Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead Page #5

# That adjoins|the lonesome sky #

- # Now I know my baby's waiting #|- How are you, Dodie?

# By and by|Brother, by and by #

# By and by #

# When I walk down|the lonesome valley #

Let me ask you something,|Jimmy.

You gonna go through with this thing|no matter what?

I got to. He's got me|on the dangle.

# By and by #

Can't believe that Pieces,|of all people,

is workin'|in this f***in' joint.

- Hello, Jimmy. What's up?|- You.

- You stake me for a cup of coffee, baby?|- F*** off, cheese breath.

Look at you, filthy f***ing Franchise.|You're still alive.

Thought you were doin'|a stretch in County.

I escaped 'cause I was|missin' your nasty little p*ssy, baby.

Shut up. Hook me up.|Come on, Jimmy, five bucks.

Give me five bucks|and I'll pay you back tomorrow, man.

What's the matter, baby?|Your spread ain't sellin'...

on account of you ain't takin' care|of the merchandise anymore?

- Hey, f*** you, Franchise.|- No, thanks.

Jimmy knows I'm sweet on him,|don't you, Jimmy?

That's my boy.

- Clean?|- Always.

- Right.|- That's my man.

Ooh! Me and Jimmy, one day|we's gonna have us a love child.

- Whatever.|- Ain't that right, Jimmy?

- Right.|- Hmm. Hey.

I gotta be goin'. The p*ssy posse's been|rollin' this neighborhood bustin' everybody.

Thanks for the money,|baby.

Better stay clean.

- She don't look good, Slick.|- No.

Needle track city, man. You shouldn't|go contributing to her collapse, man.

Give it a name. Lucinda'll|be dancin' in the breeze...

long after you and I|are takin' the dirt nap.

- Don't touch anything in here.|- Whatever.

I'm ready.

You still got that disease, Pieces?

Cut the sh*t with that!

It's Olden.|My name is Olden.

Always with this "Pieces" sh*t.|Have a little respect.

Whatever, man, I'm sorry.|Didn't mean nothin' by it.

Did they|find out what it is yet?

Naw. In fact, I lost|a toe the other day.

Believe that sh*t?|A toe?

I found a croaker downtown diagnosed it|as a circulatory problem,

a f***in' circulatory problem.

I want to kill the bastard, but I can't|get my f***in' fingers around his...

- Ahh.|- Ow. This is a bad beat, Olden.

Aw, give it a name.

You do your time.

You make an oath|to go right and rigid,

and this is how|you end up,

watching a bunch of raincoat types|kick their gongs around...

and losin'|motherfuckin' toes.

The Man... mentioned me|in particular?

Yes, he did.

- I haven't seen him in years.|- He likes you.

- Me?|- Oh, you're so hard.

- So? Are you in?|- Absolutely, Jim.

I'll use the dough|to get me a legit croaker,

diagnose my malady on the up-and-up|before I lose my dick.

We got a skull session tomorrow at|the Thick 'n' Rich. Can you make it?

Aw, sh...

I'm already there, baby.

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