6 Ways to Die

For the last nine months,

I singlehandedly saved my company

from being ravaged by Wall Street.

I mean, these jackals

want our pension fund.

I'm talking poison pills,

scorched earth, killer bees.

And I'm pumping Nancy f*cking Reagan

to anybody who'll listen.

Now, do they appreciate it?

Nancy f*cking Reagan. Do they?

F*ck no. They turn it around,

and say I'm the problem.

That I'm stifling progress.

I'm stifling progress?

Bullshit, you're shitting me.

I mean, they're shitting me.

Come on.

A man can only take so much, you know?

Maybe you're right.

Maybe it's time for old Mikey

to move on. Yeah.

But to what? I don't know. You know.

I mean, what do you do? What do you do?

What do you do?

I don't... I don't think you can deal

what it is I do.

What? Hey, look, man.

Whatever it is you're doing,

I can do it too, okay?

I mean, I'm tired

of this corporate bullshit.

I wanna feel free.

I wanna win the Super-Bowl, you know?

At least I wanna get a stab at it.

I think you might just have to.

I'm just drunk enough to talk

about this shit. Okay...

Frank, tell me

what my new profession is.

When do I start, and let me at it.

Contract killer.

Hey, where's my gun?

You're f*cking... yeah, f*cking right.

The people you meet.

You're not a contract killer, come on.

Not that I believe that you are,

but, hey, between you and me?

It was kind of a secret fantasy of mine

when I was little, you know?

Hit man, the secret agent man, you know.

Two things I always wanted...

wanted to do, but...

I ended up in that six by six

foot fluorescent cubicle.

Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay...

Let's just say, hypothetically,

you are a contract killer. Okay?

You're a contract killer.

You've obviously had a little bit to drink,

but let's just entertain this notion,

just for a second, okay?

How do I get into the biz?

I don't know any contract killers

that actually want to be contract killers.

There's no satisfaction in what we do.

Some people trade services for a living,

others trade commodities, we trade both.

Our services are our time,

effort, and skill.

The commodity is human life.

That was freaking well-said, man.

I'm no dummy, and that was well-said.

I'm gonna be a hitman.

I mean, a contract killer.

It sounds more professional.

Okay? I'm gonna be one.

Bang bang!

Oh, we got a new job.

So...

let me ask you this:

Who you gonna kill next, Frank Casper?

Who's your next mark?

You are.

Those that have witnessed execution

say there is no sound worse

than the weeping of a mother

watching her son being put to death.

They're wrong.

There is one sound that is worse.

There is silence.

I hear you have work for me.

I need a man killed.

High profile. Sonny "Sundown" Garcia.

He is the number one cocaine distributor

in the entire North American continent.

He created the most efficient

and productive drug pipeline

since the era of the cocaine cowboys.

His pipeline ships over a thousand keys

a week of pure, uncut, Columbian cocaine,

by way of Belize and Mexico.

His U.S. distribution network

is the most intricate

and sophisticated network ever created

in the history of the narcotics trade.

This all makes him the number one North

American resource for the Mexican cartels.

So, I'm sure you can understand

why he's a very hard man to kill.

But he needs to be killed, at any cost.

I need the job done my way.

It sounds personal.

Yeah, it's personal.

My whole existence revolves

around the loss of his life.

I need his assassination

to be heard all over America.

And I want him six feet under.

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