aye.
knew of him. everybody did. a regular mother theresa. youth hostels, soup kitchens. even made it into the newspapers sometimes.
why are his hands chained?
connor.
that's if you're gettin' raped.
the prodigal son, huh? he wants us, he's fuckin' got us.
think about it. people figure we did it. makes it more likely someone will drop a dime. way easier to get to us in prison, isn't it, now.
you don't remember those sketches on the news channel?
just our luck. we get leonardo fuckin' divinci as a sketch artist.
what?
what color would you dye it?
y'mean. blonde?
california, surfer boy, gay, gay blonde?!
just keep your hands off my ass back there and, "stay gold, pony boy."
aaaaah!
you motherfucker!
and an awesome wailing was heard throughout heaven.
and as almighty god created you. he now calleth you home.
ooops. busy signal. we'll hafta calleth back.
no.
how dare you, sir, insinuate such a thing? the fact that you're a greasy spic's got nothin' ta do with it.
it's not that simple.
s'pose you're right. i'd sorta hoped we were a little more artistic than that.
oh, no.
we'll go after all yakavetta's people and operations till we get to the man himself.
well, i don't suppose we have a succinct plan, y'know, per se.
let's follow 'em down the rabbit hole, alice.
the only way i could be more embarrassed right now is if i was ridin' a moped.
yeah. rollin' through the gym at my high school reunion.
o'kay, here's the plan.
we skin out, go ta doc's for a shot of irish. we're home in time for tacos.
what?
now, dat's the spirit.
you can consider yourself a fuckin' pledge until we say different.
that's what you get. is there a problem?
i think yakavetta murdered a good man just to send us a message.
scram!
shut up and get behind the fuckin' wheel!
go fuck y'rself.
it's heroin.
fuck you. i know shit.
he can't see where he's goin'!
go left! go left!
i didn't notice you throwin' out any ideas, ya creative asshole!
brakes! brakes! brakes!
sound as an irish pound, doc.
what are you, fucking five years old?
we'll see, old man.
would somebody please come over here and.
me up the.
mucho corazon.
shut up. romeo's crying.
what? no.
aye.
oh. that's fuckin' harsh.
you, sir, are no david della rocco.
we're developin' quite the cult following in the old neighborhood.
lovely voice. we'd like ya ta sing for us. what do ya say? george struggles and nods. murphy hops off. george spills out, hot pink speedos. on all fours and breathing heavy.
where's yakavetta hidin'?
you meeting someone tonight, george?
what's this?
yeah. you could set off fourth of july fireworks in dat place and nobody would hear. how's mexican for you, george?
stick it out. waitin' on one more.
the gang's all here.
we'll let god decide if you get a second chance.
well, praise the lord.
george? all good boys go to heaven. george nods and exits. romeo is confused as our trio gathers. connor tosses the bullet he palmed to romeo and he nods.
well, thank you very much. mysterious ways. mysterious ways.
drop the gun! drop it!
who are ya?
aye. you have our condolences.
how are the lads?
what's that?
what? ya don't call. ya don't write.
so, where'd you learn ta shoot like that?
this is the guy?
the pru.
dat's where the man is so dat's where we're goin'. no guts no glory, green beans.
y'sure you don't wanna hear the plan? i'm not tryin' ta brag or nothin' but this one's a real picasso.
hey.
you think maybe we got another fox in the hen house here?
yeah. charlie. and i want an oompa loompa now, daddy, now.
nothin'.
out with it! what the hell's the matter with ya?
ya did fine at your uncle's place.
this is not the time for you to be absorbin' shit! now, if ya freeze up when you get in there just point yer gay guns at 'em and fer christ sakes, at least try ta look cool!
this is you. be on time.
you ready fer dis shit, my dear brother?
creative! it's a creative plan!
it happens ta be a useful thing!
the "eiger sanction," clint eastwood! and it worked like a fucking charm for him!
what the fuck?
how much time?!
if we're even a few seconds late, romeo's dead! we gotta go! we're down thirteen stories!
whup ass fajita?
you said it.
soon as he's done apologizin' to his uncle for wreckin' his restaurant.
one in the hole.
doc! call da fuckin' ambulance! as they hold greenly and beg him to hold on, we move to poppa m standing over crew cut. crew cut looks up at him in awe.
hang in there, brother. they're comin'.
i'm gonna blow this mother fucker's brains out, right now!
so. how'd ya end up inside, da?
why didn't ya flip on him? cut down yer time? the guy fucked ya.
why the hell not?
do you know louie's full name?
it's me. put eunice on. connor hands the phone to poppa m. dissolve to.
you're sure, roc? you know this?
while the wicked stand confounded.
oh, no, no, no.
e fili.