Showing posts with label The Commode Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Commode Story. Show all posts

Wednesday 30 October 2019

Liar’s Poker — Clowns to The Left of Me, Jokers to The Right


We're just gonna sit here and bleed... 
'til Joe Cabot sticks his fuckin' head through that door. 




ORANGE :
Say 'Hello.' to a motherfucker Who's Inside. 
Cabot's doing A Job.
He wants Me on The Team

Control :
This better not 
be  A Joke. 

ORANGE :
This ain't A Joke.


I'm in. I'm up his ass
Nice Guy Eddie tells me Joe wants to meet me;  
He says I should just wait for a phone call -- 
After waiting three days he calls me last night 
and says Joe's ready.
He'll pick me up in 10 minutes.

Control :
Who picked you up? 

ORANGE :
Nice Guy. We get to a bar.

Control :
What bar? 

ORANGE :
Smokey Pete's in Gardena. 
We get there... and I meet Joe 
and a guy named 
Mr. White. Phony name.
My Name's Mr. Orange.

Control :
Mr. Orange?

ORANGE :
Mr. Orange. 

Control :
Okay, Mr. Orange.
You ever see this 
motherfucker before?

ORANGE :
Who? Mr. White? 

Control :
Yes. Mr. White. 

ORANGE :
No. He ain't one of Cabot's men either.
He's gotta be from out of town.
Joe knows him good.

Control :
How can you tell

ORANGE :
The way they talk.
You can tell they're buddies.

Control :
You two talk?

ORANGE :
Me and Joe? 

Control :
Mr. White.

ORANGE :
A little.

Control :
About what? 

ORANGE :
The Brewers. 

Control :
Milwaukee Brewers? 

ORANGE :
They won the night before.
He made some money off them. 

Control :
Good. If this crook's a Brewers fan
his ass has gotta be from Wisconsin. 
And I'll bet you everything. they 
got a sheet in Milwaukee on 
this Mr. White's ass. 

So I want you to go through everybody 
in Milwaukee with a history 
of armed robbery and put 
A Name to The Face.
Nice work, Freddy.

ORANGE :
Thank you, my man.

Control :
How was Long Beach Mike's referral?

ORANGE :
Perfect. His backing me up went a long way.
I told them I played poker with him. 
Nice Guy checked it out 
and said it was A-okay. 
Said I was a good Thief,
I didn't rattle... and that 
I was ready to move

He's a Good Guy.
I wouldn't be inside 
without him. 

Control :
No, noLong Beach Mike is not your friend
Long Beach Mike is a fucking scumbag

He's selling out his amigos --
That's how nice he fuckin' is. 

I'll take care of his ass... 
but you get that scumbag 
out of mind and Take 
Care of Business. 

ORANGE :
Gone

Control :
...........Use The 
Commode Story.


ORANGE :
What's The Commode Story?



Control :
It's a scene
Memorise it. 

ORANGE :
A what?



Control :
An undercover cop's 
gotta be Marlon Brando. 

To Do This Job, You gotta be 
a great actor, naturalistic
You gotta be naturalistic as hell

If You're a bad actor, that's 
bullshit in this job. 

ORANGE :
What is this? 

Control :
That's an amusing anecdote 
about a drug deal

Something funny that happened to you 
while you were Doing A Job. 

ORANGE :
I gotta memorise all this?
There's four pages of this shit. 



Control :
Think about it like it's A Joke. 
Memorise what's important.
The rest you make your own. 

You can Tell a 
Joke, can't you? 
Well, pretend you're Don Rickles, 
and Tell a Joke, all right? 

The things you gotta remember 
are the details. 
The details sell your story. 

This particular story takes place in a men's room. 
You gotta know all the details-- 

Whether they got paper towels 
or a blower to dry your hands. 
You gotta know if the stalls ain't got no doors or not. 
You gotta know if they got liquid soap or that pink, granulated shit... they used in high school. 
You gotta know if they got hot water or not, if it stinks... 
if some nasty, lowlife, scum-ridden motherfucker... sprayed diarrhea all over one of the bowls. 

You gotta know every detail there 
is to know about this commode. 

What you gotta do is take all 
them details and 
make 'em your own. 

While you're doing that, remember 
that this story is about you... 
and how you perceived the events 
that went down. 

The only way to Do That... is keep 
sayin' it... and sayin' it 
and sayin' it. 

ORANGE :
This is during the L.A. marijuana drought, 
I still had a connection, which was insane 'cause... 
you couldn't get any weed anywhere then. 
Anyway, I had a connection with this hippie chick in Santa Cruz... and all my friends knew it. 

They call me and say,
"Hey, Freddy--" 

*FAILED*

They say, 
"Hey, dude — You gettin' some? 
Can you get some for me too?" 

They knew I still smoked, so they asked me to buy some for them. 
It got to be-- Every time I bought some weed I was buyin' for four or five people.

 Finally I said, fuck this shit.
I'm makin' this bitch rich. She didn't even have to meet these people. 
I was doing all the work. 

That got to be a pain in the ass, people calling all the time. 
I couldn't even rent a tape without six fuckin' interruptions. 

"When's the next time you're gettin' some?" 

"Motherfucker!I'm tryin' to watch The Lost Boys!
When I get some, I'll call you." 

Then these rink-a-dink potheads come by. 

They're my friends and everything, but still-- I got it laid out in -dollar bags, they don't want dollars worth. 

They want ten dollars' worth, and breaking it up wasn't easy. 
I don't even know what ten dollars' worth looks like. 

This was a very weird situation. Remember back in ' ... there was a major fuckin' drought. 
Nobody had anything. People were livin' on resin, smokin' the wood in their pipes. 

This chick had a bunch and she's beggin' me to sell it. 

So I told her I wasn't gonna be Joe the pot man anymore... but I would take a little bit
and sell it to my close friends. 

She agreed and we kept the same arrangement as before-- ten percent and free pot for me... if I helped her that weekend. 

She was sellin' a brick of weed and didn't wanna go to the buy alone. Her brother usually goes with her, but he's in County unexpectedly. 

What for? His traffic tickets gone to warrant. 
They stopped him, found warrants on him, took him to County. 

She doesn't wanna walk around alone with all that weed. 
I don't wanna do this.
I have a very bad feeling about it. 
She keeps asking me, asking me. 

Finally I said okay 'cause I'm sick of hearing it. 

So we go to the train station--


JOE CABOT :
Wait. You're goin' to the train station with the weed on ya? 

ORANGE :
Yeah, The guy needed it right away. 
Anyway, we get to the train station... and we're waitin' for the guy. 

I'm carryin' the weed in a carry-on bag. 
I gotta take a piss, so I tell her I'm goin' to the boy's room. 
So I walk into the men's room and who's standing there? 
Four Los Angeles County sheriffs and a German shepherd. 


NICE GUY EDDIE :
They're waitin' for you?

ORANGE :
No, they're just four guys standing around in a Men's Room talkin'. 
And when I walked in, they all stopped talkin'... and they looked at me. 

JOE CABOT :
That's hard.
That's a fuckin' hard situation. 

ORANGE :
German shepherd starts barking. 
He's barkin' at me. I mean, it's obvious he's barkin' at me
Every nerve ending, all of my senses, the blood in the veins was screamin': 

"Take off, man. Just bail. Get the fuck outta there." 

Panic hits me like a bucket of water. Bam! 

Right in the face. I'm drenched in panic and these cops are lookin' at me and they know it. 

They can smell it,sure as that fuckin' dog can. They can smell it on me. 

"Shut up. So anyway,
I got my gun drawn. I point it at this guy
and I tell him... 

"Freeze.Don't fuckin' move." 

This little idiot's looking right at me and saying... 

"I know, I know." 

But meanwhile his right hand
is creepin' toward the glove box. I scream at him, 

"Asshole!
I'm gonna blow you away right now! 
Put your hands on the dash." 

He's still looking at me, nodding his head. "I know, buddy, I know." 

Meanwhile his hand is still
going for the glove box. And I said... 

"Buddy, I'm gonna shoot you
in the face... if you don't put your hands up." 

Then this guy's girlfriend, this real sexy Oriental bitch... she starts screaming at him:

"Chuck, what are you doin'? 
Listen to the officer!
Put your hands on the dash!" 

So then the guy snaps out of it and puts his hands on the dash. 

What was he goin' for? 

His fucking registration. 

You're kidding.


No, man! Stupid citizen doesn't know how closehe came to gettin' blown away. That close, man. 

JOE CABOT :
You knew how to handle that situation. 
You shit your pants, dive in and swim. 


Tell me more about Cabot. 

ORANGE :
I don't know. He's a cool guy. He's funny.
He's a funny guy. You remember the Fantastic Four? 

Yeah, with that invisible bitch... and "Flame on" and shit, right? 


ORANGE :
Thing. Motherfucker... looks just like the Thing. 


NICE GUY EDDIE :
Hey! Showtime! Grab your jacket.
I'm parked outside. 

ORANGE :
I'll be right down. 


NICE GUY EDDIE :
He'll be right down. 

ORANGE :
Don't pussy out on me now. 
They don't know. 

They don't know shit. 
You're not gonna get hurt.

You're fuckin' Baretta. 
They believe every fuckin' word 'cause you're super cool. 

There goes our boy. 
The guy has to have rocks in his head the size of Gibraltar... to work undercover. 

You want one of these?
Yeah, give me the bear claw. 




BROWN :
 Fuck. Jesus. I'm blind, man.
I'm fuckin' blind. 

ORANGE  :
No, you just got blood in your eyes. 
Is he dead? Did he die or not? 
Let's go. 


ORANGE :
Hold it! Get out! 
Get out of the fuckin' car! 

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, Larry. I can't believe she killed me. 
Who'd have fucking thought that? 


WHITE :
Hey, just cancel that shit right now. You're hurt.
You're hurt real fuckin' bad. 
But you ain't dying. All this blood's scaring the shit out of me, Larry. 
I'm gonna die. I know it. 


What the fuck happened? 

ORANGE :
He slashed the cop's face, cut off his ear and was gonna burn him alive. 

What? I didn't hear you. 

I said... Blonde went crazy. 
He slashed the cop's face, cut off his ear and was gonna burn him alive. 


This cop? 
He went crazy?
Something like that? 
Worse or better? 

Eddie, he was pulling a burn, man. 
He was gonna kill the cop and me. 

When you guys walked in, he was gonna kill you and run with the diamonds. 

What'd I tell ya? That sick piece of shit was a stone-cold psycho. 

You should've asked the cop, not just killed him. 

He talked about what he was gonna do when he was slicing him up. 


I don't buy it. Doesn't make sense. 

Makes perfect fuckin' sense to me. 
You didn't see how he acted during the job. 
We did. 

He's right.
The ear's hacked off. 

Let me just say this out loud, 'cause I wanna get this straight. 


You're saying that Mr. Blonde... was gonna kill you... 
and then when we got back he was gonna kill us... 
take the diamonds and scram. 
I'm right about that, right?
That's your story? 

ORANGE :
I swear on my mother's soul... that's what happened. 

The man you killed just got released from prison. 
He got caught at a company warehouse full of hot items. 
He could've fuckin' walked. 
All he had to do was say my dad's name, but he didn't; he kept his mouth shut. 
He did his fuckin' time like a man. 
He did four years for us. 
So, Mr. Orange... you're telling me that this good friend of mine... who did four years
for my father... who, in four years, never made a deal, no matter what they offered him... 
you're telling me 
that now that he's free... and we're making good on our commitment to him... 
he's just gonna decideout of the fucking blue... to rip us off? 
Why don't you tell me what really happened. 

JOE CABOT :
What the hell for? 
It'd just be more bullshit.



NARCISSIST:
What? Wait, wait.
You didn't tell him your name, did you?

WHITE :
I told him my first name and where I was from.

NARCISSIST:
Why?

WHITE :
I told him where I was from a few days ago.
It was just a natural conversation.


NARCISSIST:
What was tellin' him your name when you weren't supposed to?

WHITE :
He asked.
We had just gotten away from the cops.
He just got shot.
It was my fault he got shot.

He's a fuckin' bloody mess.
He's screamin'.
I swear to God, I thought he was gonna die right then and there.
I'm tryin' to comfort him, telling him 
"Not to worry...
Everything's going to be okay,
I'm gonna take care of him."
And he asked me what my name was.
I mean, the man was dyin' in my arms.
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
Tell him "I'm sorry? 
I can't give out that fuckin' information?
It's against the rules?
I don't trust you enough?"
Maybe I should've, but I couldn't.
Fuck you! Fuck Joe!



Wednesday 28 November 2018

All That I Have to Say Has Already Crossed Your Mind




“'All that I have to say has already crossed your mind,' said he.

“'Then possibly my answer has crossed yours,' I replied. 

And This Was How I First Met :

Tyler Durden.





“'You stand fast?' 

“'Absolutely.' 

“He clapped his hand into his pocket, and I raised the pistol from the table. But he merely drew out a memorandum-book in which he had scribbled some dates. 

“'You crossed my path on the 4th of January,' said he. 'On the 23d you incommoded me; by the middle of February I was seriously inconvenienced by you; at the end of March I was absolutely hampered in my plans; and now, at the close of April, I find myself placed in such a position through your continual persecution that I am in positive danger of losing my liberty. The situation is becoming an impossible one.' 

“'Have you any suggestion to make?' I asked. 

“'You must drop it, Mr. Holmes,' said he, swaying his face about. 'You really must, you know.'

“'After Monday,' said I. 

“'Tut, tut,' said he. 'I am quite sure that a man of your intelligence will see that there can be but one outcome to this affair. It is necessary that you should withdraw. You have worked things in such a fashion that we have only one resource left. It has been an intellectual treat to me to see the way in which you have grappled with this affair, and I say, unaffectedly, that it would be a grief to me to be forced to take any extreme measure. You smile, sir, but I assure you that it really would.' 

“'Danger is part of my trade,' I remarked. 

“'That is not danger,' said he. 'It is inevitable destruction. 

You stand in the way not merely of an individual, but of a mighty organization, the full extent of which you, with all your cleverness, have been unable to realize. 

You must stand clear, Mr. Holmes, or be trodden under foot.' 

“'I am afraid,' said I, rising, 'that in the pleasure of this conversation I am neglecting business of importance which awaits me elsewhere.' 

“He rose also and looked at me in silence, shaking his head sadly. 

“'Well, well,' said he, at last. 'It seems a pity, but I have done what I could. I know every move of your game. You can do nothing before Monday. It has been a duel between you and me, Mr. Holmes. 

You hope to place me in the dock. I tell you that I will never stand in the dock. 

You hope to beat me. I tell you that you will never beat me. 

If you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured that I shall do as much to you.' 

“'You have paid me several compliments, Mr. Moriarty,' said I. 'Let me pay you one in return when I say that if I were assured of the former eventuality I would, in the interests of the public, cheerfully accept the latter.' 

“'I can promise you the one, but not the other,' he snarled, and so turned his rounded back upon me, and went peering and blinking out of the room. 

“That was my singular interview with Professor Moriarty. 

I confess that it left an unpleasant effect upon my mind. His soft, precise fashion of speech leaves a conviction of sincerity which a mere bully could not produce. Of course, you will say: 'Why not take police precautions against him?' the reason is that I am well convinced that it is from his agents the blow will fall. 

I have the best proofs that it would be so.” 

“You have already been assaulted?” 

“My dear Watson, Professor Moriarty is not a man who lets the grass grow under his feet. I went out about mid-day to transact some business in Oxford Street. 

As I passed the corner which leads from Bentinck Street on to the Welbeck Street crossing a two-horse van furiously driven whizzed round and was on me like a flash. I sprang for the foot-path and saved myself by the fraction of a second. 

The van dashed round by Marylebone Lane and was gone in an instant. I kept to the pavement after that, Watson, but as I walked down Vere Street a brick came down from the roof of one of the houses, and was shattered to fragments at my feet. I called the police and had the place examined. 

There were slates and bricks piled up on the roof preparatory to some repairs, and they would have me believe that the wind had toppled over one of these. 

Of course I knew better, but I could prove nothing. 

I took a cab after that and reached my brother's rooms in Pall Mall, where I spent the day. Now I have come round to you, and on my way I was attacked by a rough with a bludgeon. 

I knocked him down, and The Police have him in custody; but I can tell you with the most absolute confidence that no possible connection will ever be traced between the gentleman upon whose front teeth I have barked my knuckles and the retiring mathematical coach, who is, I dare say, working out problems upon a black-board ten miles away. 

You will not wonder, Watson, that my first act on entering your rooms was to close your shutters, and that I have been compelled to ask your permission to leave the house by some less conspicuous exit than the front door.” 





Mycroft :
Do you? 

Sherlock :
Do I what? 
H-how did you get that? 
I left it at the crime scene. 

Mycroft :
"Crime scene"? 
Where do you pick up these extraordinary expressions? 
Do you miss him? 





Sherlock :
Moriarty is dead.

Mycroft :
And yet...? 

Sherlock :
His body was never recovered. 

Mycroft :
To be expected when one pushes a maths professor over a waterfall. 
Pure reason toppled by sheer melodrama. 
Your life in a nutshell. 

Sherlock :
Where do you pick up these extraordinary expressions? 

(HE SNIFFS) 

Sherlock :
Have you put on weight? 

Mycroft :
You saw me only yesterday. 
Does that seem possible? 

Sherlock :
No. 

Mycroft :
Yet, here I am, increased
What does that tell the foremost criminal investigator in England? 

Sherlock :
In England? 

Mycroft :
You're in deep, Sherlock, deeper than you ever intended to be. 
Have you made a list

Sherlock :
Of what? 

Mycroft :
Everything. We will need a list. 
Good boy. 

Sherlock :
No, I haven't finished yet. 

Mycroft :
Moriarty may beg to differ. 

(HE SIGHS) 

Sherlock :
He's trying to distract me. 
To derail me. 



Mycroft :
Yes. He's the crack in the lens, the fly in the ointment



The virus in the data. 

Sherlock :
I have to finish this. 

Mycroft :
If Moriarty has risen from the Reichenbach cauldron, he will seek you out. 

Sherlock :
I'll be waiting.

Mycroft :
Yes. I'm very much afraid you will..... 


Mrs. Hudson : 
Two days he's been like that. 

Lestrade :
Has he eaten? 


Mrs. Hudson : 
No, not a morsel. 

Lestrade :
Press are having a ruddy field day. 
There's still reporters outside. 

Mrs. Hudson : 
Oh, they've been there all the time, I can't get rid of them. 

I've been rushed off my feet making tea. 

Lestrade :
Why do you make him tea? 

Mrs. Hudson : 
I dunno, I just sort of — do. 

Lestrade :
He said, "There's only one suspect," and then he just walks away and now he won't explain. 
Which is strange, because he likes that bit. 

Said it was so simple I could solve it. 

Mrs. Hudson : 
I'm sure he was exaggerating. 


Lestrade :
What's he doing, do you think? 

Mrs. Hudson : 
He says he's waiting. 

Lestrade :
For what? 

Mrs. Hudson : 
The Devil. 

I wouldn't be surprised. 
We get all sorts here. 

Well, wire me if there's any change. 

Mrs. Hudson : 
Yeah. 

(CREAKING

(FOOTSTEPS


Lucifer :
Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind. 

Sherlock :
Then possibly my answer has crossed yours. 

Lucifer :
Like a bullet. 
. It's a dangerous habit, to finger loaded firearms in the pocket of one's dressing gown. 
Or are you just pleased to see me? 
(NECK CREAKS


Sherlock :
You'll forgive me for taking precautions. 

Lucifer : 
I'd be offended if you didn't. 
Obviously, I've returned the courtesy. 
(BARREL CLICKS
I like your rooms. 
They smell so... ..manly. 

Sherlock :
I'm sure you acquainted yourself with them before now. 

Lucifer :
Well, you are always away, 
on your little adventures for The Strand. 
Tell me, does the illustrator travel with you?
 Do you have to pose... during your deductions? 

Sherlock :
I'm aware of all six occasions you have visited these apartments during my absence. 

 Lucifer :
I know you are. 
By the way, you have a surprisingly comfortable bed. 

Sherlock :
Did you know that dust is largely composed of human skin? 

Lucifer :
Yes. Doesn't taste the same, though, you want your skin fresh. 
Just a little crispy. 

Sherlock :
Won't you sit down? 


Lucifer :
That's all people really are, you know, dust waiting to be distributed. 
And it gets everywhere. Ugh. 
In every breath you take, dancing in every sunbeam, all the used-up people. 

Sherlock :
Fascinating, I'm sure. 
Won't you sit... 

Lucifer :
People, people, people! 
Can't keep anything shiny. 

Do you mind if I fire this? 
Just to clean it out. 

Exactly, let's stop playing. 
We don't need toys to kill each other. 
Where's the intimacy in that? 

Sherlock :
Sit down. 

Lucifer :
Why? What do you want? 

Sherlock :
You chose to come here. 

Lucifer :
Not true, you know that's not true.
What do you want, Sherlock? 

Sherlock :
The Truth. 

Lucifer :
That. Truth's boring! 

You didn't expect me to turn up at the scene of the crime, did you? 
Poor old Sir Eustace. 
He got what was coming to him. 

Sherlock :
But you couldn't have killed him. 

Lucifer :
Oh, so what? Does it matter? 

Sherlock :
Stop it. Stop this. 

Lucifer :
You don't care about Sir Eustace, or the Bride, or any of it. 

There's only one thing in this whole business that you find interesting. 

Sherlock :
I know what you're doing. 
(RATTLING) 


Lucifer : 
The Bride put a gun in her mouth and shot the back of her head off and then she came back. 

Impossible. But she did it. 

And you need to know how. 
How? Don't you? 
It's tearing your world apart, not knowing. 

Sherlock :
You're trying to stop me... 
To distract me, derail me. 

Lucifer : 
Because doesn't this remind you of another case? 
Hasn't this all happened before? 
There's nothing new under the sun. What was it? 

What was it? What was that case? 
Huh? Do you remember? 
It's on the tip of my tongue. 
It's on the tip of my tongue. 
It's on the tip of my tongue. It's on the tip... ..of my tongue. 

Sherlock :
For the sake of Mrs. Hudson's wallpaper, I must remind you that one false move with your finger and you will be dead. 
(HE MUMBLES) 
I'm sorry? 

Lucifer : 
Dead... is the new sexy. 
(RUMBLING) 
(GUNSHOT) 

Well, I'll tell you what, that rather blows the cobwebs away. 

Sherlock :
How can you be alive? 

How do I look? Huh? 
You can be honest, is it noticeable? 

Sherlock :
You blew your own brains out, 
how could you survive? 

Lucifer : 
Or maybe I could backcomb. 


Sherlock :
I Saw You Die. 
Why aren't You dead

Because it's not The Fall that kills you, Sherlock. 
Of all people, you should know that
it's not The Fall, it's never The Fall. 
It's The Landing!