Men at Work Page #5

threw away a perfectly good white boy.

And he sure looks

a hell of a lot like that dude.

We're screwed.

What do you mean "we"?

You pulled the trigger, pal.

Look, Louis, we gotta talk.

You see, Louis,

Carl sort of knows this guy.

- So?

- I don't know him at all.

- What I'm trying to say is he shot him.

- With a pellet gun.

- But he thought he hit him in the butt.

- I did.

You two seem to be

in some serious sh*t here.

I need a drink.

Look, Louis, I know

that I did not kill this man.

This guy was beatin' on his old lady,

so I took upon myself to end the dispute.

- So you shot him?

- With a pellet gun.

So you said.

- And you shot him from where?

- From my apartment.

So how in the hell did he end up here?

Why don't you ask him?

- Have some. It'll settle your nerves.

- My nerves don't need settling!

What is the maximum sentence

for murder?

I did not murder anyone! Jesus Christ,

James, whose side are you on?

- I am not taking sides.

- You've already convicted me.

I'm on my way to death row.

Carl, come on.

Let me tell you,

you are in it as much as I am.

You were there.

That makes you an accomplice.

Look, you bastard, I never

wanted you to do it. I was against it.

- Try explaining that to the judge.

- I'm not explaining anything to any judge.

- This is your ball game, Carl.

- You are an a**hole!

- You are a trigger-happy idiot!

- I will not rot in prison alone.

You're not gonna mess up my life,

you son of a b*tch!

Hey!

You and your stupid pellet gun!

- Get off of me!

- I'll kill you!

You're a stupid man!

You're a stupid little man!

I said enough! I said cut it out!

Hey, you! I said knock it off!

Now look, unless one of you two guys

took a piece of rope or a piece of wire

and strangled this guy,

you're both in the clear.

How the hell do you know?

You can tell by the marks on his neck.

Look at that.

Pretty sloppy job, too.

Not a great idea to keep him

out in the open like this.

I don't like this, Carl.

I don't like this one bit.

- I'm goin' to the cops.

- What?

Looks like they're comin' to us.

I hate cops.

Well, well. Another fine day

in the dumps, eh, fellas?

Who are your friends?

I've never seen you around here before.

Louis here works for the company.

He'll be ridin' with us for the next

couple of weeks to police our activities.

- Is that right?

- Yes, sir, Officer, sir.

- What about you?

- He's...

I didn't ask you, garbageman.

I'm asking the punk who looks like

he's had a few too many.

What the hell's the matter with him?

He looks friggin' dead.

Well, the boy's had a rough night.

He's, you know, a... cousin of James.

He flew in from... Texas. We were

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