Seven Psychopaths Page #7

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see he gets back all right.

I think I'll see how this plays out.

Sure I'm drunk now anyway.

Seriously, Marty,

you gotta do something about your drinking

because, I swear to God,

it's gonna wind up killing you.

This is kind of like that window of time

when you're waiting in the waiting room

of the VD clinic, isn't it?

For the door to open and the doctor to

come out and say, "Billy, you're good to go."

Or, "Billy, you've got VD."

Or chlamydia or whatever.

He's all alone.

What the hell's he all alone for?

Turn around again.

And lift up your jacket.

- You shot him in the back.

-Of course I shot him in the back.

I was going for his spine.

- But he was unarmed.

-My ass, he was f***ing unarmed.

Where's your guns?

- Where's your guns?

-You said don't bring none,

so I didn't bring none.

Hey, Bonny baby.

You didn't bring a gun

to the final shoot-out? Bullshit.

And don't talk to my dog!

He said don't bring none,

so I didn't bring none.

- Who are you?

-Just Billy's friend.

- Found it, motherf***er.

-Your friend's a f***ing nut.

My ass, you was f***ing unarmed.

I found it, motherf***er.

It's a flare gun, Billy.

You could do a lot of damage

with a flare gun.

- Think I'm gonna die.

-What?

- I think I'm gonna die.

-Well, don't keep going on about it!

You f***ing c*nt.

F***ing ruined everything now.

Will you let me give him a couple of kisses

and a couple of scratches?

No, I ain't gonna let you give him

a couple of kisses and a couple of scratches!

Billy, we gotta get him to a hospital.

Are you out of your alcoholic f***ing mind?

You don't take the chief f***ing villain

to a f***ing hospital.

Put your hands up.

No.

- What?

-I said no.

- Why not?

-I don't want to.

- But I've got a gun.

-I don't care.

But...

it doesn't make any sense.

Too bad.

Well...

- Where are your friends?

-I don't know.

- Yes, you do know.

-No, I don't know.

- You do know.

-Shoot me, then.

F***ing dick-bags.

This is just un-f***ing-believable, man.

- We can't just let him bleed to death.

-We totally can.

We totally can let him bleed to death.

That's totally what we can do.

I'm not leaving without my dog.

Listen up, you bald-headed fag.

It's you or your f***ing dog!

I gotta pick me, don't I? 'Cause if I'm dead,

I ain't gonna have a dog anyway.

That's very good. That's very brainy.

And if I'm alive, I can always come back here

and get my dog

and blow your goddamn head off, can't I?

That's exactly right.

With your faggy little flare gun.

You c*nt.

- Can I have my flare gun back?

-No, you can't have your flare gun back.

What, is he drinking and driving?

I'll be back for you.

That was the worst final shoot-out

I've ever f***ing seen, man.

Why would he only bring a flare gun

to the big final...

Oh, I get it.

Motherf***er.

You got a gun?

You don't got a gun, do you, Quaker?

You better keep out of the way now, all right,

old man'? I like you.

Hey.

Stop! Police!

It isn't gray

at all.

Sh*t!

- Should've brought that gun along, buddy.

-Don't believe in them.

In guns? You don't believe in guns?

They ain't f***ing leprechauns,

you dumb Mick. What are you talking about?

I was trying to save your life, man.

It's a flesh wound, you f***ing idiot.

Give me my gun.

Cops are coming, Charlie.

We had to whack that Quaker guy.

Don't you wish you had a gun now?

No.

I don't.

So why don't you go f*** yourself.

Where's the other guy, Charlie?

Down the road a-ways with my dog.

What are we gonna do?

We're gonna go get my dog-

What's with your sour f***ing puss?

I could've just killed you now, couldn't I?

You've had your friend killed, and you're

just about to have your other friend killed,

but that still only makes two friends killed.

I've had four of my guys killed,

and also my girlfriend killed,

who I didn't like much,

but that's still five friends killed.

That's three more friends killed

than you've had friends killed,

so don't give me

that moany f***ing face, okay?

What? What do you see?

Oh, nothing.

Just the perfect place for a final shoot-out.

Get away from the car! Get away from the car!

Throw your guns down,

or the alcoholic gets it!

Don't throw down sh*t, Billy!

No, no. This is working out perfect.

Here's my guns, mister.

And the other one!

- I only had two.

-Man, I saw you with three!

All right, all right, you're one smart cheese!

Now get down here with my f***ing dog!

Are you gonna let Marty go if I do?

Yes, I'm gonna let Marty go if you do.

He didn't have anything to do

with any of this.

He was just writing a movie.

- Are you?

-Yeah.

- What's it called?

-Seven Psychopaths.

I'm coming down.

I was just trying to buy

some time because I had to

reload something.

Forgot about the flare gun, you f***ing idiot.

- Bonny.

-Yeah, Bonny, I know.

And I like this dog.

Please. Bonny's not part of the gang.

That's not fair.

You gonna cry?

Marty, get going.

They killed Hans, Billy.

Ah, man.

I didn't kill him. He killed him.

Don't kill my dog.

Marty, get going. Write it up.

Come with me, Billy. Please.

I told you, didn't I, Marty?

- Told me what, Billy?

-This movie ends my way.

Oh, f***.

- What's the matter with your f***ing gun?

-Gets jammed sometimes.

At the f***ing standoff?

- Paolo, shoot him.

-At the f***ing standoff?

Paolo, shoot him while he's not looking.

- I am looking. Clearly, I'm looking.

-And I ain't shooting.

What do you mean, you ain't shooting?

He's gonna shoot my dog.

Yeah, well, f*** your dog.

F*** my dog?

Hey, mongoloid, fix your f***ing gun,

or your little gay dog's little gay head's

gonna f***ing explode.

- He doesn't have a gay head.

-Five.

- He has a normal head.

-Four.

- Three.

-Can you go back to five?

I ain't going back to five, man.

I ain't going back to five.

Five.

Four

Three.

Two .

Drop your gun! Let me see your hands!

Hands, move!

Come here, baby. Come to Daddy.

Paw.

Paw.

Paw.

He's my friend.

To Martin, I...

Well, I ain't any kind of a screenwriter

as you know,

but I've been kind of trying to

come up with some sort of solution

to your Vietcong psychopath conundrum

and, goldarnit, I think I may have found one.

So, there's this

Vietnamese guy, and he's in this hotel room

in Phoenix,

and he's sweating. He's sweating like hell.

He's burning up.

He takes out from his pocket a .44.

He checks it's loaded.

I don't know why he checks it's loaded.

Surely he's the one who loaded it'?

Anyway, a hooker comes out

of the bathroom in a beautiful red dress.

She says, "Would you like to make love,

"or should we have

an intelligent conversation instead?

"I've been reading a lot of Noam Chomsky

lately, I think he's a marvel."

The Vietnamese guy, you know,

he doesn't know what she's talking about.

He's Vietnamese. So, anyway,

you said you wanted some sex in it,

so I guess they're having sex.

Desist, brother.

You know this will not help us.

He sniffs the air. He says the single word...

Gasoline.

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