Mr. White: What you're supposed to do is act like a fuckin' professional. A psychopath ain't a professional. You can't work with a psychopath. You don't know what those sick assholes are gonna do next.
Joe: So you had a few bad months. You do what everybody else does. I don't care if it's J.P. Morgan or lrving the tailor. You ride it out.
Holdaway: Look man, undercover cops gotta be Marlon Brando, man. To do this job you gotta be a great actor. You gotta be naturalistic. You gotta be naturalistic as hell. If you ain't a Brando actor, you're a bad actor. And bad acting is bullshit in this job.
Holdaway: The things you gotta remember are the details. It's the details that sell your story. Now, this particular story takes place in a men's room. So, you gotta know all the details about the men's room. You gotta know if they got paper towels or a blower to dry your hands. You gotta know if the stalls ain't got no doors or not. You gotta know if they got liquid soap or that
pink, granulated powder shit they used in high school. Remember? You gotta know if they got hot water or not, if it stinks, if some nasty, lowlife, scum-ridden motherfucker, man, sprayed diarrhea all over one of the bowls. You gotta know *every* detail there is to know about this commode. What you gotta do is take all them details, man, and make 'em your own. While you're doing that, you gotta
remember that this story is about you and how you perceived the events that went down.
Nice Guy Eddie: I'll get you down in Long Beach as a dockworker.
Mr. Blonde: I don't wanna lift no fuckin' crates, Eddie.
Nice Guy Eddie: You ain't gonna lift shit. You don't even work there. But as far as the records are concerned, you do. I call Matthews and tell him he's got a new guy, boom, you're on the rotation. You get a time
card. It's clocked in and out for you every day. At the end of the week you get a nice paycheck. Dockworkers do very well.
Mr. White: You talked to Nice Guy Eddie? Why the fuck didn't you say that in the first place?
Mr. Blonde: 'Cause you never asked me.
Mr. White: Hardy-fuckin'-har.
Joe: It never ceases to amaze me. A fuckin' jungle bunny goes out there, slits a whore woman's throat for 25 cents, he gets Doris Day for a parole officer. A good fella like you winds up with a ball-bustin' prick!
Mr. White: All right, let's run through what happened: we're in the place and everything's going fine. Suddenly the alarm get tripped. I turn around and there's all these cops outside. Everyone starts going ape shit and starts shooting. Then Mr. Blonde goes psycho and starts shooting all those civilians in the head execution style...
Mr. Pink:
[interrupting] Stop! You're wrong. That's not how it went. The cops didn't show up when the alarm went off. The cops didn't show up until after Mr. Blonde starting shooting everyone.
Mr. White: As soon as I heard the alarm I saw the cops...
Mr. Pink: No, no, I'm telling you it wasn't that soon. They didn't let their presence be known until after Mr.
Blonde became a madman. Okay? I'm not saying they weren't there. I'm saying they were there. But they didn't make a move until after Mr. Blonde started shooting everybody. That's how I know we were set up. Come on, Mr. White, at least think... .
Mr. White: [cutting Mr. Pink off] Look! Enough of this "Mister White" shit!
Mr. Pink: No, wait, wait,
wait, man! Don't tell me your fuckin' name. I don't wanna know it! Jesus Christ, I ain't gonna tell you mine.
Mr. White: You're right, this is bad. How did you get out?
Mr. Pink: I shot my way out. After everyone started shooting, I blasted my way out of there.
Mr. Pink: Man, could you believe Mr. Blonde?
Mr. White: That was the most insane, fucking thing I've ever seen. Why the fuck would Joe hire a guy like that?
Mr. Pink: Now, I don't want to kill anybody. I get out that door and your standing in my way... one way or another you're getting out of my way.
Mr.
White: That's the way I look at it. The choice between doing ten years and taking out some stupid motherfucker ain't no choice at all. But I ain't no madman either. What the fuck was Joe thinking? I can't work with a guy like that. We're awful damn lucky he didn't tag us too when he shot the place up. I came this close to taking out his ass myself!
Mr. Pink: I mean
everyone panics. Everybody. Things get tense and you panic. It's human nature. You can't help it. Fuck man, you panic on the inside or in your head. When you give yourself a couple of seconds you get a hold of the situation you deal with it, but what you don't do is start shooting up the place and killing people.
Mr. White: What you're supposed to do in a situation when an
alarm goes off is you act like a professional. A psychopath ain't a professional. I can't work with a psychopath. You never know what those sick assholes are gonna do next. I mean... . Jesus Christ, how old do you think that black girl was? Nineteen? Twenty? Maybe twenty-one?
Mr. Pink: If that.
Mr. Pink: Hey, did you see what happened to anyone else? After the shooting started? Right after I ran out of there?
Mr. White: Me and Orange jumped into the back seat of the car outside. Brown floored it. After that, I don't know what went down.
Mr. Pink: Yeah, at that point it was pretty much every man for himself. As far as Mr.
Blonde and Mr. Blue are concerned, I haven't the fogyest idea what happened. Once I got out of there, I never looked back.
Mr. White: Well, what do you think?
Mr. Pink: What do I think? As far as I know, the cops either caught them or killed them.
Mr. White: No chance they punched through? You found a hole out of there.
Mr. Pink: Yeah, but that was a fucking miracle. But even if Mr. Blonde and Mr. Blue did get away, where are they?
Mr. White: You think it's possible one of them got the diamonds and got away?
Mr. Pink: No, that's not possible.
Mr. White: Why? How do you know?
Mr. Pink: Because I got the
diamonds.