Nobody Wants to Shoot a Woman

We gather here to commend

our brother John to God our Father

and to commit his body to the earth.

In the spirit of faith in the resurrection

of Jesus Christ from the dead,

let us raise our voices and say...

Our Father who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name,

thy kingdom come,

thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

Forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

Just tell me where we're going.

It's a surprise, honey.

Candy store.

We should get something for Johnny.

What is this?

Yeah. What is this?

No.

No way.

No fucking way.

Don't you fuck with me, John.

Don't fuck with me on this.

-Mare. -Don't fuck with me.

-I'm serious. Don't... -Mare.

Can I have the honor of asking you

to get the fuck out of the car?

Oh, my God. Sw-Swear to me.

Swear-swear on your mother's head...

-It's not much... -...that this is ours.

...but it's in a good school district.

It's not a mansion like you deserve, but the chips are up.

It's perfect.

It's perfect. I love it.

Thank you.

And it's in your fucking name.

Oh my God.

Oh! Oh my God!

Oh, oh.

- -

-Another beer, John? -

It's on The Bug.

Sure. Give me a shot of Jameson.

Cheers, big ears.

-What's the score? -Fuck you.

Been here a while?

What are you drinking? It's on The Bug.

Give me a Jameson. Thanks, Donny.

I got to be somewhere.

-Okay. -I got to pretend

like I'm at a fucking job.

Since I bought that fucking house.

I got to be at work.

What do you say you do?

-Sales. -Sales?

Oh, yeah? What do you sell?

What's with the million fucking questions?

I don't know.

Suits. Expensive fucking suits.

Great. Suits.

Tailored suits.

What if there's a funeral, though?

-Or a wedding. -Same thing.

- Hey, fellas. -Hey, Rhonda.

Fine day for a party, eh?

-Did you just touch my ass? -

You wish.

Rhonda, behave.

Either way, I'm cool.

What are we talking about?

Uh, we're trying to figure out what kind of salesman

John's pretending to be.

Uh...

Life insurance.

Everybody hates those guys.

Tell them you sell life insurance,

they'll change the subject.

That's a good idea.

Hello?

Hello?

-Yeah? -Hi.

-Hi. -I saw you moved in,

and I thought I'd welcome you to the neighborhood.

Oh. Oh. Thank you.

I'm sorry. I'm just not used to, um...

I would've baked a cake, but I can't cook worth shit.

Uh...

Thank you.

Um...

You okay?

Yeah. It's just it's my first housewarming present.

It's just a fern.

Uh, can I, can I get you a coffee?

How about a glass of wine?

Yeah, that I can do.

Finally, someone I can relate to

in this fucking neighborhood.

Oh, everybody seems pretty nice so far.

No, don't let them fool you.

-They are all cunts. -

All of them.

This neighborhood,

it's all about keeping up,

like there's a competition or something.

And if you don't partake, you're a threat.

Huh. You've gotten the judging stares

with your clothing, right?

The car you drive or...

"What does your husband do?"

"The same as yours:

"plays golf, fucks around.

Now fuck off."

But enough about me.

What does your husband do?

Yeah.

What does your husband do?

He does this and that.

Keep those fucking hands where we can see 'em!

You're doing great, Gary.

You just keep pretending the floor is your woman.

Down! Down!

And don't you feel bad.

Banks have been fucking us for years.

I don't want anybody looking up at me or my friends!

What, are you gonna marry me? Let's go.

You feel that?

- -Knees.

Get the fuck down. All the way down.

Nice shoes.

-Prada? - Yeah.

Time!

I know where you fucking live.

I know where your kids go to school.

Stay quiet, Lisa.

- -You almost got

that fucking woman killed.

You should've fucking done her, John.

Shut the fuck up, Dave.

I got it, I got it, I got it. Let's go.

Mom, is there a fire?

- -No, no.

No, they would tell us if there was a fire.

Oh, I don't think so, pal.

No.

Here we go.

-Oh. -Oh, hey, Dad.

Hey, buddy.

-Mom get anything good? -No.

- -Yeah?

- Good. -Double macchiato.

- -Two percent milk.

I'm sorry?

You know what? Fuck it. Whole milk.

What is two percent anyway? You know what I mean?

What is it, a shooter or something?

-Nah. It's nothing. -

-Easy. -

See?

Nothing to worry about.

-Love you. -Love you, too.

Mary.

Hey, man.

How you doing? Hey, Mary.

Here, I got, I got these for, uh, for Johnny. Look.

-Oh, that's so sweet. -Check it out, right?

-'Cause he's my little devil. -That's cute.

- That's good, right? - That's cute.

That's your cut. That's Dave's. Take it and get the fuck out.

Come on, John.

John.

The shit went smooth.

You think that went smooth?

What'd you say to the teller?

You give her your number? Tell her your sign?

J--

I mean, I was just, I was just fucking around.

Every fucking word that comes out

of that fucking piehole is a piece of the puzzle!

Cops put enough of them together, they lead to you.

And you to me and my family.

Always fucking around.

At your age, you still haven't figured it out?

Every broad? All the time?

-This is not for you. -Uh-huh.

I keep giving you chances and you keep fucking up?

I don't trust you.

I can't work with you.

Take your shit and fuck off.

-See you, Mary. -Good night, Sean.