Seven Psychopaths

Was it Dillinger got shot through the eyeball

or am I thinking of somebody else?

Moe Greene got shot through the eyeball in The Godfather.

Yeah, I'm talking about in real life. LARRY: Oh.

Somebody in real life got shot through the eyeball.

Who was that?

Well, no, Larry,

many people in real life have got shot through the eyeball.

I'm just saying I think Dillinger was one of them.

That's really good aim.

No, that ain't really good aim.

How is that not really good aim, Tommy?

That's 100 fucking cops shooting 1,000 bullets a minute.

One of them's bound to go through somebody's fucking eyeball.

Oh.

Eyeball. Eyeball, eyeball, eyeball.

You ever shoot a guy in his eyeball?

I stabbed a guy in his ear once,

ice pick, right in his fucking ear.

Yeah, see, that'd be a different subject. That'd be "ears."

What's the matter with you, Tommy?

Nothing's the matter with me.

Are you nervous because we're killing a chick?

Yeah, look at me, I'm shaking. I got the chick-killing shakes.

The last thing the boss says to me, he says,

"Tommy, the moment I first saw Angela's eyes, I knew it."

"I knew it was love, I knew I was fucked. And lo and behold, I was."

"So, Tommy, the moment after you kill her,

please, shoot her fucking eyeballs out." Those were his exact words.

I got one exact word for that.

"Overkill."

I got two exact words for that, "Hear, hear."

I got three exact words for that.

"You're damn fucking straight."

In Cuba, the torturers used to have a device, two thin metal spikes,

placed here, that they adjusted,

and slowly, millimeter by millimeter, pricked into the eyeballs.

You're kidding me? Those Communist motherfuckers.

Well, no, Larry. These are the ones

those Communist motherfuckers kicked out.

What is it with you today, Tommy?

First it's should we or shouldn't we

shoot this chick through the eyeballs,

and second, it's you've gone soft...

Hey, Martin, it's your agent calling again.

Just wondering when we're gonna see that new screenplay of yours.

I'm not sure what the holdup is,

but the old clock's ticking, buddy,

so give me a call, okay?

Hiya, Kaya.

Martin's writing today, Billy.

Should I just stand outside like a dick, then?

You doing yoga?

Was. Can I watch?

(swans)

What happened to you?

I got in a fight at my audition.

Who with this time?

The director guy.

He broke his nose.

How are you ever gonna get a job, Billy,

if you break the director guy's nose before you even got the part?

I didn't mean to break his nose.

His nose was just in the middle of where I was punching.

I'm going to work.

Are you pissed at me for something, baby?

Why would I be pissed at you, Marty?

Because you're a cunt. Billy!

I don't remember doing anything to piss her off.

Don't worry about it.

She's probably pissed at you not for anything specific,

more because she's a fucking bitch.

She's not a fucking bitch, Billy. She's just got issues.

Yeah, she's got issues. She's got "being a fucking bitch" issues.

When are you gonna get a girlfriend anyway?

Why do I have to do all this shit on my own?

Maybe I've already got a girlfriend.

A girlfriend I can't tell you anything about

in the interests of your own safety.

That just means you haven't got a girlfriend.

Proof be if need proof... Never mind.

Huh?

Proof be if need be.

And how's everything in the dog-kidnapping business?

Dog-"borrowing" business. I ain't talking about that shit neither.

Dog-borrowing business.

Oh!

Big boy.

His name's Abel.

Hi. Is this your dog?

Oh, my God!

I have to pay you. No, please. I can't.

Take this. Thank you so much. Are you serious?

Hey, hey. So where do you wanna go, Hans,

now that we're back in the money?

The cancer ward, Billy, if you don't mind.

One cancer ward coming right up.

Five hundred bucks, baby. A blonde lady with a big fat basset hound.

When you gonna get a job that ain't just stealing from folks, Hans?

I'm a 63-year-old, ain't worked in 20 years.

Myra, where am I gonna get a job?

Government.

Government?

"A job that ain't just stealing from folks"?

Government?

Psst! Eh?

Government.

Eh?

Five hundred bucks for a dog.

Come on. I'm gonna put it here,

and you can take it if you want.

So how's the Seven Psychopaths coming along, Marty?

Slow, slow.

I got the title.

Just haven't been able to come up with all the psychopaths yet.

How many you got? One.

And he ain't really much of a psychopath.

He's more of a, kind of a Buddhist.

A Buddhist?

Yeah. See, I'm sick of all these stereotypical

Hollywood murderous scumbag-type psychopath movies.

I don't want it to be one more film

about guys with guns in their hands.

I want it, overall, to be about love and peace.

But it still has to be about these seven psychopaths,

so this Buddhist psychopath,

he doesn't believe in violence.

I don't know what the fuck he's gonna do in the movie.

Maybe he could karate chop somebody.

You know?

So what happens to the seven psychopaths at the end?

I don't know what happens to them at the start.

Oops!

Yeah, it'll be all right.

Hey. Shit in my pants,

I got a psychopath fool you can write about.

Did you see this thing in the paper the other day

about those two Mafia guys who got whacked?

How about this?

There's a serial killer going around, a major whacko.

However, he ain't like your usual limp-ass serial killer,

tie up a freckle-headed hitchhiker on a highway.

No, this guy, he's got a little bit more integrity.

This serial killer will only kill mid-to high-ranking members

of the Italian-American organized crime syndicate.

Or the Yakuza.

That's a great fucking psychopath, Billy.

Do you think?

A serial killer who will only kill

mid-to high-ranking members of the Italian organized crime syndicate.

Or the Yakuza. Yakuza.

I'll keep with the Mafia, saves doing Jap dialogue.

Good idea.

That's a great fucking psychopath, Billy. Can I keep him?

You can if you let me help write the movie with you.

You can keep him, Marty, I'm just kidding you.

The daughter of a Quaker went missing.

And when she was discovered, the slit in her throat

turned out to be the least of the damage done to her.

Her killer, whose name shall not be noted,

could not bear the guilt and the horror, he said,

and a year to the day of her death,

he walked into a police station and gave himself up.

And though he asked for execution, the judge gave him life,

and the killer was sent off to Sing Sing to serve out his sentence.

Seventeen long years went by.

The killer found religion.

And was sincere about it. He had changed.

And if he had ever been a psychopath, he was not one any more.

This story isn't about him.

Many more years went by

and the authorities finally realized that it wasn't a scam,

that he did truly mean it. That he had truly repented.

And they decided to set him free.

And he found himself a place to stay

and he determined to live a simple,

joyous life in the years now left to him.