to do is act like a fuckin' professional. A psychopath is not a professional. You can't work with a psychopath, 'cause ya 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 twenty-one?

MR. PINK: Did ya see what happened to anybody else?

MR. WHITE: Me and Mr. Orange jumped in the car and Mr. Brown floored it. After that, I don't know what went down.

MR. PINK: At that point it became every man for himself. As far as Mr. Blonde or Mr. Blue are concerned, I ain't got the foggiest. Once I got out, I never looked back.

MR. WHITE: What do you think?

MR. PINK: What do I think? I think the cops caught them, or killed 'em.

MR. WHITE: Not even a chance they punched through? You found a hole.

MR. PINK: Yeah, and that was a fucking miracle. But if they did get away, where the fuck are they?

MR. WHITE: You don't think it's possible, one of them got a hold of the diamonds and pulled a -

MR. PINK: Nope.

MR. WHITE: How can you be so sure?

MR. PINK: I got the diamonds.

MR. WHITE: Where?

MR. PINK: I got 'em, all right?

MR. WHITE: Where? Are they out in the car?

MR. PINK: No, they're not in the car. No, I don't have them on me. Ya wanna go with me and get 'em? Yes, we can go right now. But first listen to what I'm telling you. We were fuckin' set up! Somebody is in league with the cops. We got a Judas in our midst. And I'm thinkin' we should have our fuckin' heads examined for waiting around here.

MR. WHITE: That was the plan, we meet here.

MR. PINK: Then where is everybody? I say the plan became null and void once we found out we got a rat in the house. We ain't got the slightest fuckin' idea what happened to Mr. Blonde or Mr. Blue. They could both be dead or arrested. They could be sweatin' 'em, down at the station house right now. Yeah they don't know the names, but they can sing about this place. I mean, that could be happening right now. As we speak, the cops could be in their cars, drivin' here this minute.

MR. WHITE: I swear to god I'm fuckin' jinxed.

MR. PINK: What?

MR. WHITE: Two jobs back, it was a four man job, we discovered one of the team was an undercover cop.

MR. PINK: No shit?

MR. WHITE: Thank god, we discovered in time. We hadda forget the whole fuckin' thing. Just walked away from it.

MR. PINK: So who's the rat this time? Mr. Blue? Mr. Blonde? Joe? It's Joe's show, he set this whole thing up. Maybe he set it up to set it up.

MR. WHITE: I don't buy it. Me and Joe go back a long time. I can tell ya straight up, Joe definitely didn't have anything to do with this bullshit.

MR. PINK: Oh, you and Joe go back a long time. I known Joe since I was a kid. But me saying Joe definitely couldn't have done it is ridiculous. I can say I definitely didn't do it, cause I know what I did or didn't do. But I can't definitely say that about anybody else, 'cause I don't definitely know. For all I know, you're the rat.

MR. WHITE: For all I know, you're the rat.

MR. PINK: Now you're using your head. For all we know, he's the rat.

MR. WHITE: That kid in there is dying from a fuckin' bullet that I saw him take. So don't be calling him a rat.

MR. PINK: Look, asshole, I'm right! Somebody's a fuckin' rat. How many times do I hafta say it before it sinks in your skull?

MR. WHITE: 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 blink my eyes are they're there. Everybody starts going apeshit. Then Mr. Blonde starts shootin' all the -

MR. PINK: That's not correct.

MR. WHITE: What's wrong with it?

MR. PINK: The cops didn't show up after the alarm went off. They didn't show till after Mr. Blonde started shooting everyone.

MR. WHITE: As soon as I heard the alarm, I saw the cops.

MR. PINK: I'm telling ya, it wasn't that soon. They didn't let their presence be known until after Mr. Blonde went off. I'm not sayin' they weren't there, I'm sayin' they were there. But they didn't move in till Mr. Blonde became a madman. That's how I know we were set up. You can see that, can't you, Mr. White?

MR. WHITE: Look, enough of this "Mr White" shit -

MR. PINK: Don't tell me your name, I don't want to know! I sure as hell ain't gonna tell ya mine.

MR. WHITE: You're right, this is bad. How did you get out?

MR. PINK: Shot my way out. Everybody was shooting, so I just blasted my way outta there.

MR. WHITE: Want a smoke?

MR. PINK: Why not?

MR. PINK: What the fuck am I doing here? I felt funny about this job right off. As soon as I felt it I should said "No thank you", and walked. But I never fucking listen. Every time I ever got burned buying weed, I always knew the guy wasn't right. I just felt it. But I wanted to believe him. If he's not lyin' to me, and it really is Thai stick, then whoa baby. But it's never Thai stick. And I always said if I felt that way about a job, I'd walk. And I did, and I didn't, because of fuckin' money!

MR. WHITE: What's done is done, I need you cool. Are you cool?

MR. PINK: I'm cool.

MR. WHITE: Splash some water on your face. Take a breather.

MR. WHITE: Gun shot.

MR. PINK: Oh that's just fucking great! Where's Brown?

MR. WHITE: Dead.

MR. PINK: Goddamn, goddamn! How did he die?

MR. WHITE: How the fuck do you think? The cops shot him.

MR. PINK: Oh this is bad, this is so bad. Is it bad?

MR. WHITE: As opposed to good?

MR. PINK: This is so fucked up. Somebody fucked us big time.

MR. WHITE: You really think we were set up?

MR. PINK: You even doubt it? I don't think we got set up, I know we got set up! I mean really, seriously, where did all those cops come from, huh? One minute they're not there, the next minute they're there. I didn't hear any sirens. The alarm went off, okay. Okay, when an alarm goes off, you got an average of four minutes response time. Unless a patrol car is cruising that street, at that particular moment, you got four minutes before they can realistically respond. In one minute there were seventeen blue boys out there. All loaded for bear, all knowing exactly what the fuck they were doing, and they were all just there! Remember that second wave that showed up in the cars? Those were the ones responding to the alarm. But those other motherfuckers were already there, they were waiting for us. You haven't thought about this?

MR. WHITE: I haven't had a chance to think. First I was just trying to get the fuck outta there. And after we got away, I've just been dealin' with him.

MR. PINK: Well, you better start thinking about it. Cause I, sure as fuck, am thinking about it. In fact, that's all I'm thinking about. I came this close to just driving off. Whoever set us up, knows about this place. There could've been cops sitting here waiting for me. For all we know, there's cops, driving fast, on their way here now.

MR. WHITE: Let's go in the other room...

MR. WHITE: 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 tips.

MR. PINK: Fuck all that.

MR. PINK: Do you know what this is? It's the world's smallest violin, playing just for the waitresses.

MR. WHITE: You don't have any idea what you're talking about. These people bust their ass. This is a hard job.

MR. PINK: So's working at McDonald's, but you don't feel the need to tip them. They're servin' ya food, you should tip em. But no, society says tip these guys over here, but not those guys over there. That's bullshit.