Tombstone Page #11

I'm the one

who got cheated!

You goddamn pimps!

You all in it together.

Nobody's in anything.

Ike, you're drunk.

Go on home and sleep it off.

Get your goddamn hands off me!

Don't you ever put

your hands on me, see?

Don't you ever try to manhandle

a Cowboy, 'cause we'll cut

your goddamn pimp's heart out.

- Understand me, pimp?

- Don't you threaten me,

you little son-of-a-b*tch!

All right! All right!

Come on, easy, Virg, easy!

You just go on home and

forget about it, huh, Ike?

Come on, Virg.

I ain't gonna forget nothin'.

Well, that certainly was a bust.

Come, darlin'. Let's seek

our entertainment elsewhere.

Forget it, Virg. Go on.

Get some fresh air.

What's wrong, Doc?

Nothin'. Not a thing.

I'm right as the mail.

Doc? Doc!

All right, get him up.

Let's get him to the hotel.

- What's wrong with him?

- Lunger.

Yeah, well, I hope you die.

Give me my guns.

My rifle.

Goddamn bastards.

Think they can cheat me.

Nobody cheated you, Ike.

Just go home.

I don't take no mouth

from no bartenders, neither.

There, ya see?

Give somebody a rap on the beezer,

get some respect around here.

You tell the Earps, I see 'em

on the street and Doc Holliday,

I'm gonna send them to hell

on a shutter. You tell 'em that...

Pick these guns up.

Come on.

Come on, Ike.

Come on!

- Hey, you walkin'?

- Leave me alone.

- You gonna give Ike back his guns.

- Not 'til he sobers up.

Wearin' that badge

don't make you right.

Who the hell

you think you are?

- Watch the way you walk,

you stupid bastard.

- Easy, kid, I'm sorry.

I ain't easy

and I ain't your kid.

You take your sorry

and shove it up your ass.

I'll fight you right now.

Goddammit!

You're gonna bleed.

You got a fight comin'.

Comin' today.

Bastards! We're comin'!

Your condition's

quite advanced.

I'd say you lost some 60%

of your lung tissue, maybe more.

What's the verdict?

Two years. Two days.

Hard to say, if you stop now:

Your smokin',

your drinkin',

your gamblin',

your night life.

You need complete rest.

What I mean is,

you must attempt to, uh, deny...

- your, uh, marital impulse.

- Get out of my sight.

- How are you feeling, Doc?

- Mmm, better.

That's good.

I knew it wasn't nothing.

We must talk, darlin'.

It appears, uh...

we must redefine the nature

of our association.

I'm a good woman

to you, Doc.

Don't I always

take care of ya?

Nobody cares for you

like me.

I'm a good woman.

Yes, it's true,

you are a good woman.

Then again...

you may be the Antichrist.

Goddamn.

Now there's six of 'em.

Hell, this is like a bad dream.

Just stay calm. Use your head.

It'll be all right.

Just the same, though...

Guess maybe you better

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