Cornered!

We've just gotten

information regarding another attack...

by the Convenience Store Killer.

Issues, man. Issues.

The killer has struck again,

this time in the Santee Alley

district in downtown L.A.

The serial killer's...

I mean, the way he kills people...

Of course I am worried.

As a parent,

what am I supposed to do?

What if the killer decides

to do home invasions next?

The authorities still have no leads...

because, yet again,

the surveillance tapes are missing.

Police remain baffled,

still unable to find hard evidence...

exposing the identity of the killer.

He's probably just some punk fool...

with too much imagination.

Police discovered

four bodies earlier this morning.

All of them had been tortured

and brutally murdered.

The mayor's office has announced

an increased reward of $500,000...

for information leading to the arrest

and conviction of the serial killer.

Pinche Mona.

Mona, no, you don't.

Donny. No wonder

he's so f***ing fat.

A**hole.

Got yourself

a nice tan, Jimmy.

Huh? Oh. Yeah.

Weather sucked.

Hmm. Must've been

why you came back early, huh?

When do we get to see

the vacation pictures?

Didn't take any.

I didn't bring

a camera.

What about the one

on your cell phone?

What?

- Jacko? Man, I knew it. Come on.

- Damn, Donny.

- Let's go.

- I ain't doing a damn thing.

Man, what the hell you doing?

I ain't done a damn...

Let's go.

You know the rules. Get out.

- Aw, man.

- If you come in, I swear to God...

Man, how many times

I got to tell you? You are banned.

Oh, come on, Donny.

One little can

of dog food?

I mean, you wouldn't want old Skippy here

to go hungry, would you?

He ain't had nothing

to eat in three days.

Come on, Donny.

All right, man.

You're a good brother.

What was that? What...

Give me that.

Give me that!

Sh*t.

Those motherfuckers.

- Give me it.

- No, you ain't.

Get... off... of... me.

- My booze.

- A**hole.

- Don't slam my door, b*tch.

- Put it on my bill, you cheap bastard.

- Is there a problem here?

- Donny, just go back inside.

Just give me

my f***ing money.

You got half.

The other half was if you swallowed.

Hey, why don't you give

the lady her money, okay?

Stay out of this, you fat f***.

Just give her the money!

Huh?

Make me.

Jesus!

The first one's

on the house.

The next one

she'll put on your tab.

You're f***ing dead.

Really?

Jesus!

This...

This ain't over yet.

F***ing little b*tch! You f***ing

goddamn American piece of sh*t!

Eh, f*** you!

Thanks, Morty.

Sure. No worries.

What happened there?

I can't even start.

What am I gonna do

with you, Marie? Just leave.

And you, get the hell outta here,

you pervert. Never come back.

Steve, here's the stuff.

I couldn't wait until tomorrow.

You're late.

Jimmy.

What? What?

You okay?

Why can't you get

a normal job?

Don't judge me, Donny.

I have rent to pay.

- Oh, God.

- What?

Last bit.

Hmm.

You gonna pay for that?

If you ask me, you picked

the wrong time of year to be...

- in the store-selling business, Steve.

- I'm not asking.

Well, you really wanna

unload this stuff?

You got to make it something

that people wanna buy.

Let me guess. This another one

of your sales pitches...

to try to get me to buy more sh*t

from you, right?

No, it's not a sales pitch.

This is friendly advice.

Remember the first rule

of retail:

your store is only

as good as your stock.

Nothing wrong with my stock.

No, you don't, Jimmy.

- What are you doing?

- Nothing.

Ah, Donny Doughnut.

Glad you could join me.

Just so we're clear, I'm deducting

from your paycheck this week...

three sugar glazed,

two chocolate, six creams.

Oh, and a new front door.

Hey, Steve, come on, man.

That was an accident.

Oh, there'll be an accident,

your fat ass doesn't fix that door.

I swear, the killer's got a thing

for liquor stores.

Four victims last night.

You should've seen the owners.

The a**hole wouldn't

find it as funny...

if he would start getting

brain-dead delivery guys.

I heard the reward

is now half a million.

That would be

a good vacation, huh, Jimmy?

Whatever.

Screw the reward.

If I knew who the killer was... Ah!

- You'd pass on half a million bucks?

- Nah. I'd collect.

But they didn't specify

if they wanted him dead or alive,

so I guess he'll get his due.

Oh, yeah?

What do you have in mind?

Well, you know,

that guy, um...

from that movie, Jimmy, you used to watch

when you were a kid, hombre.

- The guy with the messed-up face.

- Who, Freddy?

No, no, no. The other guy. You used to

dress up as him and jump out on your ma.

- Oh, Leatherface.

- Leatherface.

Yeah. Remember him?

I mean, he was on the money,

but his technique...

He used to ram the meat hook

right between the shoulder blades,

giving 'em a lot of leeway for kicking

and screaming and carrying on.

See, what you do is you hang 'em

upside down like a regular animal.

You ram the meat hook

low through his back,

legs spread, cleft

of his ass cheeks exposed.

Ooh, sounds kind

of kinky to me.

Of course. Everything sounds kinky to you.

Anyway, what's the first thing you do

when you're sawing wood?

You mark a line with a saw

so you can get a straight cut.

That's the crack

of this guy's ass.

You line up the blade, fire that baby up

and...

It sounds like if you're gonna go through

all the trouble to string this bastard up,

it would be a waste

to just finish him off just like that.

What would you do besides

licking him to death?

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

What would I do?

Uh... let's see.

Ooh. I'd pull his eyes out.

- Ooh, that's original, Mona.

- Ha, ha, ha.

F*** you too.

Ha, ha, ha.

You got a sick plan, Steve.

Where you gonna get tools

like that?

Are you kidding, man? This place was a

turn-of-the-century butcher shop.

Most of the original sh*t's

still down in the basement.

You're kidding.

No, really.

Cleavers, knives, meat hooks.

Scary-looking sh*t.

Just what that prick deserves.

So, what's wrong with putting

half a million bucks in your pocket?

- Uh... nothing.

- Mm-mm. Absolutely nothing.

A Caribbean cruise. Ooh, a new crib

in a decent neighborhood.

- Oh, and a new pimped ride.

- Acting lessons.

- Mmm.

- And a big house in Malibu,

with a fireplace

and a view of the ocean.

Mmm. Ah.

What would you do, Jimmy?

A guy like that's

nothing but vermin.

Yeah, but how

would you kill him?

Well, he's still

hanging upside down, right?

I'd wrap him up

in Saran Wrap,

f***ing head to toe,

like a big chunk of dope.

Then I'd cut him up.

Cut him up really bad.

Let that plastic baggy fill up

like a used condom.

Let that son of a b*tch

choke in his own filthy blood.

Freako.

Well, before this goes on,

I will bid you adieu before I hurl.

Bye, Morty.

Ah. Hey, what

would you do, Jess?

- Finished.

- Hey, they locked us in.

Oh. I couldn't kill anyone.

Hypothetically, Jessita.

Let's say you're cornered. You or him.

Do or die. What would you do?

Cut off his head, I guess.

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