Shoot 'Em Up Page #3

One donor?

Yeah. And a generous one at that.

This is bone marrow blood.

It must be for some kind of cure.

How do you know that, Smith?

You didn't hear about

my Nobel Prize?

See, what it is, it's hard to find marrow

that matches that of the recipient.

The odds are much better

if the donor marrow shares...

the same DNA with

the person receiving it.

You mean these people were

harvesting babies...

for some guy's

bone marrow transplant?

Exactly. And somebody

wanted to make sure he didn't get it.

That's why they want Oliver dead.

No, my baby, no.

So I called that guy I know at NBC.

That's good.

And then I got to thinking.

- You know what I hate?

- Here we go again.

I hate those lame action movies...

where the good guy calls

just one person who ends up betrayin' him.

Yeah. That's right up there

with killing baby seals.

I called ABC, CBS,

The Post, The Times...

the local news channel, and the FBI.

So, what do we do next?

I figure we hang here

and watch the news.

Once the story goes public,

maybe we'll be safe.

look. He finally went to sleep.

Yeah, you just wait.

The moment you close

your eyes for a nap, he'll start screaming.

You can't take a little pleasure

in anything, can you?

You just hate everything.

I don't hate you.

Is that why you picked me?

You know why I picked you.

You have no idea

what you've done to me.

We're gonna get out of this, trust me.

- You just don't get it.

- What?

You bring me this child

so I can feed him, take care of him.

A baby that could be dead

at any moment.

And you never even think

to ask me...

what happened to my own child.

You're right.

It's unforgivable.

No. It's my fault.

It's like what my mamma

always said...

' le uova non devono ballare

con le pietre. '

If I say I'm sorry will

you tell me what that means?

Eggs have no business

dancing with stones.

You know, Smith...

I figured out what you hate most...

yourself.

What happened to your baby?

Forget about it.

Tell me.

My pimp hit me in the stomach.

My baby...

was delivered stillborn.

- Get off of me!

- Hey.

You like this, do ya?

It's called a gun.

Grip, slide, breech, barrel, trigger.

Now, this is the business end.

You should never point this

at anything you don't intend to kill.

Now, this is important.

This is called your safety.

You have to keep this on to make sure

the gun doesn't go off accidentally.

But really, this is

your number one safety.

Are you hungry?

Talk about shootin' your load.

look at this.

This is a Hammerson Nite Tac.

These aren't supposed to

hit the streets for 6 months.

This is weird.

All these guys have got 'em.

Don't even tell me.

Do you know how many of our men

he's body-bagged now?

Why should I waste my beautiful mind

on something like that?

Doesn't it piss you off a little?

Getting angry releases an enzyme...

tryptophan hydroxylase...

which can temporarily

reduce the I.Q.

That's something I can't

afford to do right now.

How do you know all that?

My boy's hooked

on the Discovery Channel.

Take me Westside.

I need to report in.

I got a bead

on who our Mr. Hero is.

No more arguments.

I have to do this alone,

and the only way I can do it...

is if I'm positive you two are OK.

This is the only place

I know you'll be safe.

- A tank?

- An M24 tank.

You'll be safe from gunfire

and most explosives.

- You're whacked.

- I am.

I'm also serious.

But nobody's allowed to get in it.

Don't worry. When I create

a diversion, you climb inside.

You should have

enough of that baby food...

to last you a couple of days.

The pured carrots are the best.

Well, you know

how to use this, right?

Yes, but what if

you don't come back?

That's not gonna happen.

There is no way to be sure.

Yes, there is.

Tu sei una stella, la mia stella.

- But, Mom, I wanna go home!

- Stop whining!

If you don't behave,

I am going to spank you.

- But, Mom, I wanna go home!

- Stop whining.

Stop it!

I hate it when parents...

- hit their children.

- let go of my arm!

Not until you stop hittin' your kid.

I will discipline

my child as I see fit.

How would you like it

if I spanked you?

What...?

- See?

- Help!

Doesn't feel so good, does it?

Help!

What the hell do you think you're doin'?

It's not funny.

So, what you got on this

all-star ground pounder?

Well, anybody this good

had to start out young.

And it's usually because

their pop was good at it too.

You know, like

MacArthur's dad was a general...

and Mickey Mantle's father

played pro ball.

My son is a video game whiz...

and I wasn't too bad at

Pong myself.

Just follow me,

if you will, Mr. Hammerson.

In '67, the limeys

got hard-ass on gun control.

So a lot of Brit gunsmiths

moved to the States.

Now, I've got an inside man

at Immigration...

working on which of

these guys had sons...

and if any of the boys

were crack shots.

I think the pucker factor's

gettin' to you.

You got diddly!

Yes, Duchess, you a good girl. Sit.

Yes. Now's your treat.

Now you get your treat.

My man has been

running the name down...

and he recalled one of these

gunsmith kids, actually.

National sports pistol

champion at age 10...

Olympic hopeful,

recruited by the army.

- But after that, the kid is...

- Kisses, kisses, kisses.

...never heard from again.

Well, that sounds like Black Ops

got him, trained him.

- This leads me to a theory.

- A theory?

A theory is bull-noogies.

All you got is a man with no name...

ridin' into town on a pale horse...

dispensin' his own brand o' justice.

Hertz, you know why people

in this country love guns?

And it's got nothin' to do

with all that...

phallic mumbo jumbo,

like 'cockin' your gun. '

No, Hertz, people love guns...

because America

is a land of opportunity...

where a poor man can become rich...

...and a p*ssy can become

a tough guy...

if he's got a gun in his hand.

I'm hopin' you're not just

a p*ssy with a gun in your hand.

Oh, no, sir, no. No, I'm not.

I'm a tough guy with

a p*ssy in my hand.

I want you to give this guy...

and the kid a dirt nap.

Yes, sir.

Right away, sir.

Amore mio.

Don't worry.

Daddy will be back soon.

Hold it! Hold it!

Well, well, well, Mr. Bunny.

You just keep goin',

goin', goin', don't ya?

- So do you.

- I promise to, uh...

to spare your life

if you tell me where...

the woman and child are.

Forget it.

Oh, boy.

'Ey, who trained you?

N.S.A. Black Ops? CIA?

The army?

Well, whoever. It seems

you haven't lost your aim, champ.

You think that's good, you should

see me spell my name in the snow.

'Ey, you know, my boss here...

thinks that you're the lone Ranger

or something.

Well, I believe I have a better idea

about who you are.

I found out how your

wife and son were killed.

My God, what a tragedy.

Some guy walks into a burger joint...

he starts shooting up the place.

Oh, my God, what a shame...

that your wife and son were there...

having their... chicken nuggets.

What's the matter,

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote