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Reservoir Dogs
Quentin Tarantino





MR. BROWN: "Like a Virgin" is all about a girl who digs a guy with a big dick. The whole song is a metaphor for big dicks.

MR. BLUE: No it's not. It's about a girl who is very vulnerable and she's been fucked over a few times. Then she meets some guy who's really sensitive--

MR. BROWN: --Whoa... whoa... time out Greenbay. Tell that bullshit to the tourists. 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. ORANGE: Which one is "True Blue?"

NICE GUY EDDIE: You don't remember "True Blue?" That was a big ass hit for Madonna. Shit, I don't even follow this Tops In Pops shit, and I've at least heard of "True Blue."

MR. ORANGE: Look, asshole, I didn't say I ain't heard of it. All I asked was how does it go? Excuse me for not being the world's biggest Madonna fan.

MR. BROWN: I hate Madonna.

MR. BLUE: I like her early stuff. You know, "Lucky Star," "Borderline" - but once she got into her "Papa Don't Preach" phase, I don't know, I tuned out.

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





MR. BROWN: Where was I?

MR. ORANGE: You said "True Blue" was about a nice girl who finds a sensitive fella. But "Like a Virgin" was a metaphor for big dicks.

MR. BROWN: Let me tell ya what "Like a Virgin"'s about. It's about some cooze who's a regular fuck machine. I mean all the time, morning, day, night, afternoon, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick.

MR. BLUE: How many dicks was that?

MR. WHITE: A lot.

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. 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."





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. 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. 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.





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?





NICE GUY EDDIE: Okay, everybody cough up green for the little lady.

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?

MR. WHITE: I love this kid, he's a madman, this guy.

MR. BLONDE: Do you have any idea what these ladies make? They make shit.

MR. PINK: Don't give me that. She don't make enough money, she can quit.

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.

MR. BLUE: Our girl was nice.

MR. PINK: Our girl was okay. She didn't do anything special.

MR. BLONDE: What's something special, take ya in the kitchen and suck your dick?

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.

MR. BLONDE: What if she's too busy?

MR. PINK: The words "too busy" shouldn't be in a waitress's vocabulary.

NICE GUY EDDIE: Excuse me, Mr. White, but the last thing you need is another cup of coffee.

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--

MR. ORANGE: --It is that too--

NICE GUY EDDIE: --It is that too. But it's also he couldn't get a waiter job. You talk like a pissed off dishwasher: "Fuck those cunts and their fucking tips."

MR. BLONDE: So you don't care that they're counting on your tip to live?

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





MR. BLONDE: 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.

MR. ORANGE: They work harder than the kids at McDonald's.

MR. PINK: Oh yeah, I don't see them cleaning fryers.

MR. BROWN: These people are taxed on the tips they make. When you stiff 'em, you cost them money.

MR. BLONDE: Waitressing is the number one occupation for female non-college graduates in this country. It's the one jab basically any woman can get, and make a living on. The reason is because of tips.

MR. PINK: Fuck all that. Hey, I'm very sorry that the government taxes their tips. That's fucked up. But that ain't my fault. it would appear that waitresses are just one of the many groups the government fucks in the ass on a regular basis. You show me a paper says the government shouldn't do that, I'll sign it. Put it to a vote, I'll vote for it. But what I won't do is play ball. And this non- college bullshit you're telling me, I got two words for that: "Learn to fuckin type." Cause if you're expecting me to help out with the rent, you're in for a big fuckin surprise.

MR. ORANGE: He's convinced me. Give me my dollar back.

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

MR. ORANGE: Mr. White.

JOE: Mr. White? 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.

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.





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

MR. WHITE: Go ahead and be scared, you've been brave enough for one day. I want you to just relax now. You're not gonna die, you're gonna be fine. When Joe gets here, he'll make ya a hundred percent again.

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. ORANGE: Take me to a doctor, take me to a doctor, please.





MR. PINK: Oh fuck, Orange got tagged.

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. 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 mother- fucker'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. 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: Jesus Christ!





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

MR. WHITE: He ain't dead. 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. 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: 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. 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. 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. 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. Ididn'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. So if you wanna shoot somebody, put that gun in your mouth and shoot yourself.





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. 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.





EDDIE: Daddy, did ya see that?

JOE: What?

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

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: 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.

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.

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 Koons thinkin "what the fuck." And if Koons 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 jab is goin different places - and we got places all over the place.





JOE: How would you feel about pullin a heist with about five other guys? VIC: What's the exposure like?

JOE: Two minutes, tops. It's a tough two minutes. It's a hold up, daylight, during business hours, dealing with a crowd. But you have the fellas to deal with the crowd. It's a jewelry store. They're getting a big shipment of South African diamonds on a certain day. They're like a way station. It's gonna get picked up the next day and sent to Hamburg. When you walk through the door, you'll know right where to go for the rich stones. The fellas are good, me and Nice Guy picked em. Nobody knows anybody else. Nobody's connected. I don't use connected guys for this shit.

VIC: What's the cut?

JOE: Juicy, man, real juicy.





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

EDDIE: Nobody saw what happened to Mr. Blue?

MR. BLONDE: Well, he's either dead or he's alive or the cops got him or they don't.





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.





MR. WHITE: We can't leave these guys with him.

EDDIE: Why not?

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

MR. WHITE: This is what he was doin.

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. 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, there's nothing you can do. Except pray for death.





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 bull shit 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.





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: 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.

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.





EDDIE: 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.

FREDDY: Do things? What would he do? You mean like beat her up?

EDDIE: Nobody knows for sure what he did. We just know he did something. Anyway, Elois plays it real cool. And waits for the next time this bag of shit gets drunk. So one night the guy gets drunk and passes out on the couch. So while the guy's inebriated, she strips him naked. Then she takes some crazy glue and glues his dick to his belly.

EDDIE: I'm dead fuckin serious. She put some on his dick and some on his belly, then stuck 'em together. The paramedics had to come and cut it loose.

MR. WHITE: Jesus Christ!

FREDDY: You can do some crazy things with it.

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

MR. WHITE: Was he all pissed off?

MR. PINK: How would you feel if you had to do a handstand every time you took a piss.





JOE: All right, let's get to know one another. With the exception of Eddie and myself, who you already know, you'll be using aliases. Under no circumstances are you to tell one another your real name or anything else about yourself. That includes where you're from, your wife's name, where you might've done time, about a bank in St. Petersburg you might've robbed. You guys don't say shit about who you are, where you been or what you've done. Only thing you guys can talk about is what you're going to do. This way the only ones who know who the members of the team are are Eddie and myself. And that's the way I like it. Because in the unlikely event of one of you getting apprehended by the cops, not that I expect that to happen - it most definitely should not happen - it hasn't happened, you don't have anything to deal with. You don't know any names. You know my name, you know Eddie's name. That I don't care about. You gotta prove it. I ain't worried. Besides, this way you gotta trust me. I like that. I set this up and picked the men I wanted for it. None of you came to me, I approached all of you. I know you. I know your work, I know your reputation. I know you as men. Except for this guy. But he's OK. If he wasn't OK, he wouldn't be here.





JOE: 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.

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.

MR. BROWN: Yeah, but Mr. Brown? That's too close to Mr. Shit.

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. 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?

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.





FREDDY: Isn't this risk unorthodox?

HOLDAWAY: What?

FREDDY: Letting them go ahead with the robbery?

HOLDAWAY: The whole idea behind this operation is to catch Joe Cabot red-handed. We bust these hired hands, we ain't accomplished shit. Letting them go through with the heist is a risk, but Cabot's jobs are very clean. We got people surrounding the perimeter. We got a guy and a gal on the inside posing as a couple shopping for rings. We could replace the employees with cops, but we'd run the risk of tipping 'em off.

FREDDY: That's out. They know the faces of who works what shift.

HOLDAWAY: These guys are professionals. We're professionals. It's a risk, but I think it's a calculated risk.





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.





EDDIE: You know, all things considered, this was pretty successful.

MR. WHITE: I don't believe you just said that.

EDDIE: No, it was messy as hell, but do you realize how much you got away with? There's over two million dollars worth of diamonds here.

MR. PINK: I love this guy.

EDDIE: Hey, what's done is done. We can all sit around and have a big cry about it or we can deal with the situation at hand.

MR. WHITE: The situation as hand isn't that fuckin satchel. You and Joe have a responsibility to your men.

EDDIE: Hey, it's the best I could do.

MR. WHITE: The man is fucking dying.

EDDIE: And I'm telling you, Bonnie'll take care of him.

MR. WHITE: He needs a doctor, not a fuckin nurse.

EDDIE: Ask me how many doctors I called. You wanna embarrass yourself, ask me how many doctors I called.

MR. WHITE: Obviously not enough.

EDDIE: Fuck you! You gotta little black book, then whip is out. If not, listen how it is. I called three doctors and couldn't get through to shit. Now, time being a factor, I called Bonnie. Sweet broad, helluva broad, and a registered nurse. Told her a bullshit story, upside: she said bring him to her apartment.

MR. WHITE: If he dies I'm holding you personally responsible.

EDDIE: Fuck you buddy boy! Okay, you wanna play that way. I am personally leaving myself vulnerable with this Bonnie situation.





EDDIE: You're a fuckin liar. Now why don't you drop the fuckin fairy tale and tell me what really happened?

MR. WHITE: He told you what really happened. You just can't deal with it.

MR. ORANGE: Okay, you're right, I'm lying. Even though I'm fuckin dyin I'm not above pullin a fast one. Get rid of Blonde, we share his split - no, scratch that, I shot him 'cause I didn't like his hair style. I didn't like his shoes either. If it has just been his hair, I'd've maybe, maybe I said, let him live. But hair and footwear together, he's a goner.

EDDIE: The man you killed was just released from prison. He got caught at a company warehouse full of hot items. He could've walked away. All he had to do was say my dad's name. But instead he shut his mouth and did his time. He did four years for us, and he did 'em like a man. And we were very grateful. So, Mr. Orange, you're tellin me this very good friend of mine, who did four years for my father, who in four years never made a deal, no matter what they dangled in front of him, you're telling me that now, that now this man is free, and we're making good on our commitment to him, he's just gonna decide, right out of the fuckin blue, to rip us off?





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

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

MR. WHITE, MR. PINK, EDDIE: What?

JOE: I said this lump of shit is workin with the LAPD. Aren't you?

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

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. PINK: Mr. Blue's dead?

JOE: Dead as Dillinger.

EDDIE: The motherfucker killed Vic.

MR. WHITE: How do you know all this?

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.






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