rul e numbe r one : don' t gra b half-dea d pi t bulls . w e hav e peopl e waitin g fo r us , peopl e wit h money , and you g o playin g cowboy -- no , dogboy -- i n middl e o f highway . mont y laughs , hi s han d presse d t o th e sid e o f hi s neck , bloo d leakin g betwee n hi s fingers .
yes , h a ha . you'r e ba d luck . yo u brin g ba d luc k o n me . alway s everythin g tha t ca n g o wrong , goe s wrong . i t i s no t jus t yo u an d m e whe n w e g o out , no , no , i t i s you , me , an d miste r doyle o f doyle' s law . mont y frowns .
who' s murphy ?
yes . him .
no , don' t tel l he r that ! mont y grin s an d punche s jakob' s arm .