Reservoir Dogs Page #11

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VIC:

Well, what I wanna do is go back

to work. But I got this Koons

prick deep up my ass. He won't

let me leave the halfway house

till I get some piece of sh*t job.

My plans have always been to be

part of the team again.

There's a KNOCK at the door.

JOE:

Come in.

The door opens and in walks Joe's son, Nice Guy Eddie.

Vic turns around in his seat and sees him.

EDDIE:

(to Vic)

I see ya sittin here, but I don't

believe it.

Vic gets out of his seat and hugs Eddie.

EDDIE:

How ya doin, Toothpick?

VIC:

Fine, now.

EDDIE:

I'm sorry man, I shoulda picked

you up personally at the pen.

This whole week's just been crazy.

I've had my head up my ass the

entire time.

VIC:

Funny you should mention it.

That's what your father and I been

talkin about.

EDDIE:

That I should've picked you up?

VIC:

No. That your head's been up your

ass. I walk through the door and

Joe says "Vic, you're back, thank

god. Finally somebody who knows

what the f*** he's doing. Vic,

Vic, Vic, Eddie, my son, is a f***

up." And I say "Well, Joe, I

coulda told you that." "I'm

ruined! He's ruining me! My son,

I love him, but he's taking my

business and flushing it down the

f***in toilet!"

(to Joe)

I'm not tellin tales out of

school. You tell 'im Joe.

Tell 'im yourself.

JOE:

Eddie, I hate like hell for you to

hear it this way. But when Vic

asked me how's business, well, you

don't lie to a man who's just done

four years in the slammer for ya.

Eddie bobs his head up and down.

EDDIE:

Oh really, is that a fact?

Eddie JUMPS Vic and they fall to the floor.

The two friends, laughing and cussing at each other,

wrestle on the floor of Joe's office.

Joe's on his feet yelling at them.

JOE:

(yelling)

Okay, okay, enough, enough!

Playtime's over! You wanna roll

around on the floor, do it in

Eddie's office, not mine!

The two men break it up. They are completely disheveled,

hair a mess, shirttails out. As they get themselves

together, they continue to taunt one another.

EDDIE:

Daddy, did ya see that?

JOE:

What?

EDDIE:

Guy got me on the ground, tried to

f*** me.

VIC:

You f***in wish.

EDDIE:

You tried to f*** 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 f***

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 f***in 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 b*tch.

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 n*gger. It's

all that black semen been shootin

up his butt. It's backed up into

his brain and comes out of his

mouth.

JOE:

Are you two finished? We were

talkin about some serious sh*t

when you came in Eddie. We got a

big problem we're tryin to solve.

Now Eddie, would you like to sit

down and help us solve it, or do

you two wanna piss fart around?

Playtime is over and Vic and Eddie know it. So they both

take seats in front of Joe's desk.

JOE:

Now Vic was tellin me, he's got a

parole problem.

EDDIE:

Really? Who's your P.O.?

VIC:

Craig Koons.

EDDIE:

Koons? Oh sh*t, I hear he's a

motherf***er.

VIC:

He is a motherf***er. He won't

let me leave the halfway house

till I get some piece of sh*t job.

EDDIE:

You're coming back to work for us,

right?

VIC:

I wanna. But I gotta show this

a**hole 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:

(to Eddie)

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 sh*t. 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

f***." 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 sh*t

you needed to unload there.

You're at the Taft airstrip pickin

up a bunch of sh*t and bringing it

back. Part of your jab is goin

different places - and we got

places all over the place.

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