Don't Say a Word

Leon put 'em on the same squad. | Don't get me wrong. I Iove the 49ers.

Montana and Rice? | They're HaII of Fame Iocks, baby.

But do they cover the spread?

HeII, no. Not Iike the Giants.

Let me teII you something. | You can give me Simms and Bavaro,

Meggett and LT, any damn day.

Those guys are your meat and potatoes. | They cover, baby.

And don't even bring up Miami. | Don't bring 'em up. There's nothin' in Miami.

Miami only has Marino with the | golden arm and some fat cheerleaders.

They have no running game. It's Iike | two virgins. Can't find the damn hole.

That's why they get blitzed | aII the damn time. Understand?

I can't believe you guys.

I mean, yeah, they put up a ton of points, | but they only cover every other week.

Take the over, then bet | the fuckin' farm, you understand?

The pigs, the barn, the Iittle chickens and | that raggedy-ass tractor. Bet aII of that.

- DaIIas, America's team? My sweet black ass. | - Come on.

Tried the bookie-fuckin' routine, right?

Everybody and their wrinkled | grandmother wanna bet the Cowboys.

Therefore, they gotta win by two touchdowns | just to cover. What are the odds on that?

So do me a favour. Take the points and run.

Come on, guys.

Unless you are a moron, retarded Saints fan,

therefore you deserve | to get cornholed on the 50-yard Iine.

- America's sport, baby. FootbaII. | - I hate footbaII.

You're talkin' about my sport. | I can do any bet.

One minute, feIIas.

It's showtime.

OK. Let's do it.

It's a nasty habit.

Go.

Everybody down on the ground.

- Hands above your heads. | - Move.

You want me to use this thing? | What are you Iookin' at?

- How Iong? | - Two minutes.

I see you, baby. | Get your ass out here.

Bingo.

- 1798. | - That was a bad year.

It's 90 seconds.

Got it.

Upstairs.

- What is that? | - Nothing. It's estate junk.

One minute.

- It's not here. | - It's there.

AII right, 45.

My God.

30 seconds.

OK. Come on.

Break out the diamond. | Let's see that $10 miIIion red beauty.

Fuckin' right.

The Surgeon General was right. | Cigarettes can kiII.

No. Go back.

- Is there a problem? | - Fucking go back!

The psychodynamics ofcompulsive stealing | are well established.

An act committed to relieve | a pre-existing state of guilt,

an attempt to harm an imagined enemy,

or a form of revenge against those who have | deprived the person of something significant,

or somehow inflicted a narcissistic injury.

But stealing panties | from the girls' Iocker room...

There's nothing in there.

I've never really been | a big fan of Freud's anyway.

I don't know if I should say this. | I'm a professional.

I won't say anything.

You promise to keep your word?

OK. WeII, you know, that thing | that you were doing with the panties?

Everybody does it. | Your best friends do it.

The mailman does it. | Even the headmaster. They aII whack off.

If anybody teIIs you they don't, they're Iying.

My mom says I'm oversexed.

- Hi, Daddy. | - Excuse me. Who am I speaking to?

- This is me. | - No, my Jessie is eight years old.

The girl I am talking to is at Ieast 11.

Can I speak to your mother, please?

- Don't forget the turkey. | - Why not have 'em deliver it?

It's Thanksgiving eve, Nathan. | Might as weII get it to fly here.

OK. Fairway, right? | What's the cross street? 74th?

The man's a steel trap.

- I will be there in ten minutes. | - AII right. Bye.

Go away.

Come on.

Shit.

Louis, this better be a real emergency.

My hero. Look.

She's not one of your Dalton trust fund | waifs, but I think she needs your help.

I don't know, Louis. I don't talk to you for | days, and the night before Thanksgiving...

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