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Hello.

They call me doom-head.

Now, I don't call myself

doom-head, mind you, but they do.

Who's they?

Well, some mysterious folks that pay me

a whole lot of scratch to do what I do.

And what I do,

unfortunately for you...

I do real well.

Now.

Let's get one thing

between us straight.

I ain't no f*cking clown.

Now Mr. P.T. Barnum may claim clowns are

the pegs on which this circus is hung...

But I isn't no f*cking clown.

Now you may think you see a grease-painted

performer sitting before you

who would usually elicit an

amused response from an audience,

but trust me.

You do not.

I'm not here to make you happy.

I'm not here to brighten

your dismal day

and I am certainly not here

to elicit an amused response.

I am here to end your

miserable f*cking life.

But first...

Mm.

First,

I'm gonna bless you

with a story.

See I don't think the last sound to

puncture your ear drums should be

the twang of your

body falling apart.

Snap! Oooh.

Crunch.

Interesting fact:

Did you know that a cockroach can

live up to 168 hours without a head?

I find this... fascinating.

But what really blows

my f*cking marbles

like a 50-cent skank,

I mean the real mind-f*cker,

is that for several more hours

this same decapitated head

will keep on truckin' for Jesus.

If properly nourished,

of course.

You know, all in all,

you've had a pretty good run.

But, uh, deep down inside you must have

known it all had to end somewhere.

Might as well be here.

Might as well be now.

And it might as well be with me.

Where's my wife? What did you sick

bastards do to my beautiful wife?

She's the mother of

our two beautiful girls.

Rebecca, Josephine, they're beautiful,

they're just like her, please.

Oh.

I know where she is.

Two little clowns I know

took a fancy to her.

So I think she might be sticking

around for a bit, huh?

...though I walk through the valley of

the shadow of death I fear no evil...

Christ almighty, you Jesus freaks

are so f*cking sensitive, huh?

Shit.

You should be thanking me, man.

I'm sending you straight to the f*cking

pearly gates with a first-class ticket.

I should apologize in advance

for not sharpening this thing.

It might take

a couple of extra whacks.

Listen to me. Listen to me, please,

I'm begging you. I'm begging you.

You don't have...

You don't have to do this.

We can all walk away.

Bring Georgina to me.

And you let us walk away,

no one would know.

- F*ck it.

- No, no.

You know what they say,

Kemosabe, in hell,

everybody loves popcorn.

Number f*cking two.

Hey Randy, man, I hope you know that

"e" stands for "empty." Not "eat."

I am hungry,

but that's not possible.

Check it.

Oh, suck my motherf*cking balls!

No thanks.

How am I supposed to work with

this inferior goddamn equipment?

Is that what the ladies

are calling it now?

Trust me, my doo-Wally's

working fine.

Hey, look here boy,

if this monster break down

here in the ass of nowhere

you gon' get your lard ass out

there and you gon' push

with the bumper up your ass.

Venus, I think it might be time to bring

back the girl into a gorilla-lusion.

Oh, you all got a gorilla?

Yeah I got a f*cking gorilla,

he's in my pants,

I call him king dong.

Whoa, hey, whoa filly.

- I assume you're joking.

- I am not.

I mean, haven't we got enough to

worry about, without you

framing up a new show?

I mean, besides,

who's gonna hustle

this other shit?

You think I want to be

a f*cking mechanic?

Fixing these death traps

the rest of my life?

I mean, I got dreams.

And they do not include yanking

some kid's chewed up arm

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