Bloody Mama Page #5

- What are you, a wise guy?

- My name isn't Buddy.

Jesus!

I could put a bullet through your brain...

That still wouldn't make my name Buddy,

sonny boy.

You're right out of your mind, ain't you?

I don't make my living the way you do,

if that's what you mean,

but either way,

my name is Samuel Adams Pendlebury.

But since you've seen fit to place me

in fairly intimate circumstances,

you have my permission to call me Sam.

But not buddy.

You're a real hot number

from the loony bin, ain't you?

Maybe.

Now, why'd you call me sonny boy?

Because you sound like a kid.

I ain't no kid.

All right. I'm sorry. How old are you?

None of your damn business.

- Ain't you scared, Mister?

- Not "Mister," sonny boy. Sam.

Jesus lover!

Okay.

Okay, okay.

Ain't you scared, Sam?

I have a wife, two sons and a daughter,

all of whom I love very much,

so I'm not entirely without fear, no.

What's more to the point, they need me.

Yeah, they'd better need you,

$300,000 worth.

Why, hell, even if they got up the money,

sons of b*tches like you

might just kill me anyway.

We brought your own damn doctor.

You just did that to prove

you really had me.

You really ain't grateful for anything,

are you?

(COUGHING)

All right! All right! I'm grateful.

Thank you.

- What color are your eyes?

- What?

What color are your eyes?

What difference does that make?

My old man had blue eyes.

Really blue.

Why don't you take these goggles off

and see what color my eyes are,

sonny boy?

I can't.

Yeah, it's a hell of a thing

to be without power, isn't it?

Memphis is crawling

with those lousy G-men.

KATE:
Somebody must have

called the damn President.

- Still gonna send the ransom note?

- KATE:
No.

Arthur here is gonna phone

that dumb Mrs. Samuel Pendlebury.

But I want you

to all understand something.

We may still have to kill him.

- I don't wanna hear it.

- You sit there, you little b*tch!

Ma, Jesus.

Mama, it is time to feed him.

All right. When I'm here, I feed him,

you understand?

- You understand?

- I understand.

Mona, just 'cause I told you

to take care of him

doesn't mean that he belongs to you.

All right, Mama.

If I left him alone

with you very long, you'd probably...

Probably what?

I know whores, Kevin.

She'd probably turn him

every way but loose.

Well, that ain't gonna hurt nobody.

And she might even do that.

And from now on, you shut up

and go play your Mumbly Peg.

KATE:
Now, I told your lawyer

not to call the cops.

He done called the cops.

And I told your wife not to call anyone.

She calls in the whole damn FBI.

- What kind of wife you got, Sam?

- She's a good wife. She's a good mother.

Sure easy, with all your damn millions.

I don't have damn millions.

I got maybe two, three million,

and it's not in cash, lady.

Sam, if she's such a good woman,

why is she calling in the whole country?

Sam?

Don't she realize

she's painting us into a corner?

I'm sorry.

Well, she better be sorry.

Here.

- What... What am I eating tonight?

- Come on, it's your supper.

I bet with all your money,

she can't even cook a decent meal.

Yeah, she can cook better than you can.

Listen, when I had the vittles,

I was the best cook in our county.

I just don't have time now,

buster, to bake you a pie.

- I'm sorry.

- "I'm sorry."

My... My man said that

for so many years...

You just damn well

don't say that no more, understand?

I don't like for ladies to swear.

It's not right.

Some things better left to men.

Now, you should try to control yourself.

If his partner gets the cash,

there'll be three NRA

posters in the window.

That's a really swell signal.

Who thought of that really swell signal?

- Ma did.

- Peachy keen.

If we get the money, you gonna marry me?

Sure I'm gonna marry you, Mona.

- We gonna live with your mama?

- Ma's the boss.

Peachy keen.

HERMAN:
Now, what the hell

is that supposed to mean?

One-and-a-half posters

means they only got half the money.

I'm pregnant.

(CRASHING)

Jesus Christ!

MONA:
That car over there.

Hey!

You love me, Mona?

Here, take care of that.

(GUN FIRING)

That's a hell of a way to tell a guy, baby.

- Didn't know you'd carry on so.

- Oh, shut up.

Sam?

They've gotta come up

with that other 150,000 bucks.

Don't they know?

I told them.

It takes time to get

that much cash together.

Yeah.

Sam, I didn't mean to keep you here

this long.

I know that it's rotten for you.

I just have to roll with the punches,

don't I?

- Would you like a drink?

- Yeah.

- Here.

- Where?

- Thank you.

- Welcome.

Sam, I gotta roll with the punches, too.

My goddamn teeth are hurting me,

and I got a damn stupid gal

running around the place pregnant.

- Shouldn't have said that, should I?

- No. You shouldn't swear, either.

It's funny,

I don't mean to do that around you.

I guess I can't seem

to help myself no more.

Your apology's accepted.

Sam, would you make love with me?

Three weeks is a long time,

but I'm a married man.

Come on.

We being outside the law,

as you would say,

and us being gangsters,

we got certain advantages.

We don't have to pay no mind

to those respectable, nice people rules.

How could I make love to you,

tied up like this?

Supposing you just had

on those goggles, and...

And you could imagine I was anybody,

even your lily-sweet wife,

and you could do

whatever you wanted to?

Supposing, though,

I was to hold you down,

rip these goggles off,

and gag you and tie you,

make my escape?

And supposing I had my boys

sitting over there with a machine gun,

you just so much as

reach for those goggles

and they'd blow your brains out?

That'd be one sorry way to make love,

wouldn't you say that?

Don't you get so damn uppity with me,

Samuel Pendlebury.

I know what all

you proper bastards really think.

You wish you could be more like us.

But you're scared of your neighbors,

and you ain't got the guts.

So you buy all those newspapers

and you just spend your time

reading about us,

and you turn on your radios

and you listen about us.

Sam, you just got it all bass-ackwards.

I'm important people in this country now.

I bet I'd have more fan mail than

Eleanor Roosevelt if they could find us,

and I'm prettier than she is.

God bless her all the same.

You're a proper, growed-up man, Sam.

You's getting to us.

But we is getting to you, too.

We don't want Mrs. Pendlebury

seeing you look like a real mess,

do we, Mr. Pendlebury?

We bought you a brand-new white shirt

with French cuffs.

$300,000.

She thinks an awful lot of you, boy.

LLOYD:
I mean, God, what a price.

Half the time from the beginning,

I didn't think we was gonna get it.

And, Mr. Pendlebury,

I bought you a pair of real black specs,

and if you want my advice,

you'd wear them.

At least for a couple of weeks.

FRED:
We're gonna leave you

some sandwiches,

then you hike to the nearest farmhouse

and phone.

Boy, your kids are gonna

be real, real glad to see you.

And remember, now, Mr. Pendlebury,

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