Tiger Raid Page #4

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Dancing with Jesus or

drinking with the Devil.

Dave wanted to know where he was,

but, hey, I'm not his f***in' minder.

Maybe Dave just disappeared him.

No one's seen Ruby for a month.

I miss working with Ruby.

We were good together.

Ah... he was alone?

Dave said only one.

This place is f***in' deserted.

This is perfect.

- You can chop him up.

- Why? Who the f***'s missing him?

We've got a raid to do.

It's all about professional standards,

alright? How are you going to learn?

- You have to chop him.

- Professional? You chop him.

I'm not Muhammad f***in' Masterchef.

F*** it, I'll do it, then.

Yeah, I'll do it in the pool.

If it's messy.

Hey. You know what else

I'm gonna do with my money?

- What?

- Horses.

Yeah, make some bets on some horses.

Last time I was on horses, I had

a really good run. Really good run.

Horses?

They got races here?

The only place you'll see

a tank at a race track.

- You ever hear of The Knockadoona Kid?

- The Knockadoona Kid?

No.

It was a f***in' beauty.

I had a good run on it. F***.

- And I had a woman at the time too.

- Not your wife?

No, no. This was a different woman.

It was when I was drinking.

Yeah. She wanted to save me.

So, who the f*** would want to save you?

Yeah. Can you believe that?

Sure, I didn't care anyway as

long as she had f***in' money.

F***. Legs are always tough.

You just have to make sure to

get your full weight behind it.

What was her name?

Marilyn.

Her skin.

It was pale and always sorta cold and

she had these eyes like, you know...

- Kryptonite or something.

- F***in' Supergirl, was she?

Oh, I bled her dry.

But she wanted it.

It made her feel good to be f***ed over.

Where did you meet her?

I asked her for a light.

And I was about to ask her for money.

What was she?

A social worker or something?

Jesus!

How could anyone f*** a social worker?

Do you know what's the best

thing about being an addict?

Makes you a great liar.

Jesus, I filled her

full of f***in' sh*t.

Filled her full of sh*t.

She fell for me.

So, you asked her for a light,

and she just brought you home.

She smelled the drink.

She said the booze had killed her

father and she couldn't save him,

and she wanted a second chance

at saving someone.

F***, man. She was beautiful.

F***ed.

What about professional standards?

F*** 'em.

Clear!

So listen. Tell me more

about the Knockadoona Kid.

I stole 5,000 from Marilyn

to bet on the horse.

The race ended.

Ask me where did he come.

Where did he come?

He won.

Took in 100 grand.

Ask me if I went home.

Did you go home?

No. I met Gandhi.

Who? The real Gandhi?

How could I meet the real Gandhi?

He's f***in' dead.

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