Any Which Way You Can

---

How would you like to have

your goddamn rig impounded?

Sorry, Officer. My hand slipped.

You better get ready

to hock your tricycle, Jack.

Yeah? Let's see your money, big mouth.

- $200 on Philo!

- You're covered!

I'll go handle this.

$1,200.

$1,200.

$50 on Philo.

What's your name?

- $1,200 more on Philo!

- You're covered!

You know,

we're covering over $8,000 so far.

We'll eat him for breakfast.

Hell, Joe whipped every Marine

in the 1st Division.

He ain't a Marine.

- Jesus, he's big.

- Yeah, he's sizeable.

They said he beat everybody

in the Marine Corps.

I ain't a marine.

I got $2,800 from the boys in Bakersfield.

You're covered.

You lose this fight, we'll be patrolling

Death Valley for the next five years.

Don't worry about it, Sarge.

Eat him up, Joe.

Eat him up.

Take care of Clyde, will you?

You know he likes to crap in squad cars.

Hey, hold it.

Okay, Joe. All right!

He's killing him!

He's moving pretty good for a corpse.

Bingo!

All right. That's it.

- He ain't down yet.

- He ain't and I ain't putting him down.

If you want to take his place,

we can arrange that.

- Fight ain't over till he's down.

- Shut up.

Great. You got him.

- How much we pull down?

- $1,200.

Where's Clyde?

- Sh*t.

- There.

Clyde, you got damn little respect

for the law.

Sergeant Smith.

This is going to be my last fight.

How come?

Right turn, Clyde.

I'm getting to like the pain.

- Well, I guess it's time, then.

- Yeah, I think.

I don't understand it.

I whipped every marine in my division.

- Some real tough guys.

- Jesus.

How can you stand the stench?

I can't smell nothing.

The Captain won't really transfer us,

will he, Sarge?

Seeing as we flushed $2,800

of his hard-earned bucks...

...it's Death Valley, son, believe me.

- Some real tough guys.

- Pull those guys over! They're littering!

- Shut up, will you?

Pardon me, sir, was that $3,000?

No, it is not $3,000.

Mr. Paoli bets $30,000 on the challenger?

- That's it!

- He never touched him!

Your animal's going to be dead

in 15 seconds.

Gentlemen.

Keep your terrier in his cage, Beekman.

Junior, he is only looking out

for my interests, that's all.

- Your money will be here by 5:00 p.m.

- I expected no less.

- Did you set up a fight for Wilson?

- Not yet.

Come on.

What the hell am I paying him

$5,000 a month for, to sit on his hands?

Nobody will take him on.

Not after what he did

to those last couple of guys.

Maybe we ought to set up a match

between Wilson and the rattler.

You would lose a good rattler.

There is a guy on the West Coast

named Philo Beddoe.

Philo Beddoe.

- I never heard of him.

- Some folks from Dallas think a lot of him.

Yeah? Which folks?

The folks that bet.

And he's well-known in California.

I think we could get a good piece

of action on this one, Jim.

- All right. You set it up.

- All right.

Well, Loretta, we've talked about it

for 20 years, but now we're doing it.

We're in California.

I hear people here are a little peculiar.

Loretta, folks are just folks the world over.

- Luther.

- Yeah?

I think we should go back to lowa.

- You didn't tell me she was here.

- I didn't know. We can go.

Do you mind if I sit here?

No. It's a free country.

You're still mad at me, I guess.

No, I like having my guts kicked out.

I didn't mean to hurt you. I was mixed up.

- What do you think I was?

- I'm sorry.

That's in the past.

Yeah, it sure is.

Do you want me to leave?

Yeah.

All right, Clyde, keep your pants on.

I'm coming.

I knew you and Philo came in here a lot.

So, I told them I'd sing for nothing

just to get a chance to talk to him.

I guess I shouldn't have bothered.

- I don't like drinking with filthy apes.

- Clyde is a clean ape.

I'm going to kick his ass out of here.

If I was you, friend, I'd sit back there

and I'd have myself another beer.

- You ain't me.

- No.

- I'll have another beer.

- Right.

Looks like Clyde's getting a little rowdy.

We better get out of here.

You're getting rowdy, Clyde.

- You should leave Philo alone, honey.

- I'm not your honey.

Listen, he was down for two months

after you pushed him over.

So was I.

The three of us are doing fine now.

Why don't you just leave him alone?

Clyde, leave the bananas alone. Come on.

Kind of grows on you, doesn't he?

We are the Black Widows!

Who stomped a mudhole in you?

Philo Beddoe!

Then spat on you,

and let his ape stomp it dry?

Philo Beddoe!

So, whose hide are you going to nail

to the gates of hell?

Philo Beddoe's!

All right, then, let's start doing

some stomping of our own.

Yeah.

Good grief, my brownies are burning.

- His what?

- He's baking brownies.

Why me, Lord?

I mean, you made other men out of clay.

Mine, you made out of sh*t.

- I should have expected it.

- Expected what, Ma?

Quitting your job, letting an old lady

die of frostbite, canker sores.

- It ain't froze around here in 30 years, Ma.

- Don't have to freeze.

I got thin blood.

Besides, I didn't quit my job.

Fighting ain't my job.

I have to admit, it ain't much.

But it's the closest you've come

to earning a decent living.

But, hell, you don't care about keeping

a roof over a poor, helpless old lady's head.

You don't care if she has to eat dog food.

You don't care

if she has to soak her teeth in Clorox.

Come back here with my Oreos,

you hairy ass!

- I'm looking for Mr. Philo Beddoe.

- You're talking to him.

- I'm talking to his feet.

- Well, the top half of him can hear you.

I represent a man

who would like to back you, Mr. Beddoe.

See that crescent wrench up on top there?

- Yes, I see it.

- Why don't you hand it to me?

Tail first, of course,

because the jaws might be venomous.

Thanks.

- Back me at what?

- A fight?

- Sorry, I'm retired.

- Since when?

Since I decided to retire.

My employer is willing to pay you

$15,000 for this fight, Mr. Beddoe.

- Against who?

- A man named Jack Wilson.

- You know Wilson?

- I know of him.

Let's not quibble, Mr. Beddoe. $25,000.

- Is that win or lose, or just win?

- The money will be payable, win or lose.

$10,000 in advance.

- Give it to Clyde.

- Yes.

- Who's Clyde?

- He's my manager.

Jesus Christ!

- Don't worry, he won't hurt you.

- You want me to give $10,000 to an ape?

He handles all my business.

You stash that and don't let Ma see you.

Good boy.

I'll be in touch.

Yeah, I'm sure.

- You there, Harry?

- Yeah, what do you got?

Dead battery at Sunset and Lincoln.

- Green '73 Chevrolet.

- Got it. Be about twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes is too late by half, Harry.

Hang on, green Chevy. Harry's on the way.

Have you seen Clyde?

No. Is he gone?

A couple of hours.

- Is he in the shed?

- I'll take another look.

No hairy-ass jungle jumper...

...is going to outsmart Zenobia Boggs.

That goddamn banana-head probably ate it.

Send him down to that...

Work and slave for that ape of yours.

Work and slave.

I appreciate that, Ma.

You haven't seen him, have you?

No, I ain't seen him.

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