The Boondock Saints Page #20

Rocco slams his fist down on the table next to Murphy's gun.

The gun goes off with a bang! and blows the lounging cat

right off the table. A softball-sized hole is blasted in the

wall as a large splatter of blood sprays the area surrounding

the hole. Everyone is in shock for a second.

MURPHY:

I can't f***in' believe that just

happened!

INT. ROCCO'S APARTMENT NEXT MORNING 11:30 A.M.

The three are passed out all over the apartment. Rocco

awakens. He stumbles past the wall with the large, round,

pink stain on it. There is a crooked picture hanging in the

middle of it.

Rocco staggers to the kitchen and throws water in his face

over a sinkful of dirty dishes. Connor awakens, grabs his

jacket and follows Rocco out.

EXT. ROCCO'S FRONT STEPS CONTINUOUS

CONNOR:

(hung over)

Donna's gonna be angry about her

cat.

ROCCO:

Sh*t. She's on every drug know to

man. She'd have sold that thing for

a dime bag. Screw her.

(beat)

But I do kinda feel like an ass-hole.

CONNOR:

(chuckles)

You sound real remorseful.

Connor lights up two smokes and hands one to Rocco.

ROCCO:

She ain't been around in weeks anyhow.

CONNOR:

(beat)

Listen. Something's been bothering

me about last night.

ROCCO:

What?

CONNOR:

Well... what if your boss knew how

many guys were supposed to be there...

in that room?

ROCCO:

What are you saying?

CONNOR:

Think about it man. Nine men, six

bullets.

ROCCO:

You think they sold me out? No way.

CONNOR:

He probably knew you'd end up nailing

the fat guy, maybe one or two more,

but he had to know you weren't walking

out of there. Figure it out. Shooter's

dead on the scene. No in-depth

investigation. It'd slide right off

his back. 'Cause as much as I love

ya, you're not exactly Don Corleone.

What would he be losing? A thirty-

five year old delivery boy?

ROCCO:

No, no. That's just not the way things

are done. Besides, how's he know I

don't just get in there see there's

too many and just serve em their

f***in' food and beat it?

CONNOR:

He knows you, man. He knows all you

want is to move up. That's all. A

smooth hitter woulda gone in there,

seen it was a wash and slipped out.

But a guy like you? Knowin' this is

your only chance? Waitin' eighteen

years?

ROCCO:

No. No man. That's... that's... you

don't know what you're talking about.

That's bullshit. I know these guys.

I mean, thanks for your concern, but

that just ain't the thing of it.

CONNOR:

Do me a favor and roll it around for

a bit on your way in.

ROCCO:

No, look. No rolling. Nothing needs

to be rolled.

Murphy stumbles enters scene with Rocco and Connor.

MURPHY:

(to Rocco)

Where are you goin'?

(to Connor)

Did you tell him?

CONNOR:

Yes.

MURPHY:

(to Rocco)

Then what the f***?

ROCCO:

Hey. You don't know that sh*t for

sure.

MURPHY:

Oh, Jesus. You're such a f***in'

retard!

ROCCO:

F*** you!

MURPHY:

Use your brain for once. Is it so

unbelievable they don't care about

you? You are f***in' dead, you go in

there today. Dead!

ROCCO:

Oh yeah. You two f***in' Micks know

what's going on, huh?

(flips them off)

F*** you!

CONNOR:

(trying to calm him)

Hey, this ain't a thing you should

gamble on, Roc.

A girl rides by on a bicycle, they pause as she rides between

them.

MURPHY:

F*** it! What kind of flowers ya

want at your funeral? Ya dumb Wop.

This is the last time I'll see you.

Bye-bye ya stupid son of a b*tch.

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