Fingers Page #4

That's something to cry about.

Even then, you can get a transplant.

- What's your name?

- Esther.

- No kidding, so is mine!

- It is not.

It's not my real name.

Shirley is my real name.

You should be ashamed,

carrying on like this...

...with a horny kid like me

falling in love with you.

You're putting evil thoughts

in my mind, Esther.

Relax. All I'm gonna do

is slip a finger in.

- Why's your glove up to your elbow?

- My arm's cold. Turn around, bend over.

Bend over and point your toes in.

- Like this?

- In.

Now take a deep breath and hold it.

All right.

- All right! All right!

- All right, all right.

All right!

Here it comes. Okay...

All right.

The golden rule of urology:

If you get an erection, you come.

If you don't get an erection, you walk.

Yeah?

What about heroic fucks?

What's that?

You're ready to come,

but the girl needs more.

She's gonna cry inside

if you shoot it all out...

...so you do your razor-blade

fantasies and hold back.

That's a dumb f***, not a heroic f***.

You're straining your prostrate glands.

Make up your mind.

Whose penis are we talking about here?

Yours or hers?

- Hey, beautiful, where you going?

- To have fun.

- Come with me and have some more fun.

- You're sure of yourself, aren't you?

That's right.

You're in the way of traffic.

Hey! Looking good.

I got it.

- Where is it?

- Where's what?

The $22,000 your man lost.

I don't know nothing about no 22,000

nothing, but we got us a message.

Patsy didn't care

for your tone of voice.

He don't want you bothering him again.

Maybe if I shot you two douche bags

he'd reconsider.

You gonna shoot us with your radio?

- Hey, you wear shoes.

- Yeah.

- I'm surprised.

- Hey, officer!

- What?

- Your loss.

We're standing here, bothering nobody.

This maniac starts threatening us.

- Get out of here!

- Blow off our legs.

And he's flashing illegal gambling.

In his hand, look.

Is this your handwriting?

Is this your handwriting?

- Yeah.

- Come on. What's your name?

- Jimmy Angellelli.

- Let's move.

- What's yours?

- What do you mean, "What's mine?"

Officer Morris Levy. That's mine.

You're a Levite?

So am I. We're brothers.

- With a name like Angellelli?

- My mother's a Levine.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

- My mother's maiden name is DeLucci.

- Really?

DeLucci, Angellelli.

Levy, Levine.

We're brothers. We're twins.

Look, I wear a chai

on my Saint Christopher's medal.

- That's no excuse for this.

- Forget it, it's nothing.

You shouldn't waste your time

with law enforcement.

You're a sensitive guy.

Look at your eyes.

You should be out listening

to Shostakovich and The Drifters.

It'll keep you sane.

I'm not worried about my sanity.

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