Bookie

Uh... (stammers)

- I can explain. - Oh, you hear that, Ray?

He's gonna explain.

Go ahead, once upon a time...

- I fucked you. - You sure did.

But here we are, Greg.

- Uh, it's Gregory. - Ow.

Greg's fine.

Man, where the fuck is our money?

If I tell you,

what-what's to stop you from killing me?

Face it, gentlemen, I still have

the upper hand... (screams)

Hey, eat your fucking flan.

The only thing keeping you alive is that

we are not by nature violent men.

Well, I did play NFL football.

- Did you kill anyone, Ray? No.

So I can continue?

The point is, we'll probably be clumsy about your demise.

- It could take days. The novices that we are.

Or you can give us our money and we can go our separate ways.

Oh, they're always accusing us of breaking kneecaps.

Maybe we should try it once.

You're right. You know when you're right, you're right.

That said... we don't

want him coming out better than he was.

You mean like those titanium knee replacements?

Oh, they're amazing.

I mean, they have you walking

right after surgery.

Fine, we'll just crush your nuts.

There you go!

So what do you say?

I'm renting a villa down the street.

Can you just say "house," asshole?

I'm renting a house down the street.

- That's where your money is. - That's better.

Let's take a walk while you still can.

How'd you guys find me?

I thought I covered my tracks pretty well.

Genius, you rented a villa

in the offshore gambling capital of the universe.

You know, they have a monkey sanctuary here.

I-I gave them a little bit of your money.

So I did hear a monkey.

Hey, what up, boys?

- God. - Not a good time, fellas.

Oh, now you've piqued my interest.

So what's the, uh, what's the story on Bazooka Joe here?

He owes us a little money.

The day of reckoning.

Hey, I got a gun. You guys need a gun?

No. No guns.

You know what, I'll just stay close

in case you change your mind.

You hear that?

Your money made that possible.

Just open the door, dipshit.

Ah, this is a lovely villa.

Oh, thank you. Villa.

All right, where is it?

Hang on, these two... gentlemen were not

- part of the agreement. - What's the agreement?

Could you please step outside so we can do this?

- Oh, come on, we're all friends here. - Yeah.

- (Danny sighs) - He gives us our money back?

"Back"? This ain't a guy who welched on a bet?

- Not exactly. - Well, then what exactly?

- He stole it from us. Oh!

Well, how much?

$3 million.

- (chuckles) - (whimpers)

- Jesus! - I mean, what the fuck?!

I'm sorry, but somebody had to do it.

No, they didn't.

Now we don't know where the money is.

Oh, yeah.

Well, I guess we got to toss the place.

What do you mean "we"?

This is our money he stole.

And yet I'm the one holding the murder weapon.

- You got anything? - Yeah.

You rush the sucker with the gun,

and I'll take the other guy.

- Anything in the bedroom? Nah.

Just some kiddie porn.

I knew it.

Didn't I say he was a diddler?

You did! He called it years ago.

Well, I guess taking him out was a public service.

- Good for me. - Now what?

I'm a little hungry. Anybody want some eggs?

You can eat now? Are you fucking kidding me?!

Oh, I'm sorry, princess.

Is your tummy in turmoil?

Man, fuck you!

Hello.

Think we found our money.

"Our"?

Again?

- Hey, Nick. - So I took the liberty

of seeing if our receptionist and her sister

were open to making $10,000 this evening.

And I'm sitting here with my fucking dick in my hand.

- Sorry, ladies. Yeah, well, uh...

we ran into a little trouble with two guys from Boston.

- Who you with? - Spread 'Em Sports.

Yeah, Spread 'Em Sports?

Oh, figures.

Put me on speaker, will you?

Fellas, we haven't met.

My name is Nick Quatrani.

The Q Tip?

Oh, good, my reputation precedes me.

Listen, the guys you're bracing over there,

- they're friends of mine. Yeah, we're sorry,

Mr. Quatrani, we didn't know.

Well, now you do.

Proceed with caution.

Yes, sir.

Danny, Ray?

Do we have a deal?

- You bet. - Thank you.

Now that that's all clear,

I just want to say

I hate the fucking Red Sox.

Need more Vaseline.

- Thank you. You about done?

Not gonna lie, Rayfield, I'm struggling here.

You want to explain these diamonds to customs?

- Make it happen! Make it happen.

Like I can just make it happen.

Who knows?

Maybe a latex condom packed with diamonds

- will shrink your prostate. - (Danny grunts)

DANNY And... the gate's closed.

Don't fart, don't fart, don't fart.

("Hypnotize" by The Notorious B.I.G. playing)

Hello? Anybody?

I'm home.

("Runnin' With the Devil" by Van Halen playing)

So, Sunny, where did you and Carl meet?

Long Beach Harbor.

What, like in a bar?

Shipping container.

That's romantic.

I brought you some fresh ones.

- Oh. - Oh, thank you.

- Mm-hmm. - Huh?

Ah-ah-eh! What do you say?

Daddy, please?

: Yeah, that's my girl.

Hey, so what's with junior?

He's not really a joiner, is he?

Yeah, he marches to his own drum.

He is very creative.

Mm-hmm.

I'm not a trained profiler,

but you should keep an eye on him.

- What is that supposed to mean? - Take it easy,

just if you see a crucified squirrel

in your backyard, you give me a holler.

Hey, I was looking for you guys.

Oh, hey, welcome home.

- (whispers): How'd it go? - (whispers): Not here, but good.

- Okay. - Oh, where'd you go, Danny?

- Ah, you know, here and there. Uh-huh.

You felonious motherfucker, come here.

Let me introduce you to some of my colleagues.

Yep.

This is Lester Pinkus. He's SWAT.

- How you doing? - Hey.

Over here, we got Ron Bullock. Hey, Ronny.

- Hey. What's up? - Grand theft larceny.

Oh, my goodness, it's Hank Wilbury.

Used to be homicide, now he's K-9.

Woof!

He shot his wife in the ass.

Claimed she was a prowler.

Legend.

Look.

Everybody you see here is my friend.

You're my friend, which means

they're your friends.

Terrific.

Listen, I need a favor.

Please tell me you ran out of hot dog buns.

You remember how I dispatched some evildoers

on your behalf, huh?

For which you were handsomely compensated.

Yeah, true, but we both agree

that I saved your worthless fucking life.

Sure.

You see that fat fuck over there

with the crew cut and the mustache?