Drugstore Cowboy Page #4

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you're talkin' about, fuckwad.

- Jesus. How old is she? Is she over 18?

- 22. You're 22 years old, right?

- 22.

- 22.

Lucky for you.

OK, kiddies. Here's how it's comin' down.

You can just tell us where the drugs are

and save yourself a whole lot of trouble,

or you can sit there

with your mouths shut

and we're gonna tear this place apart

board by board. Now, how's it gonna be?

Man, I love cops.

If there were no hot-sh*t

cops like Gentry around

the competition would be so heavy,

there'd be nothing left to steal.

Right?

All right.

You two take the car

and get an apartment.

Get something on the west side.

We ain't hit nothing there in weeks.

- It should be pretty cool by now.

- OK, Bob.

- Don't mess it up.

- I'm not gonna mess it up. Just relax.

Dianne and I are going over to my

mother's house to get some new threads.

Something nice.

- Oh!

- Hi, Ma.

Lord, it's my dope-fiend thief of a son

and his crazy little nymphomaniac wife.

Ma.

Hey, Ma.

Please tell me what I did to deserve this.

Never knowing when there'll be a knock

on my door telling me my baby's dead.

Green with an overdose.

Shot by a mad pharmacist or run over

by a car while fleeing from police pursuit.

Why me?

You have the clothes I left here

last time I was sent to the joint?

I threw them away.

I thought you'd never get out.

How could you think that?

He is a thief and a dope fiend, and

that is more important to him than I am.

If you say so, Ma.

He can go to prison. He likes it

there anyway. Don't you, Robert?

Why do you hate Bob and I so, Mama?

What have we ever done

to make you hate us so?

I don't hate you, Dianne,

and I don't hate Robert either

and the Good Lord knows

that to be the truth.

I truly feel pity for you both.

You are grown-up now,

and yet you still act as children who

wanna do nothing but run and play.

You cannot run and play

all your life, Dianne.

- Is there anything else of yours up there?

- Give it away. I can always get more.

To be sure. You'll just

go steal some more.

Shut up!

So, this is our new home.

Yeah, Bob.

Why do they call it "Josephine"?

I don't know. The guy that

rented it to me is named Dale.

Maybe "Josephine" sounds better.

The last time I dropped acid,

I decided to make a self-portrait.

Groovy, isn't it?

I can just see all those bottles of pills

that hospital's holding for me right now.

Our stereo buy of the month.

Hot dog!

Bob, speaking of dogs, do you think

that Rick and I could get a little pup?

Just a little something to hold

and pet when you guys are gone?

No.

No f***ing dogs.

- What have you got against dogs?

- Look, no f***ing dogs, and that's final.

Why don't you tell them what happened

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