The Matador Page #4

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Do you know...

...it says it took 53 years

to paint this ceiling.

People are upset, mr Randy.

Mr Stick is upset.

- Stick knows?

- Mr Stick knows...

Well, he knows we can fix it.

- I'm just the messenger.

- But he knows we can fix it!

- We always fix any problems.

- And fix it with Noble.

Ladies...

Alright, I'm gonna replace him.

No... Yes.

You'll replace him,

but no.

Mr Stick have asked for other things.

No, it's ridiculous.

Julian has been with us for 22 years,

two little misstakes...

Julian Noble... is a dead man.

Take me, Danny-boy!

Excellent...

Laundry's done...

Tomorrow it's 4 years.

I know...

It's such a long time really,

when you think about it.

It seems like yesterday, right?

Henry was alive...

When I was first in high-school

I told you they'd made fun of me...

When they called me hippo-hips...

played-beans.. the works.

And even though I did basketball,

and chorus, and...

I had a few friends and I acted strong,

I never was...

...because I believed them,

always, every last cruel... word.

And I always thought I would believe them.

Until I met you...

You arrived at 12th grade.

And you told me...

That I was pretty, and for the first time

I believed it.

You told me that I was sexy.

You were sexy back there, in the dryer.

And when Henry died...

...you told me to stay strong!

And that we would get through it.

And we did.

We did...

- That's because you never gave up on me.

- I never could.

I never will.

Who could that be,

at 11:
30 at night?

Yeah?

- Danny Wright?

- Yes.

Who's there?

Danny, Danny!

Danny, with the large white fanny!

- Julian!

- Would you mind opening up, Danny?

It's freezing out here,

my balls are like bon-bons.

I've always praying you'd remember me.

It's been a spell.

- Please, please, come on in.

- Thank you.

I've decided to...

How did you find me?

I've found a whore

with a heart of gold once, -

- I can certainly find Danny Wright's

card in my addressbook.

- Excuse me, I didn't realise.

- It's okey.

- You must be Bean.

- My wife.

I've heard so much about you...

And me, you.

There's no doubt you're every bit

as lovely as Danny said.

I always said you were the

luckiest man I ever met.

What are you doing here, Julian?

I really don't know...

I don't know.

I hope it's alright I'm being here,

I mean...

... it's at the middle of the night!

- Yes.

- Well...

I could sure use some coffee,

just a cup.

Yes, right, of course.

I can get some coffee.

That'd be great!

- Or maybe some whisky?

- That's even better.

- Tonight's the night for whisky then.

- And song and dance...

Well, whisky atleast.

This is really odd.

Really, really odd.

- I can ask him to leave.

- We just asked him to stay.

- We could change our minds.

- Why? Do you think he's dangerous?

He's an assassin, Bean.

Of course he's dangerous.

But I mean dangerous, dangerous,

you said he was a nice guy.

He is... for an assassin

he's very nice.

F***!

Fuckety-f***...

What? I'm allowed to curse.

- Especially now. If not now, when?

- True.

It's the f***in' perfect time

to be f***in' cursing.

There's a f***in' killer standing,

in our f***in' living-room.

Do you think he would show me his gun?

A toast, maybe?

To a stranger,

arriving in the middle of the night.

- Well, you're not a stranger...

- No, I'm pretty strange.

Be that as it may, you're not a stranger,

Julian. Far from it.

The toast really should be to you, Danny...

and to you, Bean.

For your hospitality, and your warmth.

I never thought I'd see you again, Julian.

I never thought I'd see you again,

Danny, but...

...things change.

They just change...

Is that...

- You saved it.

- I did.

You saved it, I can't believe it.

He still talks about that

all the time.

It touches me that you kept it.

How could I not?

- That was a special day.

- Yes.

So Danny told you

what I did?

Professionally?

Did you bring your gun?

Yes...

As a matter of fact.

- May I see it?

- Really?

- Yes, please.

- Honey, he's not just gonna...

- Here, hold...

- Okey.

- Is that a 38?

- Yes, it is.

You know your guns, Bean.

- Yes, well...

- My God...!

You are a magnificient woman.

Bean knows a lot of things about

a lot of things.

Bean, tell me...

Did Danny tell you everything

about our time in Mexico together?

Yes, I'm sure.

Why?

My God, you look great, Danny.

Really great.

You do too, Julian.

Oh, no. I look like a Bangkok-hooker, on a

sunday morning, after the navy left town.

But you...life's been good to you,

am I right?

Pretty good, yeah.

You have that respect you wanted

back again?

I do.

So you got that job

you were in Mexico for?

- We did.

- And your luck?

It's better, right?

No more trees in the kitchen?

You told him about that?

And you love Bean more than ever.

That, I do.

Then, what more could you want?

Here's a toast...

...to a man with respect again...

To a woman that's more lovely

than any man deserves.

And to me.

What is the toast to you for?

A toast to a dead man, Bean.

A toast to a dead man...

For about 2 months ago

I had a job in Manilla.

Normally, this would make me happy.

I like the hot climate,

and the guys looks like chicks

It's f***in' fantastic.

The thing was...

I was burnt out.

I didn't know it, I didn't even know

what "burnt out" meant at the time.

But I was!

I was a classic textbook-case.

I was having panic-attacks. I was

completely losing control of myself...

I tried to counter this with booze,

of course, but...

Nothing was working...

I drank, and drank, and...

Nothing... I was so feeling edgy.

Still feeling like my head

was gonna explode.

So...

I moved on to my other usual diversions.

A wonderful little whore-house.

That wasn't working either.

And a good f*** usually does.

Excuse my french.

So I had this assignment,

nothing special...

Some executive.

Someone doesn't want him around.

You know, my usual-type gig.

I knew that this cooperate-guy

always came to a market-

-every thursday, to buy fruit.

The guy liked his fruit.

As he walks through the crowds,

I bump into him.. and stab him.

The thing was, I was still a mess.

And every time I looked at the guy,

I didn't see him.

But I saw a little boy instead.

And it wasn't just any boy.

It was me... me, as a child!

Freaky sh*t, right?

Real nervous breakdown,

sort of stuff.

I stood ready with the knife,

still prepared for the job.

I couldn't do it.

I just couldn't do it.

Then what happened?

I woke up in a pile of donkey-sh*t.

I fainted. I guess I landed in a pile

of donkey-sh*t.

And since then...

...it's been extremely cold.

Some jobs goes okey...

...others, not so okey.

And, in a few weeks ago,

I f***ed up again, in Budapest.

I frooze, right at the moment

I should have been firing.

I didn't finish the job,

and that was that.

Now it's just a matter of time.

Isn't there somebody that you can talk to?

Like Mary Beth in human-resources?

This is insane. Are they gonna kill you

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