Frankie, tell Luca to go outside
and do You Know What.
Do you know Who I Am, Mr. Worley?
I give up. Who are you?
I'm The Antichrist. You got me in a vendetta kind of mood.
You tell The Angels in Heaven you've seen Evil so singularly personified...as you did in
The Face of The Man Who Killed You.
My name is Vincent Coccotti. I work as counsel for
Mr. Blue Lou Boyle,
The Man, Your Son, stole from.
I hear you were once A Cop,
so I can assume you have
heard of Us before.
Am I correct?
...I've heard of Blue Lou Boyle.
I'm glad.
Hopefully, that will clear up The
"How Full of Shit am I?" Question
you've been asking yourself.
We're gonna have a little Q and A.
And at The Risk of Sounding Redundant --
Please -- make your answers genuine.
You want a Chesterfield?
No.
I have a Son of My Own,
about your boy's age.
I can imagine, how painful
this must be for you.
But Clarence... and that
bitch-whore girlfriend of his
brought this all on themselves.
I implore you
not to go down that road with them.
You could always take comfort in
The Fact You Never Had a Choice.
Look, I'd like to help you if I could,
but I haven't seen Clarence.
You see that?
Ah, shit! Fuck!
Smarts, don't it?
To get slammed in The Nose.
Fucks you all up.
You get that pain
shooting through your brain.
Your eyes fill up with water.
That ain't any kind of fun.
But what I have to offer you,
that's as Good as it's gonna get.
And it won't ever get
that Good again.
We talked to your neighbors.
They saw A Cadillac.
Purple Cadillac.
Clarence's Purple Cadillac,
parked in front of Your Trailer yesterday.
Mr.Worley -
You Seen Your Son?
I've seen him.
I can't be sure... of how much
of what he told you, so...
in the chance you're in The Dark
about some of this,
let me shed some Light.
That whore Your Boy hangs around with,
her pimp is an associate of mine.
Among his pimping and other affairs --
he Works for Me, in a courier capacity.
Well, apparently, that dirty little whore found out we were gonna do some Business...
'Cause Your Son,
The Cowboy,
and His Flame...
came into The Room
guns blazing
and didn't stop...
Until they were pretty sure
everybody was dead.
What are you talking about?
I'm talking about A Massacre.
They snatched My Narcotics.
Hightailed it out of there.
Would have got away with it too,
but Your Son, fuck-head that he is,
left his driver's license
in the dead guy's hand.
.....You know --
I don't believe you.
That's of minor importance.
What is of major fucking importance,
is that I believe you --
Where did they go?
On their honeymoon.
(Low Growl)
I'm getting angry,
asking the same question
a second time.
Where did they go?
They didn't tell me.
You just wait a minute
and listen to me --
I haven't seen Clarence in Three years.
He shows up yesterday...
with a young girl,
saying that he got married.
He asked for, uh, some quick cash
to go on a honeymoon.
He asked me if he could borrow $500.
I felt like helping him,
so I wrote him out a check.
We went to breakfast in The Morning --
And that's the last I saw of him,
So Help Me God.
They never thought to tell me
where they were going....
And I never thought to ask.
No!
Don Vincenzo.
You Know -- Sicilians are Great Liars.
The Best in The World.
I'm Sicilian. My Father,
was The World Heavyweight
Champion of Sicilian liars.
From growing up with him,
I learned The Pantomime.
There are 17 different things a guy can
do when he lies to give himself away.
A guy's got 17 pantomimes.
A Woman's got 20.
A guy's got 17.
But if you know them
like you know your own face,
they beat lie detectors all to hell.
Now, what we got here is a
little Game of Show-and-Tell.
You don't wanna show me nothing,
but you're telling me everything.
I know You Know
where they are, so...
Tell me... before I do some damage
you won't walk away from.
Could I have one of those
Chesterfields now?
Sure.
You got a... match? No. Wait. No, no.
Don't bother. I got one.
You're Sicilian, huh?
Yeah. Sicilian.
You know... I read a lot,
especially about things --
about History.
I find that shit fascinating.
Here's a fact I don't know
whether you know or not --
Sicilians were
spawned by n*ggers.
....Come again?
No, it's-- it's a fact.
Yeah. You see, uh,
Sicilians have, uh,
Black Blood pumping
through their hearts.
If you -- If you don't believe
me, uh, you can look it up.
Hundreds and hundreds of
years ago, uh, you see, um,
The Moors conquered Sicily.
And The Moors are n*ggers.
You see, way back then, uh,
Sicilians were like, uh,
wops from northern Italy.
They all had blond hair
and blue eyes.
But, uh, well--
then the Moors moved in there, and...
well, they changed the whole country.
They did so much fucking
with Sicilian women...
that they changed the
whole bloodline forever.
That's why...
blond hair and blue eyes
became black hair and dark skin.
You know, it's absolutely amazing to me...
to think that to this day,
hundreds of years later,
that-- that Sicilians...
still carry that n*gger gene.
Now, this--
No, I'm quoting history.
It's written. It's a fact. It's written.
I love this guy.
No.
Your ancestors are n*ggers. Huh?
Hey.
Yeah.
And-- And your
great-great-great-great- grandmother
fucked a n*gger.
Yeah. And she had a half-n*gger kid.
Now, if that's a fact,
Tell Me -- am I lying?
'Cause you -- You're part eggplant.
Huh? Hey, hey, hey.
You're a cantaloupe.
That's beautiful.
I haven't killed anybody...
since 1984.
Go to this comedian's son's apartment.
Come back with something that
tells me where that asshole went...
so I can wipe this egg off my face.
Fix this fucked-up family for good.
Hey, boss.
Get ready to be happy.
