Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead Page #3

Look at you, filthy f***ing Franchise.|You're still alive.

Thought you were doin'|a stretch in County.

I escaped 'cause I was|missin' your nasty little p*ssy, baby.

Shut up. Hook me up.|Come on, Jimmy, five bucks.

Give me five bucks|and I'll pay you back tomorrow, man.

What's the matter, baby?|Your spread ain't sellin'...

on account of you ain't takin' care|of the merchandise anymore?

- Hey, f*** you, Franchise.|- No, thanks.

Jimmy knows I'm sweet on him,|don't you, Jimmy?

That's my boy.

- Clean?|- Always.

- Right.|- That's my man.

Ooh! Me and Jimmy, one day|we's gonna have us a love child.

- Whatever.|- Ain't that right, Jimmy?

- Right.|- Hmm. Hey.

I gotta be goin'. The p*ssy posse's been|rollin' this neighborhood bustin' everybody.

Thanks for the money,|baby.

Better stay clean.

- She don't look good, Slick.|- No.

Needle track city, man. You shouldn't|go contributing to her collapse, man.

Give it a name. Lucinda'll|be dancin' in the breeze...

long after you and I|are takin' the dirt nap.

- Don't touch anything in here.|- Whatever.

I'm ready.

You still got that disease, Pieces?

Cut the sh*t with that!

It's Olden.|My name is Olden.

Always with this "Pieces" sh*t.|Have a little respect.

Whatever, man, I'm sorry.|Didn't mean nothin' by it.

Did they|find out what it is yet?

Naw. In fact, I lost|a toe the other day.

Believe that sh*t?|A toe?

I found a croaker downtown diagnosed it|as a circulatory problem,

a f***in' circulatory problem.

I want to kill the bastard, but I can't|get my f***in' fingers around his...

- Ahh.|- Ow. This is a bad beat, Olden.

Aw, give it a name.

You do your time.

You make an oath|to go right and rigid,

and this is how|you end up,

watching a bunch of raincoat types|kick their gongs around...

and losin'|motherfuckin' toes.

The Man... mentioned me|in particular?

Yes, he did.

- I haven't seen him in years.|- He likes you.

- Me?|- Oh, you're so hard.

- So? Are you in?|- Absolutely, Jim.

I'll use the dough|to get me a legit croaker,

diagnose my malady on the up-and-up|before I lose my dick.

We got a skull session tomorrow at|the Thick 'n' Rich. Can you make it?

Aw, sh...

I'm already there, baby.

- See ya.|- All right.

You're breakin'|my heart here, ol' Franny.

Good to see you, Olden.

I'm coming. I'm...

# But that train|keeps a-rollin' #

# On down to San Antone #

# When I was just a baby #

# My mama told me|Son #

# Always be a good boy|Don't ever play with guns #

# But I shot|a man in Reno #

# Just to watch him die #

# When I hear|that whistle blowin' #

# I hang my head and cry #

# Yeah #

Critical Bill, man,|what the f*** are you doin'?

Workin' out.|Don't bother him much.

What's the matter with you, man? Why|don't you show some respect for the dead?

I knew this guy when he was alive.|He was a mammy rammer.

- He don't mind much.|- Old Man Carlotti know you're doin' this?

Oh, he don't mind much.

Bill,

uh, we're doin' an action|for the Man With The Plan.

Small time, one night's work.|It's good for ten large. You want in?

- Ten large?|- Yeah.

Yeah.

Okay. I guess.

Good.

Critical Bill,|you still crazy, man?

'Cause you still crazy, I say you stay here|and you beat up on all your old friends,

'cause we don't need you,|Bill, if you're crazy.

I am what I am:

back of beyond,|right?

Same as always.|I'm in the back of beyond.

- Whatever.|- # And I'd let that lonesome whistle #

# Blow my blues away #

- # Yeah #|- They call him Critical Bill...

because he never went up|against a guy Bill didn't put...

the guy in a critical condition|at the very least.

But in the days, there never was|a better wing man when things got dange.

Boy's got equal parts piss,|pesticide...

and pure petroleum jelly|runnin' through those veins.

All right, the kid's comin' in at|approximately 10:00 p. m. on Highway 70.

Olden's gonna get us some uniforms,|and we already got a car.

Olden and me are gonna|pull the kid over.

Bill, you're gonna be with Jimmy|in the moving van.

Bring the kid there,|we scare him and that's it.

It is what it is.|Bottom line, we're playing cupid...

to an overweight, silver-spooned,|simpleton, child-molesting f***.

That's what it is, but it's good|for ten each. Nobody gets hurt.

Give it a name.|Anybody got any questions?

Ya got somebody|to keep the beat?

Funny you should mention that.

Everybody knows Easy Wind.

Look at this. Look at this!

All the pig brothers|from back in the day.

- Jimmy the Saint.|- Easy does it.

- Big bad Franchise.|- Easy Wind, my brother from another mother.

Pieces Polymeros.

Yeah.

Hey, man, nobody told me|about this booyah, man.

And nobody told me|I'd be humpin' with no inky-dink.

- All right, easy. Settle down.|- No, Jimmy, I can't roll with this.

- No f***in' way!|- Hey, watch your mouth!

- You boys used to be close.|- Yeah, 'til we ended up in jail together.

Homeboy turned out|to be a major-league fecal freak.

- What?|- Easy Wind spent his time in the joint raping kids.

- Better than being a fecal freak.|- What?

Fecal freak!|A brown boy!

- A f***in' dookey taster!|- Jive-ass n*gger-boy shine!

Who the f*** do you|think you are?

You son-of-a-b*tch!

Sit down, Bill! Sit down!

- Sit down! Sit down!|- Sit down, man!

Children here, man!|There are children here.

Sit down! Get down!|We're in a goddamn malt shop.

Sorry, Malt.

Sit down.

It's okay, kids.

Part of the show.

Nice.

Real nice.

F***in' sh*t eater.

Hey! Now settle down!

Motherf***er!

- Come on, come on, come on!|- Old friends gettin' together.

Watch out, Bill!

Kind of brings a tear|to the eye, don't it, fellas?

It's okay, kids.

- See ya around, Slick. Stay cool, Bill.|- Okay.

- What's up?|- Jimmy,

you know, uh, when we go out there,|you know, on the highway...

and we brace that kid?

I k... I would...|I would really like to be one...

- I would like to be one of the cops, Jimmy.|- No, Bill.

Jimmy. Damn it, Jimmy,|I'm 41 f***in' years old...

and they still call me|Critical Bill, you know?

I have really changed, man.|How do you think that makes me feel?

Billy. You're beating up|on corpses, Bill.

Well, that's the point, Jimmy.|That's the thing, man.

Doin' that with them... with them bodies,|I mean, that keeps my powder dry.

- Billy.|- It keeps my powder dry. It keeps my powder dry, Jimmy.

Listen to me. I haven't touched|a live person in years,

not since I started|that exercise program.

You know? I mean,|the prison shrinks told me...

I should find myself|a healthy and creative outlet.

- Well, I found it.|- Billy, I remember the things in the days. No.

Well, what do you mean,|a person can't change?

I mean, word is on the street|that you changed in a big way.

- How come nobody else can change but you?|- What happened inside, Bill?

Please, Jimmy.|Please let me.

Come on, man. Just once.

Olden does|all the talking.

- Okay, get out of here. Come on.|- Thank you, Jimmy.

- Yeah, okay. Let's go.|- Okay. All right. Thank you, Jimmy.

All right.|Don't be late.

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