Bullet Head Page #3

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ain't seeing sh*t.

And just when I'm starting

to think I got conned...

it's all there.

The goddamn

truffle mother lode.

Come on.

So I give Pom-Poms

his reward,

I start loading these things

out into the hall.

And there's Sleeping Beauty.

I don't know what must've

happened to this guy

at the post office that day,

but the way

he's looking at me,

I can just tell he's getting

ready to put me down.

I mean, I can do a stretch

just fine,

but the prospect

of getting killed

over a bunch of mushrooms?

Truffles.

Whatever.

It's not sitting right.

So I start praying to God.

And the damndest thing happens.

I mean, if I'd have pulled

two .45s,

this guy wouldn't

have thought twice

about peeling my scalp back

right then and there.

But this mailman...

he sees a dog

and he's in the wind.

[laughs]

Come on. That's bullshit.

On my life, man.

Took old boy

straight to the groomers,

dropped $200

getting his pom-pom fluffed.

Been a dog lover

ever since.

What the sh*t?

WALKER:

F***ing kid.

[flies buzzing]

[sighs]

[indistinct voices]

STACY:

Kid!

Kid!

Nothing.

What is it?

OFFICER:

Dispatch, this is K-309.

Checking out the municipal

storage facility,

Conrad and Gardener.

DISPATCHER:

Copy unit K9.

Oh, f***.

OFFICER:

Got a jimmied door here.

Possible signs

of forced entry.

Going to let Charlie

have a sniff around.

DISPATCHER:

Copy that.

I need an additional unit

at Conrad and Berger.

OFFICER [over radio]:

Dispatch, this is car 210

responding.

I'm about eight blocks

from Connie, on Lerner.

I'll head over now.

DISPATCHER:

K-309,

car 210 is en route

to you now.

They f***ed us.

The kid f***ed us.

DISPATCHER:

Be advised, we are looking

for a late '80s

gold-colored Cadillac.

Castillo suspects are armed.

[huffing and panting]

[growls]

210 is checking

the perimeter now.

Other units,

please stand by.

OFFICER:

Dispatch, we've got possible

activity in here.

Charlie's all fired up

over something.

[growling]

[barks]

Easy. Easy, easy, boy.

Easy, easy.

Good boy, Charlie.

Good boy. It's okay.

Who's a good boy?

You're a good boy.

You're good.

[laughs]:

Hey, good boy.

Good boy, Charlie.

Good boy.

Who's a little boy?

Good boy, Charlie.

You're a good boy,

Charlie.

DISPATCHER:

210, we're all clear in there.

Just Charlie

chasing his tail again.

Copy that.

[loud bang]

GAGE:

Let me in.

[knocking on door]

[knocking persists]

STACY:

What about the dog?

It's out here playing Frisbee

with me.

The thing was half dead

to begin with.

Let me the f*** in.

[objects crash]

Are you rearranging

the f***ing furniture?

Look, there's a van downstairs

in a loading dock.

I bet you my whole share

the key's sitting right there

in the dead guy's

f***ing pocket.

Okay, let me the f*** in.

You pull that sh*t again,

you're going to stay out there.

Yeah, whatever.

[dog barks]

[growling]

WALKER:
F***!

Sh*t. F***. Sh*t.

[groans]

F***!

Hey!

[grunts]

Oh, f***.

[barking]

Oh, sh*t.

[growling]

Run, man. Go.

[panting]

Run!

F***. Sh*t.

[barking]

Kid? You hear me?

Look at me. You okay?

WALKER:

Broke a rib. I'll live.

Help me with the f***ing kid.

STACY:

Ah, Christ. F***ing sh*t.

WALKER:

Hang in there.

We're going to find something

to make you a tourniquet.

Okay?

[barks and growls]

Staunch the flow

and clean it up.

[panting]

F***!

WALKER:
F***!

Come on!

Come on. Jesus.

Sh*t.

[distant indistinct chatter]

[dog whines]

MAN 1:

Get the f*** out of here!

MAN 2:

I got-- I got a bag of marbles

around here...

[indistinct chatter]

[dogs barking]

[whines]

That's your prospect?

Uh-huh.

MAN:
Ain't nothing but a pup.

I've been working him.

MAN:

Sh*t. What line he from?

HANDLER:

Scatter-bred.

MAN:

All respect due,

I don't think you want a tot

going 40 pounds uphill

on the Russian.

Do I look like

a yard boy to you?

Take the f***ing dog

and put it in the corner.

Come on, boy.

[dog panting]

[growling]

[growls and barks]

[panting]

[barking]

You could call it

if it's ugly.

You can't.

[dog whining]

Shh.

[barking]

Release your dog.

[dogs growling and barking]

[bodies crashing,

flesh tearing]

[growling, flesh tearing]

[dog whimpers]

[body thuds]

Yeah.

No main cables.

Walker knows

a good doctor.

He came up doing cuts

for Chuck Wepner,

so he's seen a lot worse.

He'll get you squared away,

as soon as we get the f***

out of here.

Sorry about...

Yeah, well...

sorry about your face.

F***ing Weeble Wobble, man.

What the f***'s

a Weeble Wobble?

It's a toy.

F***ing Weeble Wobble,

you know?

Weeble Wobble?

Don't fall down?

Like-- Like a--

Like a Slinky.

Forget it.

Tournament brackets.

WALKER:

Looks like it.

F***ing hell.

What are these? Purses?

WALKER:

Note 25, 50, 100, two.

This is chump change.

Look at this guy.

Was he fighting pairs?

Tough motherf***er.

Jesus.

Nobody wins.

WALKER:

Jesus f***, this was last night.

Christ, how long

until sundown?

STACY:

Call our ride in 50,

then get out that fire escape.

Yeah, well,

what say you, kid?

Hmm?

Are you a cat person,

or are you more of a dog person?

Dogs.

I used to love them books

when I was little

where they got them

acting like people.

You know, driving around

in cars,

and making deposits

at the bank,

and buying ice cream cones

and all that.

Dad kept on having to whup my

ass for trying to talk to them.

To dogs?

Yeah. I'd see them

tied up outside the store,

and I'd ask where they parked

their trucks.

[chuckles]

I always wanted one,

but Pops said he could hardly

keep us fed.

So I had chickens

and stuff.

You a farm boy?

No, just-- Just country.

A few egg hens,

a busted-ass old milk cow.

I found this one dog by the side

of the road when I was 6.

It couldn't have been

more than a couple years old.

He-- He must've got hit

by a car or something.

His leg was busted up

real bad.

He was a-- He was a shepherd,

I think.

[whimpers]

I knew my pop wouldn't

let me keep him.

The dog catcher

would just put him down.

So I hauled his poor ass all

the way back to this old shack

we had out

behind our house.

And Dad was drinking

so much by then

I knew the toolshed's

the last place he'd be.

But this little dog was crying

so loud from the pain

that first day,

I was sure he'd hear

no matter how loaded he was.

I stayed in there

all night,

petting him and begging him

to be quiet

till he finally

calmed down.

Started bringing my lunches

home from school.

At first all he wanted

was that cheese you peel off.

But a few days in I had him

grubbing on meatballs,

and smiley face tater tots,

and chicken nuggets,

and all that,

like a regular schoolboy.

Had to clean the sh*t

off his fur every day,

because his leg was still

too f***ed to stand up.

But I didn't mind.

Nobody'd ever been that happy

to see me my whole life

as when I walked

in that room.

Tail wagging so hard

against the ground

he's kicking up dust

all over himself.

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