The Last Detail Page #3

We got five days!

Come on!

Is your word worth anything?

Sure it is.

As good as the next guy's.

The next guy's a prick!

What I mean is, Meadows...

...you aren't going to try and run away

while we're here in Washington, are you?

Forget about that.

Will you not bang into people...

...and embarrass us like that?

- And not steal anything?

- No, sir.

Goddamn it!

Hold still, Meadows.

Son of a b*tch. All right.

No question about it.

- It almost gets you high.

- That's entertainment.

- Cheese melted enough for you?

- Sure.

It ain't melted at all.

Send it back!

Send the goddamn thing back.

- You're paying for it.

- It's all right.

Have it the way you want it.

Waiter!

Melt cheese for the chief, would you?

Thank you.

See, Meadows?

It's just as easy...

...to have it the way you want it.

Goddamn!

Hey!

Where's these malts at?

See what I mean, Meadows?

That's good.

Better catch that train.

We still got time for a beer.

Now wait a minute, man.

I ain't old enough.

You ain't old enough for what?

For a beer.

Everybody's old enough for a beer.

Ain't that right, Mule?

Well, I'm not.

I know a place right here.

It's nice and quiet.

Eight years and a D. D.,

at least we can buy the kid a beer.

Hi, Ed.

I'll take 30 cents worth of beer

in a glass...

...and the same for my shipmates.

Ed don't work here no more.

- Let me see your I. D. 's.

- How come?

Because this kid ain't old enough.

- Listen, pal...

- Listen yourself, pal.

The law says I have to serve him,

but...

I tell you what you do,

Mr. Citizen Bartender.

Take your beers

and ram them up your ass sideways.

- Can you dig it?

- Whoa there, sunshine.

We're going, so you can take your hand

off that horse cock...

...you got stashed under the bar.

How do you know I don't have

something with a little more bark to it?

This redneck's talking about firearms.

I know that you ain't got nothing

but wood under there...

...because I was here

when a certain sailor...

...got it up the side of his head.

What do you think about that, redneck?

The boss'd lose his license

for sure if I serve that kid.

I'll kick your ass around the block

for drill, man.

You try,

and I'll call the shore patrol.

I am the motherfucking shore patrol,

motherf***er!

I am the motherfucking

shore patrol!

Now give him a beer!

- I don't want...

- You're going to have a beer!

I don't feel like one right now.

Come on, man. Come on.

Come on, let's go!

Come on, man.

Man, you are a Bad Ass!

- I am, ain't I?

- Thought you'd blow his head off.

- What?

- You're a Bad Ass.

- A what?

- A Bad Ass!

- A what?!

- A Bad Ass!

You ain't leaving D. C.

till you got a belly full of beer!

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