The world is full of complainers. But the fact is, nothing comes with a guarantee. I don't care if you're the Pope of Rome, President of the United States, or even Man of the Year--something can always go wrong. And go ahead, complain, tell your problems to your neighbor, ask for help--watch him fly. Now in Russia, they got it mapped out so that everyone pulls for everyone else-- that's the theory, anyway. But what I know about is Texas...And down here... you're on your own.
[to Marty] Stick your finger up the wrong person's ass?
You know a friend of mine broke his hand a while back. Put in a cast. Very next day he takes a fall, protects his bad hand, falls on his good one, breaks that too. So now he's got two busted flippers and I say to him "Creighton, I hope your wife loves you. 'Cause for the next five weeks you cannot wipe your own goddamn ass." That's the test, ain't it? Test of true love.
[to himself, about Marty] Sweet Jesus, you are disgusting.
[to Ray] Look. Personally I don't give a shit. I know Marty's a hard-on but you gotta do something. I don't know; give the money back, say you're sorry, or get the fuck out of here, or something...It's very humiliating, preaching about this shit...I'm not laughing at this, Ray Bob, so you know it's no fucking joke.
Even the fucking dog's gone crazy.
[to Abby] Something pretty fucking weird is going on. Put your coat on and I'll drop you at home. But don't talk to either of 'em until I do. And don't worry. Believe me. These things always have a logical explanation. Usually.
Abby: He gave me a little pearl-handled .38 for out first anniversary.
Abby: Figured I'd better leave before I used it on him. I don't know how you can stand him.
Ray: Well, I'm only an employee, I ain't married to him.
Abby: I don't know. Sometimes I think there's something wrong with him. Like maybe he's sick? Mentally?...Or is it maybe me, do you think?
Ray: Listen, I ain't a marriage counselor. I don't know what goes on, I don't wanna know... But I like you. I always liked you...
Ray: [answering phone] Hello.
Marty: Having a good time?
Ray: What? Who is this?
Marty: I don't know, who's this? [pause] You still there?
Ray: Yeah, I'm still here.
[Marty hangs up]
Abby: What was that?
Ray: Your husband.
Visser: [about a photo of Ray and Abby] I know a place you can get that framed.
Marty: What did you take these for?
Visser: What do you mean? Just doin' my job.
Marty: You called me, I knew they were there, so what do I need these for?
Visser: Well, I don't know... Call it a fringe benefit.
Marty: How long did you watch her?
Visser: Most of the night...They'd just rest a few minutes and then get started again. Quite something.
Marty: You know in Greece they cut off the head of the messenger who brought bad news.
Visser: Now that don't make much sense.
Marty: No. It just made them feel better.
Visser: [laughs] Well first off, Julian, I don't know what the story is in Greece but in this state we got very definite laws about that. Second place I ain't a messenger, I'm a private investigator. And third place--and most important--it ain't such bad news. I mean you thought he was a colored. [He laughs] You're always assumin' the worst.
Visser: Anything else?
Marty: Yeah, don't come by here any more. If I need you again I know which rock to turn over.
Visser: [laughs] That's good... "which rock to turn over"... that's very good...Well, gimme a call whenever you wanna cut off my head...I can crawl around without it.
Marty: What were you drinking, Debra?
Marty: You've got a very sophisticated palate.
Marty: Give Debra here another drink, and give me the usual.
Debra: What's a palate? [she smiles]
Marty: Listen, I got tickets for the Oilers and the Rams next week in the Astrodome. Ever sat on the fifty yard line?
Debra: I don't follow baseball.
Marty: [laughs] You won't have to. I'll explain what a palate is.
Debra: You won't have to. I just wanted to see if you knew.
Marty: So how long have you know Meurice?
Debra: About ten years.
Marty: So what're you doing tonight?
Debra: Going out with Meurice.
Marty: Tell him you have a headache.
Debra: It'll pass.
Marty: We don't seem to be communicating--
Debra: You want to hustle me. I don't want to be hustled. It's as simple as that. Now that I've communicated, why don't you leave?
Marty: I own the place.
Debra: Christ, I'm getting bored.
Marty: I'm not surprised, the company you've been keeping the last ten years.
Debra: [after Marty leaves] Nice guy.
Meurice: Not really. What'd you say your last name was?
Ray: Why d'you wanna leave all this?
Abby: You kidding? I don't wanna leave all this, I just wanna leave Marty.
Meurice: Howdy stranger.
Ray: Meurice. Sorry I didn't show last night.
Meurice: Wasn't too busy. You missed a good one, though. This white guy walks in about one o'clock, asks if we have a discount for alcoholics... I tell him to get lost, but Marty's sitting here listening and I can tell he's thinking that maybe it ain't such a bad idea.
Ray: Is Marty here?
Meurice: Not here tonight. Wasn't here last night. He's especially not back in his office.
Ray: Thanks Meurice.
Meurice: For what?
Ray: Am I fired? You wanna hit me? What?
Marty: I don't particularly want to talk to you.
Ray: Well... if you're not gonna fire me I might as well quit.
Marty: Fine. Suit yourself...Having a good time?
Ray: I don't like this kind of talk.
Marty: Then what'd you come here for?
Ray: You owe me for two weeks.
Marty: Nope. She's an expensive piece of ass...You get a refund though, if you tell me who else she's been sluicing.
Ray: I want that money. If you wanna tell me something, fine--
Marty: What're you, a fucking marriage counselor?
Marty: What're you smiling at--I'm a funny guy, right, I'm an asshole? No, no, that's not what's funny. What's funny is her. What's funny is that I had you two followed because, if it isn't you, she's been sleeping with someone else...What's really going to be funny is when she gives you that innocent look and says, "What're you talking about, Ray, I haven't done anything funny." ...But the funniest thing to me right now is that you think she came back here for you--that's what's funny...Come on this property again and I'll be forced to shoot you...Fair notice.
Meurice: Marty...I thought you were dead. Going home?
Marty: No. I think I'll stay right here in hell.
Meurice: Kind of a bleak point of view there, isn't it Marty?
Marty: Meurice...I don't want that asshole near my money. I don't even want him in the bar.
Meurice: We get a lot of assholes in here, Marty.
Marty: Got a job for you.
Visser: Well, if the pay's right and it's legal I'll do it.
Marty: It's not strictly legal.
Visser: If the pay's right I'll do it.
Marty: It's, uh... it's in reference to that gentleman and my wife. The more I think about it the more irritated I get.
Visser: Yeah? Well how irritated are you?
[Marty doesn't answer.]
Visser: [laughs] Gee, I'm sorry to hear that. Can you tell me what you want me to do or is it a secret?
Marty: Listen, I'm not--this isn't a joke here.
Visser: You want me to kill 'em.
Marty: I didn't say that. [pause] Well?
Visser: Well what?
Marty: What do you think?
Visser: You're an idiot.
Marty: So, uh... this wouldn't interest you.
Visser: I didn't say that. All I said was you're an idiot. Hell, you been thinking about it so much it's driving you simple.
Visser: I'm supposed to do a murder--two murders--and just trust you not to go simple on me and do something stupid. I mean real stupid. Now why should I trust you?
Marty: For the money.
Visser: The money. Yeah. That's a right smart bit of money.
Abby: [in a strip joint] Looks like the state legislature is out of session.
Meurice: I thought this is where they met.
Abby: [about Marty] He's real careful. Fact is, he's anal.
Abby: Yeah, he told me once himself. He said to me... [taps herself on the forehead] "In here, Abby. In here... I'm anal."
Ray: Well I'll be damned.
Abby: I couldn't believe it either. Me on the other hand, I got lots of personality. Marty always said I had too much. 'Course he was never big on personality. He sent me to a psychiatrist to see if he could calm me down some.
Ray: Yeah? What happened?
Abby: Psychiatrist said I was the healthiest person he'd ever met, so Marty fired him.
Abby: I said, "Marty, how come you're anal and I gotta go to the psychiatrist?"
Ray: What'd he say?
Abby: Nothing. He's like you, he doesn't say much.
Abby: Except when he doesn't say things, they're usually nasty.
Abby: When you don't, they're usually nice.
Marty: [looking at a photo of Ray and Abby] Dead, huh?
Visser: So it would seem.
Visser: Something I got to ask you, Marty. I've been very very careful. Have you been very very careful?
Marty: Of course.
Visser: Nobody knows you hired me?
Marty: Don't be absurd, I wasn't about to tell anyone. This is an illicit romance--we've got to trust each other to be discreet. For richer, for poorer.
Visser: Don't say that. Your marriages don't work out so hot. How did you cover the money?
Marty: It's taken care of. The less you know about it the better. I just made a call about that. It'll look fine.
Visser: I must've gone money simple. This kind of murder...it's too damn risky.
Marty: Then you shouldn't have done it. Can't have it both ways. Count it if you want.
Visser: Nah, I trust ya. [shoots Marty]
Ray: You're bad.
Ray: I said you're bad.
Abby: [long pause, then smiles] You're bad too.
Ray: We're both bad.
Ray: I just wanted to let you know that everything was all right. I took care of everything. Now all we have to do is keep our heads.
Abby: What do you mean?
Ray: I know about it, Abby. I went to the bar last night.
Abby: Well... what happened?
Ray: I cleaned it all up, but that ain't important. What's important is what we do now; I mean we can't go around half-cocked. What we need is some time to think about this, figure it out. Anyway, we got some time now. But we gotta be smart.
Ray: Abby, never point a gun at anyone unless you're gonna shoot him. And when you shoot him you better make sure he's dead because if he's not dead he's gonna get up and try and kill you. That's the only thing they told us in the service that was worth a goddamn--Where the hell's my windbreaker?
Abby: What the hell happened, Ray?
Ray: That ain't important. What's important is that we did it. That's the only thing that matters. We both did it for each other...That's what's important.
Abby: I don't know what you're talking about.
Marty: Lover-boy oughta lock his door. I love you...That's a stupid thing to say, right?
Abby: I... I love you too.
Marty: [smiling] No. You're just saying that because you're scared. You left your weapon behind...He'll kill you too.
Abby: You leaving?
Ray: Isn't that what you want? [she shakes her head no] Wanna come with me?
Abby: But first I gotta know what happened.
Ray: What do you want to know?
Abby: You broke into the bar. You wanted to get your money. You and Marty had a fight. Something happened...
[Ray shakes his head, smiling]
Abby: I don't know, wasn't it you? Maybe a burglar broke in, and you found--
Ray: With your gun? Nobody broke in, Abby. I'll tell you the truth...Truth is, I've felt sick the last couple of days. Can't eat... Can't sleep... When I try to I... Abby...The truth is... he was alive when I buried him.
Ray: I think someone's watching.
Abby: [turning on the light] So what'll they see?
Ray: Just leave it off. He can see in.
Abby: If you do anything the neighbors'll hear.
Ray: You think...Abby. I meant it... when I called.
Abby: I love you too.
Ray: Because you're scared.
Abby: [after shooting Visser through a door] I ain't afraid of you, Marty.
Visser: [laughing] Well ma'am...If I see him, I'll sure give him the message.