Segue a cena e o trecho do roteiro para a apreciação de todos.
Do you know who I am, Mr. Worley?
I give up. Who are you?
I'm the Anti-Christ. You get me
in a vendetta kind of mood, you
will tell the angels in Heaven
that you had never seen pure evil
so singularly personified as you
did in the face of the man who
killed you. My name is Vincenzo
Coccotti. I work as council for
Mr. Blue Lou Boyle, the man who
your son stole from. I hear you
were once a cop so I can assume
you've heard of us before. Am
I've heard of 'Blue Lou Boyle.'
I'm glad. Hopefully that will
clear up the how-full-of-shit-I-am
question you've been asking yourself.
Now, we're gonna have a little Q and A,
and at the risk of sounding redundant,
please make your answers genuine.
(taking out a pack
Want a Chesterfield?
(as he lights one up)
I have a son of my own. About your
boy's age. I can imagine how
painful this must be for you. But
Clarence and that bitch whore girl
friend of his brought this all on
themselves. And I implore you not
to go down the road with 'em. You
can always take comfort in the
fact that you never had a choice.
Look, I'd help ya if I could, but
I haven't seen Clarence --
Before Cliff can finish his sentence, Coccotti
slams him hard in the nose with his fist.
Smarts, don't it? Gettin' slammed
in the nose fucks you all up.
You got that pain shootin' through
your brain. Your eyes fill up
with water. It ain't any kind of fun.
But what I have to offer you,
that's as good as it's ever gonna
get, and it won't ever get that
good again. We talked to your
neighbors, they saw a Mustang,
a red Mustang, parked in front of
your trailer yesterday. Mr. Worley,
have you seen your son?
I've seen him.
Now I can't be sure of how much
of what he told you. So in the
chance you're in the dark about
some of this, let me shed some
light. That whore your boy hangs
around with, her pimp is an
associate of mine, and I don't
just mean pimpin', in other
affairs he works for me in a
courier capacity. Well, apparently,
that dirty little whore found out
when we were gonna do some
business, 'cause your son, the
cowboy and his flame, came in the
room blastin' and didn't stop
'til they were pretty sure
everybody was dead.
What are you talkin' about?
I'm talkin' about a massacre.
They snatched my narcotics and
high-tailed it outta there. Wouldda
gotten away with it, but your son,
fuckhead that he is, left his driver's
license in a dead guy's hand. A
whore hiding in the commode filled
in all the blanks.
I don't believe you.
That's of minor importance. But
what's of major fucking importance
is that I believe you. Where did
On their honeymoon.
I'm gettin' angry askin' the same
question a second time. Where did
They didn't tell me.
Coccotti looks at him.,
Now, wait a minute and listen. I
haven't seen Clarence in three
years, yesterday he shows up here
with a girl, sayin' he got married.
He told me he needed some quick
cash for a honeymoon, so he
asked if he could borrow five
hundred dollars. I wanted to
help him out so I wrote out a
check. We went to breakfast
and that's the last I saw of him.
So help me God. They never thought
to tell me where they were goin'.
And I never thought to ask.
Coccotti looks at him for a long moment. He then gives
Virgil a look. Virgil, quick as greased lightning, grabs
Cliff's hands and turns it palm up. He then whips out a
butterfly knife and slices Cliff's palm open and pours
Chivas Regal on the wound. Cliff screams.
Coccotti puffs on a Chesterfield.
Tooth-pick Vic returns to the trailer, and reports in
Italian that there's nothing in the car.
Virgil walks into the kitchen and gets a dishtowel. Cliff
holds his bleeding palm in agony. Virgil hands him the
dishtowel. Cliff uses it to wrap up his hand.
Sicilians are great liars. The
best in the world. I'm a
Sicilian. And my old man was
the world heavyweight champion of
Sicilian liars. And from growin'
up with him I learned the pantomime.
Now there are seventeen different
things a guy can do when he lies to
give him away. A guy has seventeen
pantomimes. A woman's got twenty,
but a guy's got seventeen. And if
ya know 'em like ya know your
own face, they beat lie detectors
all to hell. What we got here is
a little game of show and tell.
You don't wanna show me nothin'.
But you're tellin' me everything.
Now I know you know where they
are. So tell me, before I do
some damage you won't walk away
The awful pain in Cliff's hand is being replaced by the
awful pain in his heart. He looks deep into Coccotti's
Could I have one of those
Coccotti leans over and hands him a smoke.
Cliff reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter.
Oh, don't bother. I got one.
(he lights the
So you're a Sicilian, huh?
You know I read a lot. Especially
things that have to do with history.
I find that shit fascinating. In
fact, I don't know if you know
this or not, Sicilian's were spawned
All the men stop what they are doing and look at Cliff,
except for Tooth-pick Vic who doesn't speak English and
so, isn't insulted.
Coccotti can't believe what he's hearing.
It's a fact. Sicilians have
nigger blood pumping through their
If you don't believe me look it
up. You see, hundreds and
hundreds of years ago the Moors
conquered Sicily. And Moors are
niggers. Way back then, Sicilians
were like the Wops in northern
Italy. Blond hair, blue eyes.
But, once the Moors moved in there,
they changed the whole country.
They did so much fuckin' with
the Sicilian women, they changed
the bloodline forever, from blond
hair and blue eyes to black hair
and dark skin. I find it
absolutely amazing to think that
to this day hundreds of years
later, Sicilians still carry that
nigger gene. I'm just quotin'
history. It's a fact. It's
written. Your ancestors were
niggers. Your great, great, great,
great grandmother was fucked by
a nigger, and had a half nigger
kid. That is a fact. Now tell
me, am I lyin'?
Coccotti looks at him for a moment then jumps up, whips
out an AUTOMATIC, grabs hold of Cliff's hair, puts the
barrel to his temple, and PUMPS three bullets through
He pushes the body violently aside.
Coccotti pauses. Unable to express his feelings and
frustrated by the blood on his hands, he simply drops his
weapon and turns to his men.
I haven't killed anybody since
1974. Goddamn his soul to burn
for eternity in fucking hell for
making me spill blood on my hands!
Go to this comedian's son's
apartment and come back with
something that tells me where that
asshole went so I can wipe this
egg off of my face and fix this
fucked up family for good.
Tooth-pick Vic taps Frankie's shoulder and, in Italian, asks
him "what was that all about?"
Lenny, who has been going through Cliff's refrigerator has
found a beer.
When he closes the refrigerator door he finds a note
being held on be a ceramic banana fruit magnet that says:
"Clarence in LA: Dick Ritchie (Number and address).
Boss, get ready to get happy.
TITLE CARD: "CLARENCE AND ALABAMA HIT L.A."