and this goes to the roof?
if it don't i'm gonna' rip your tongue out.
you'n'me must be livin' right, butchie boy!
who said i liked you? butch slides down and hangs from the ledge before dropping on the roof of the building below.
gawd i'd love to blow yer' head off.
'night, larry.
hey, wait up! jerry's feet scurry through a pool of blood and past a quivering hand.
there's a buick.
ford's leak oil. a car's a car. butch puts on the brakes and brings the car to a stop.
soon as we cross state line i'll do just that. i'm tired of riding around. i'll check down the block.  for a ford! jerry gets out, slams the door, lights a cigarette and walks away. butch waits a few seconds, quietly turns the key one notch and checks the gas ggauge. it reads almost empty. he taps it with his finger but it doesn't budge. he sighs, looks up and sees.
as he checks one locked car, then feeling eyes on his back, turns, looks at butch, grins and disappears around a corner. butch discreetly exits the car himself, carefully closing the door without a sound.
i take mine fried.
a lil' on the bland side. gimme' that ketchup. she picks up a bottle of heinz and inches toward him. when she gets close, he grabs her and forces her onto his lap. he holds the gun to her throat and whispers in her ear.
don't got a man around here, do ya'?
feed me, sweet thing. her shaking hands raise a forkful of eggs to his lips. he licks them once then gobbles with gusto. phillip enters the room and stops dead in his tracks.
well lookie here, you do got a man! jerry smiles at phillip while he kisses and licks glady's neck. at once, phillip darts across the room at jerry, who backhands the boy with his gunhand, sending phillip sprawling. butch blasts through the door in an instant. with a swift kick to the head, jerry is knocked senseless onto the floor against the cabinets. the gun slides across the floor and lands at phillip's feet.
i'm bleedin'! you happy? butch gives jerry an icy stare and kneels down to eye level with phillip. butch looks at the gun and then at phillip.
give it to me.
you deaf?!!!
we gotta' get the hell outta'here!
shut up! in one fluid move he rips the phone from the wall. the silence is deafening.
i vote we bring her with us.
how we gonna' get outta' here without a hostage, tell me that? the whole goddam neighborhood's awake.
ain't you folks ever heard of sleepin' in?!!
why the hell we stoppin'?
so?
musta' moved. prolly' couldn't have heard 'em anyway. goddam ear's still bleedin'. you ever try that shit again.
what?
ain't a threat. it's a fact. butch reaches over, takes phillip's hand and places it on the steering wheel.
i'm gonna' kill you for that.
get beer.
what the hell?.
yer' a fuckin' crazy man.
you ever shot a gun before, boy? no answer. phillip steals a glance at the store, anxious for butch to return.
powww!!!.  it'll knock you on your ass.
naw. you ain't never shot no gun before. livin' in a house with three split tails.  no daddy around. you'll prolly' grow up queer, you know that? a bead of sweat rolls down phillip's cheek.
now i'm gonna' lean up here real slow, okay? so we can talk. jerry raises his hands, palms up and slowly leans forward in the back seat. phillip's hand quivers but he doesn't pull the trigger.
there we go. now we can have a 'man to man.' you are a man, ain't ya'?
those are cute little underwears you got there, boy. say does your mama sew yer' name in 'em, initials or anything? jerry's hand slowly reaches down to the white briefs. he places one finger in the front elastic waistband and slowly pulls it open.
whatcha' got in there? jerry sneaks a peek.
kinda' puny, ain't it? phillip, diverted, looks down. in a flash jerry grabs the gun.
the hand is quicker than the eye. jerry flicks open the revolver, spins it -- empty slots.
that sonofabitch. hell's bells, no shells.
come over a little closer. as jerry groans, phillip seizes the moment and bites jerry hard on the ear. jerry screams and drops the gun, which phillip picks up and carries with him as he scurries out of the car and into the hay field. jerry, in pain, now with both ears bleeding, crawls out of the back seat and gives chase.
no longer stumbling, now grinning maniacally, gives chase, whistling as if calling for a lost puppy.
i'm gonna' find you boy. you best come here.
a little frustrated now, but still moving forward.
hey boy. hey boy. you better hope i don't find ya'. he spots something -- a dash of color -- and begins to crawl faster. he parts a thick batch of hay and looks up into the gun barrel and eyes of .
whatcha' gonna' do? hit me with it? butch reaches into the coat pocket with his free hand and shows a shell or two. jerry's grin drops.
me'n you are friends!!!!