Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done...
on Earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread...
and forgive us our trespasses...
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation...
but deliver us from evil.
For Thine is the kingdom, the power...
and the glory now and forever.
- Amen. - Amen.
Thank you, Father Macklepenny...
for coming all the way across town to be our guest speaker.
When I raise my flashing sword...
and my hand takes hold on judgment...
I will take vengeance upon mine enemies.
And I will repay those who haste me.
O Lord, raise me to Thy right hand...
and count me among Thy saints.
And I am reminded on this holy day...
of the sad story of Kitty Genovese.
As you all may remember...
a long time ago, almost 30 years ago...
this poor soul cried out for help...
time and time again...
but no person answered her calls.
Though many saw...
no one so much as called the police.
They all just watched as Kitty was being stabbed to death...
in broad daylight.
They watched as her assailant walked away.
Now, we must all fear evil men.
But there is another kind of evil...
which we must fear most...
and that is the indifference...
of good men!
I do believe the monsignor's finally got the point.
Aye.
Hey, Conner!
What?
Yeah! Who's the master?
You're gonna be training her today.
Aye.
- Basically, the rule of thumb here is- - Wait. Rule of thumb?
In the early 1900s, it was legal for men to beat their wives...
as long as they used a stick no wider than their thumb.
Can't do much damage with that then, can we?
Perhaps it should've been the "rule of wrist."
I knew you two pricks would give me problems.
Come on. It's St. Patty's Day. It's all in good fun.
Ah, fuck you! And fuck you too!
We're sorry, all right? Just-Just relax.
Oh, shit.
Hey, fuck-ass, give me a beer.
Listen, boys, I've got some very bad news.
I'm gonna have to close down t-t-the bar.
The Russians are buying up buildings all over the town, includin' this one.
Fuck! Ass!
And they're not lettin' me renew my lease.
Let me talk to my boss.
- Maybe he can do something. - What the fuck's your boss gonna do?
Listen, fellas, I don't want anyone to know.
So you keep your traps shut!
You know what they say: People in glass houses sink s-s-ships.
Hey, Doc, I gotta buy you, like, a proverb book or somethin'.
This mix-and-match shit's gotta go.
What?
A penny saved is worth two in the bush, isn't it?
And don't cross the road if you can't get out of the kitchen.
What's this, then?
I am Ivan Checkov, and you will be closing now.
Checkov.
Well, this here's McCoy. We find a Spock, we've got us an away team.
Me in no mood for discussion. You, you stay.
The rest of you, go now.
Why don't you make like a tree and get the fuck out of here!
You know he's got till the week's end, right?
You don't have to be hard-asses, do ya?
- It's St. Patty's Day. Everyone's Irish tonight. - Mmm.
Why don't you just pull up a stool and have a drink with us?
This is no game! If you won't go...
We will make you go.
So these two guys are kickin' the shit out of each other, right?
This guy picks up an old kitchen sink or something...
and fuckin' crushes this guy with it.
It makes a big bang.
Look at him. His spine's all crushed. Had to be one big motherfucker.
Huge. Three, four hundred pounds. Fuckin' huge.
- That's pretty thin. - Very thin.
Okay. All right, all right.
Say these two guys right here, they don't even know the fuckin' huge guy.
They're just staggering home from a bar still all fucked up from St. Patty's last night.
They decide to take a shortcut down through the alley.
Wrong fuckin' alley, huh?
'Cause this big motherfucker, he's just waitin' for 'em, right?
And what could be more perfect for a strong-arm robbery? Two drunk guys all bandaged up.
They're already injured, for Christ's sakes. Look at 'em.
These guys are stumblin' through the alley.
This guy takes a blunt object, fuckin'-Waah!
Hits the guy with the bandages around his head, right? Why? 'Cause he's smart.
He knows the guy with the bandage around his ass, he ain't goin' nowhere.
He's goin' fuckin' nowhere!
Where are you goin'? Nowhere! That's right.
He ain't done yet. He comes over and jumps on this guy's back...
and crushes him to death.
I feel something big here.
I wouldn't be surprised to see a lot of these turnin' up.
Brilliant!
So now we got a huge guy theory...
and a serial crusher theory.
Top notch.
- What's your name? - Detective Greenly.
- Who the fuck are you? - That's who the fuck I am.
Listen, I gotta do this by the numbers.
I.D. Just came back on these guys.
They got connections with the Russian mob.
That makes it a federal matter.
And Agent Smecker here is heading up the investigation with our full cooperation.
- Why don't you get me a cup of coffee? - Who the hell is this?
- A café latte, twist of lemon... - What the fuck-
- Chief, what the fuck is this? - Sweet 'N Low.
Mitchell, Langley!
- Yes, sir. - Find the manager of this building.
See if he's had any complaints of water coming down...
in any of the apartments starting just this morning.
Langley, you take that building. Same thing.
Chaffey! Newman!
- Yes, sir. - Look in the trash around their hands.
See if you can find me two bullet casings...
fifty-caliber if my eyes serve me right.
Newman, rip through this shit.
If this was a sink...
find me some metal parts.
Give me a drain cover, faucet or something.
Got it right here. It's a 50-cal.
Chief, can you get ballistics down here...
and tell 'em they have to dig a 50-caliber slug...
out of a brick wall and locate another that's been fired through a Dumpster?
We have the best ballistics guy in the world.
- I can have him here in ten minutes. - How did you know that?
Liquid paraffin.
Came up positive.
And bullet holes are usually a big clue.
Nobody reported any gunshots.
This is an Irish neighborhood. I'm surprised you even got a phone call.
You know, I can't find the second one, sir.
Look under the body.
Oh, yeah, there it is.
You guys ready for this?
This was no gangland assassination.
Though creative, it was way too sloppy.
Something went wrong here. This has "personal" written all over it.
Agent Smecker. Yeah, this is all illegal loft housing.
There's no manager on the premises, but they found a lady on the fourth floor...
who said she had water dripping down on her whole place.
- It started just this morning. - Fourth floor, huh?
Mm-hmm.
Then we're headin' to the fifth.
Come on. Let's get out of here. You're reachin', man.
- It's a theory. - I don't know. No way.
You know how big a guy's gotta be to do that? Fuckin' huge.
Oh, really? I might just be wantin' a bagel with my coffee.
I ain't gettin' him no fuckin' bagel.
We'll start the ass kissing with you.
Agent Smecker. Agent-
Listen, I know this neighborhood pretty good.
There's a bar down the block named McGinty's.
- It stands a good chance they were there last night. - Good work, Mitchell.
I'll check it out myself.
Look at the ceiling. Sense of touch alone.
Wait until you feel me move. Ooh.
So quick you couldn't even feel it go, could you?
Let's try it again. Try it again. Look at the ceiling.
It's Doc.
- Thanks for comin', Doc. - Jesus Christ!
What the fuck happened? Are-Are you b-b-boys all right?
- We're alive. - An F.B.I. Agent came by the bar...
and he left me his c-c-ca-
He left me his c-c- Oh, he fuckin' gave me this. Fuck!
- Ass! What are you gonna do?
We oughta turn ourselves in, tell him it was self-defense.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's what he said.
- How the fuck's he know that? We haven't spoken to anyone. - D-D-Don't know.
He d-d-didn't say.
All right. Listen, Doc, we need you to do us a favor.
- A-A-Anything. - Just hold on to this for us.
- We're gonna come back for it when we get out. - Right.
Fuck! Ass!
None of that cursing was directed at you. He's- He's a bit-
First of all...
I'd like to thank whichever one of you...
doughnut-munching, barrel-assed...
pud-pulling sissies leaked this to the press.
That's just what we need now-
some sensational story in the papers...
making these boys out to be superheroes triumphing over evil.
Let me squash the rumors now.
These two are not heroes.
They're just two ordinary men...
who were put in an extraordinary situation...
and they just happened to come out on top.
Yes, nothing from our far-reaching computer system...
has turned up diddly on these two.
All we know is what we found out from the neighbors.
And the general consensus is...
they're angels.
But angels don't kill.
And we got two bodies in the morgue...
that look like they've been serial-crushed...
By some huge, friggin' guy.
Are we considering these guys armed and dangerous?
Well, not armed.
If they had guns, they would've used them. But dangerous? Very.
Now, what makes you think they're dangerous?
Maybe they're just protectin' each other.
Hey, look, I-I-I'm not sayin' one way or the other.
Just be careful and go by the protocol on this.
It's grunt police work that's gonna bring this one in.
These guys are miles away by now.
But if you wanna beat your head against the wall, then here's what you're lookin' for.
They're scared, like two little bunny rabbits.
Anything in a uniform or flashing blue lights is gonna spook 'em.
Okay? So the only thing we can do is put a potato on a string...
and drag it through South Boston.
Thanks for comin' out.
You'd probably have better luck with a beer.
You would.
- Oh, fuck. - Hey, Greenly.
Onion bagel, cream cheese.
This conversation is going to be recorded.
Just answer to the best of your knowledge.
Excuse me, sir. Please.
Okay, we're ready.
You boys are not under oath here. Just answer the questions.
I'm assuming...
you knew these guys from before, huh?
We met them last night.
They had some pretty interesting bandages.
Know anything about that?
Listen, if you want to fight, you can see you're outnumbered here.
We're trying to be civil, so I suggest you take our offer.
I make the offers.
Hey, Boris.
What would you do...
if I told you...
your pinko Commie mother sucks so much dick...
Her face looks like an egg?
- Fuck you! - What are you doin'?
Stay away! He can take care of himself!
Freeze, you fuckin' Irish faggots!
Get the fuck up!
- Come on! - Get your fuckin' hands off of me!
Cuff yourself around the back! Cuff yourself!
Cuff it!
You know why I fucking come here?
I come here to kill you.
But now, I no think I fucking kill you.
I kill your brother.
Shoot him in the head.
- Fuck you! - Gotta go.
Conner!
It was just a fuckin' bar fight! You guys are fuckin' pussies!
I hope your conscience is clear, Irishman.
So, how is it...
- that you guys are fluent in Russian? - We paid attention in school.
Do you speak any other languages?
- Aye. Our mother insisted on it. - French?
Oh, that's beautiful.
- What's that? - It's Italian.
- Jawohl.
What are you guys doin' workin' at a friggin' meat packing plant?
- Uh, Agent Smecker? The press is everywhere. - Yeah.
They're just goin' nuts for these guys. I don't know what you wanna do.
You're not being charged. It's up to you. You wanna talk to 'em?
- Absolutely not. - No pictures either.
Is there any way that we could stay here?
Uh, yeah. You know, we have an extra holding cell you guys can-
- Can they stay? - Well, we'll have to check with your mom.
But it's okay with me if your friends sleep over.
Time to feed the dogs.
Okay, people. Okay.
This is our official statement.
The MacManus brothers are not being charged with a crime.
This is a clear-cut case of self-defense.
They are being released at an undisclosed time and location...
in accordance with their wishes.
- Do the MacManus brothers have any priors? - Can we speak to the brothers?
- Hey, Rocco, how you doin'? - Hey!
Yeah!
What have you got there?
- Ahh. - Very nice.
This poor soul...
cried out for help.
They watched as he simply walked away.
Indifference of good men!
Nobody wanted to get involved.
Nobody-
- Whosoever shed man's blood...
By man shall his blood be shed.
For in the image of God may deem a man.
Destroy all that which is evil.
So that which is good may flourish.
What the fuck is that?
It's that fuckin' Russian's pager.
Let's go.
How are ya?
- Keep the faith, man. - Fuckin' blow me.
- What was that? Have you got a pen? - Yeah. Here you go.
- Thanks. Be right back. - Good morning, son. How are ya?
- Good morning. - We'd be honored if you would join us.
- See this? - What's this?
Saints?
Body of Christ. Body of Christ.
Amen.
That's not funny, man. Give it here, package boy.
Joey Beevo said it was important. Said to give it to him myself.
Give me the fuckin' thing.
Sit the fuck down.
So, I'm Rocco. I'm the funny man.
I'm so fuckin' funny.
- Fuck you, Vincenzo. - Uh-huh.
How did you get that shiner on your eye?
What's the matter, someone didn't think you were very funny?
I caught your show at the Velvet Room at the Holiday Inn.
Loved it when you busted into "Viva Las Vegas."
Hey, hey, hey.
You insignificant little fuck!
I always get my money, you cocksucking bastardo!
The '90s are killing me.
I shouldn't have done that.
You're not supposed to tell a guy you're gonna kill him no more.
I gotta tiptoe through the tulips with these assholes.
Taking all the fun out of the job.
Pappa Joe, you want me to go now?
All the boys tell me how you make them laugh when you come around.
What a crackup you are. What do they call you?
Uh, the-
The-The funny man.
The funny man.
I'm having a shitty day. I'm depressed.
Tell me a funny joke.
Now?
A joke? Uh-
Um, uh, a joke. Yeah, all right.
Um, there's these, uh, three guys-
a-a-a spic...
a-a-a white guy and a black guy.
- Nigger! - Yeah.
N-N-Yeah. And they're walkin' along the beach.
They see this pot. They rub it, a genie comes out.
Genie says you can wish for anything you want. He asks the Mexican what he wants.
And he goes...
"I want all my people in America to be happy and free in Mexico."
So the genie- Poof! And all the spics are in Mexico.
- And then he asks the black guy- - Nigger.
Yeah, that's what I said.
He goes to the nigger, says, "What do you want?"
And he goes...
"I want all my African-
"my nigger brothers in America...
to be back in Africa and happy and everything."
So the genie goes poof!
And, um, all the niggers in America...
are in Africa.
And this is goin'- I'm not funny today.
I know. I'm havin' a hard day. I-I-This joke sucks.
It's just a stupid joke.
Continue the joke.
So the genie says to the white guy...
"What's your one wish?"
And the white guy goes, "You mean to tell me...
all the niggers and spics are out of America?"
The genie goes, "Yeah." He says...
"Well, um, I'll have a Coke then."
"I'll have a Coke."
Yeah. Everybody's out...
so he just wants a Coke, 'cause that's all he needs.
- Tell me one more. - What?
Knock yourselves out.
Fuckin' hell.
- Do you know what we need, man? Some rope. - Absolutely.
- What are ya, insane? - No, it ain't.
Charlie Bronson's always got rope.
- What? - Yeah.
He's got a lot of rope strapped around him in the movies, and they always end up using it.
- You've lost it, haven't it? - No, I'm serious.
That's stupid. Name one thing you'd need a rope for.
You don't fuckin' know what you're gonna need it for. They just always need it.
What's this "they" shit? This isn't a movie.
Oh. Right.
Is that right, Rambo?
All right. Get your stupid fuckin' rope.
I'll get my stupid rope.
I'll get it.
There's rope right there.
You nervous?
- A bit. - Myself as well.
Hello?
Uh-huh. Room number?
Have we got a time of death?
We got a body count?
Uh-huh. I'll be down there in a bit.
Keep the press out.
- What are you doin'? - I just wanted to cuddle.
Cuddle? What a fag.
Ooh.
This is a fucking slaughterhouse.
- How many bodies, Greenly? - Eight.
Aw, shit. I forgot about that one. Nine. Nine?
While Greenly's out gettin' coffee, anybody else want anything?
Shit!
So, Duffy...
you got any theories to go with that tie?
Look, fuck all these other guys.
This was their target- the fag man.
The what man?
The fat man.
Well, Freud was right.
So you think they came for the fag man, huh?
What do you base this upon?
He was the only one done right. Double tap back of the head.
- And the pennies? - New hit man wants to leave his mark.
That's a possibility.
Now you Irish cops are perkin' up.
That's two sound theories in one day...
neither of which deal with abnormally-sized men.
Kind of makes me feel like Riverdancing.
Another possibility is they were placed there with religious intent.
Okay, some cultures still put pennies in the eyes of the dead. Or silver.
The Italians, the Greeks.
Sicilians.
So, what's the "symbology" there?
The "symbology"?
Now that Duffy has relinquished his King Bonehead crown...
I see we have an heir to the thrown.
I'm sure the word you were looking for was "symbolism." What is the symbolism there.
Let me explain it to you.
In Greek and Roman mythology...
when you died, you'd have to pay the toll to Charon...
the boatman who ferried you across to the Gates of Judgment.
This made sure the dead came to atone for what they did during their lives...
Detective Alapopskalius.
Jesus. You're the first one that ever got that.
Yeah, well, I'm an expert in nameology.
These burns indicate that they used silencers.
Look at these entry and exit wounds.
They're almost identical.
The two bullets went in here through the top of the skull...
crisscrossed, and exited through the eyeballs.
This one clue tells us three distinct facts.
- Number one. Duffy? - They shot him at a downward angle.
- They put him on his knees? - Excellent. Number two. Greenly.
They shot him at a downward angle?
It tells us he was the last to die.
And number three. Dolly.
There was two shooters.
- Fan-freakin'-tastic. - Hey, wait a minute.
Stay with me, boys. What did they do...
to make two such identical wounds?
Two men of similar height dropped this guy down.
Each puts some iron to his head and boom! That's all she frickin' wrote.
- What about one guy, two guns? - Ah, possible.
But unlikely. The angles are too extreme.
A guy holding two guns to the back of your noodle is going to shoot straight ahead.
He wouldn't cock out his elbows. It makes no sense.
Besides, are you telling me one guy came in here...
and killed eight men with eight extremely well-aimed shots in just a few seconds?
No way. It had to be at least two.
You and your fuckin' rope.
- I told you there would be a shaft. - Just like on television.
Fuck.
Where the fuck are you goin'?
Shh! I fuckin' hear some shit out here.
Fuck you. I'm sweatin' my ass off draggin' your fuckin' rope around.
- It must weigh 30 pounds. - Shh!
We are doin' some serious shit here. Now, get a fuckin' hold of yourself!
Oh, fuck you! I'm not the rope-totin' Charlie Bronson wannabe...
- that's gettin' us fuckin' lost. - Would you fuckin' shut it?
You mother-
- Jesus fuckin' Christ. - Oh, shit!
Shepherds we shall be for Thee, my Lord, for Thee.
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand.
Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command.
So we shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be.
And I shall count thee among my favored sheep.
And you shall have the protection of all the angels in heaven.
Television.
Television is the explanation for this.
You see this in bad television.
The little assault guys creepin' through the vents, comin' in through the ceiling.
That James Bond shit never happens in real life. Professionals don't do that.
Well, name one thing you're gonna need this stupid fuckin' rope for.
- That was way easier than I thought. - Aye.
On TV, you've always got that guy that jumps over the sofa.
- And then you've gotta shoot him for ten fuckin' minutes too. - Aye.
- Christ. We're good. - Yes, we are.
Now, what do you think is in that little case there?
- Fuck me! - Oh.
The hits just keep on comin'.
Ow! Give it a smell.
I love our new job.
Bastard. This has got to be his big break.
- Yeah. - We've got to fuck with him, right?
Okay.
Shh.
Open the door. I'm gonna grab him by the fuckin' hair.
Sit down!
- Get down! Shut up! - Don't shoot! Don't shoot!
- We're on the same side. Please, don't shoot. - Get on the ground!
Don't shoot, don't shoot. We're on the same side.
Boss must've sent me in as backup. I'm Rocco!
- I'm the funny man. That ain't my name. - Where's your gun?
- I'm the fuckin' funny man! It's right here. Right here.
That ain't my real name.
What the fuck? Jeez!
It's a fuckin' six-shooter!
There's nine bodies, genius!
What the fuck were you gonna do, laugh the last three to death, funny man?
Pappa Joe said there was only two! In and out!
Boy, you guys sure did a good job.
Ah, shit. You guys are good, huh?
Cool masks. Where'd you get 'em?
- We gotta do him right here! - Right now!
- Don't, please! I'm the funny man! - Right.
- Don't kill me! Don't kill me, please! - Right!
I'm the funny man!
What a fuckin' idiot!
Fuckin'-What the fuckin' fuck- Who the fuck-
Fuck this fuckin'- How did you two fuckin' fucks- Fuck!
Well, that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word.
All these guys are Russian mob.
But not like those two peons in the alley the other day.
These guys are all syndicate bosses and underbosses.
I have a dossier on every man in this room.
Since the Iron Curtain has gone down...
the Russian syndicates have started to come here.
And in the spirit of Glasnost, the Soviets have opened their borders to the Mafia.
But the Italians, they aren't convinced...
the grounds in Mother Russia are fertile enough for organized crime yet.
So they ain't ready to commit. But the Russians are coming here anyway.
They are unwelcome.
So, what we have here, gentlemen...
is possibly the beginning...
of the first international mob war.
Unless I've totally missed something.
I'm live from the Copley Plaza Hotel...
where we have just been informed that the largest multiple murder...
in Boston's history has just taken place.
We have learned that there were nine victims...
all deeply involved in a notoriously violent Russian crime syndicate...
right here in Boston.
Anybody you think is evil?
Aye.
Don't you think that's a little weird, a little psycho?
Do you know what I think is psycho, Roc?
It's decent men with loving families.
They go home every day after work, and they turn on the news.
You know what they see? They see rapists...
and murderers and child molesters.
They're all gettin' out of prison.
Mafiosos...
gettin' caught with 20 kilos...
gettin' out on bail the same fuckin' day.
And everywhere, everyone thinks the same thing-
that someone should just go kill those motherfuckers.
Kill 'em all. Admit it.
Even you've thought about it.
You guys should be in every major city.
This is some heavy shit.
This is like "Lone Ranger" heavy, man.
Fuck it! There's so much shit that pisses me off!
You guys should recruit, 'cause I'm sick and fuckin' tired...
of walkin' down the street waitin' for one of these crack-pipin'...
ass-wipin', motherless lowlifes to get me!
Hallelujah, Jaffar.
So you're not just talkin' about mob guys, right?
You're talkin' about pimps and drug dealers and all that shit, right?
Oh, yeah.
Fuck. You guys could do this every goddamn day.
We're sort of like 7-Eleven.
We're not always doin' business, but we're always open.
- Mmm. That is nicely put. - Thank you very much.
I will fuck you up, dude.
So then we go right through the fuckin' ceiling like this-
Oh, boy. You fuckin' guys. You ruined me.
I'm fuckin' done.
Permanent fuckin' package boy.
Who said that? You can take credit on that, you know?
What, are you serious?
Yeah. Fuck it.
If you think about it, it's all you can do, really.
I mean, you can't go in there and tell him it was us.
Climb the corporate ladder, boy.
Don Rocco.
Fuck it.
I'm doin' it. I deserve it.
I've been workin' for those fat bastards since I've been in high school.
Look at this fuckin' place. They're fuckin' me, man.
They can suck my pathetic little dick!
And I'll dip my nuts in marinara sauce...
just so the fat bastards can get a taste of home while they're at it.
Fuck it! I'm doin' it.
It is done! Shit!
- Shit! Shit! - Oh, my God!
- What the fuck! - I'm hit!
Oh, fuck!
What the fuck!
I can't believe that just fuckin' happened!
- Is it dead? - Oh, my God!
Donna's gonna be angry about her cat.
Shit.
She's on every drug known to man.
She'd have sold the thing for a dime bag. Screw her.
I do kind of feel like an asshole, though.
Yeah, Roc, you sound real remorseful there.
She ain't been around in weeks anyhow.
Listen, something's been botherin' me about last night.
What?
What if your boss knew how many fellows were supposed to be there?
- What are you-What are you sayin'? - Think about it.
Nine men, six bullets.
Think they sold me out? No way. No way.
Listen, he probably knew you'd end up nailin' the fat guy...
maybe one or two more, but he had to know you weren't walkin' out of there.
Figure it out. The shooter's dead at the scene.
There's no in-depth investigation.
They'll just slide right off his fuckin' back.
'Cause what the fuck?
As much as I love you, man, you are not exactly Don Corleone.
No, no, that-
That's just not the way things are done. Besides, how does he know...
I just don't get in there, see there's too many of 'em, serve 'em their fuckin' food-
Because he fuckin' knows you, Roc!
A smooth hitter would have gone in there, seen it was a fuckin' wash and slipped out.
But you, he knows this is your only shot.
You've been waitin' 18 fuckin' years.
No. No, no. That-That-
That just ain't the way- No, that's bull-That's bullshit.
You don't know what you're talkin' about. That's just not the way things happen.
I mean, thanks for your concern and all, but that just ain't the thing of it.
Do me a favor, all right? Just roll it around a bit on your way in.
- Will you for me? - No. No rollin'.
Nothin' needs to be rolled. Fuck!
- Where the fuck are you goin'? Did you tell him? - Of course I fuckin' told him.
- Then what the fuck? - You guys don't know that shit for sure!
Oh, you're such a fuckin' retard!
- Hey, fuck you! - Oh, man, use your fuckin' brain for once!
Is it so unbelievable that they don't fuckin' care about ya?
Oh, yeah, you two fuckin' micks know what's goin' on, huh?
- Fuck you both! - This is not a fuckin' thing you should gamble on, all right?
I'm the fuck out of here.
Fine! Fuck it!
What kind of flowers you want at your funeral, you dumb wop?
- It's the last time I'm gonna see ya! - I'll be back at nine!
- Bury the fuckin' cat! - Listen, you get in there...
and you start gettin' a bad vibe, you get the fuck out quick!
Hello?
- Murph. - Hey, Roc. You okay?
Anybody call for me?
No, man. Are you sure you're okay?
I'm fuckin' fine.
I'll catch you on the flip side.
Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.
Pack your shit! Pack your shit! We gotta get out of here!
- We gotta get out! - What the fuck are you talkin' about?
I killed them! Oh, Jesus, I killed them all!
- Just calm down. Tell us what happened. - No!
- Rocco! - Calm down, man.
Fuck you! You start gettin' excited, motherfucker!
- We gotta go! - Rocco!
- Well, how many were there? - Fuckin' hurry the fuck up!
All right! I love this shit!
- What the fuck is wrong with you, Roc? - The cocksucker sold me out!
Didn't I tell you, Roc? Did they pull on you first?
What am I doin'? In the middle of the Lakeview!
Lakeview the deli, Roc?
- Looks like we got us a new fuckin' recruit. - Rocco!
- What? - Where's my cat?
I killed your cat, you druggie bitch.
- God. Why? - What?
I felt it would bring closure to our relationship.
- You killed my-my- - Your what?