Look at me!!!

[KontanKarite]

Who is this under my knife?!

[Despanan]

Bloodletting on my premises that I ain’t approved I take as a fucking affront. It puts me off my feed.

[KontanKarite]

Here's the thing... I don't give a ten-penny fuck about your moral conundrum, you meat-headed shit-sack... That's pretty much the thing.

[Despanan]

Over time, your quickness with a cocky rejoinder must have gotten you many punches in the face.

[KontanKarite]

What in Heaven's name are you talking about?

[Draconysius]

There is a lamp on my table.

[Despanan]

I'll tell you this, son, you can mark my words, Crazy Horse went into Little Bighorn, bought his people one good, long-term ass-fucking. You do not want to be a dirt-worshipping heathen from this fucking point forward. Pardon my French.

[KontanKarite]

A *real* native is someone who is willing to die fighting for his country. There's nothing more to it.

[Despanan]

They're hypocrite cocksuckers. And the fuckin' lyin' instruments and tactics they use to fuck people up the ass can be turned against them.

[KontanKarite]

Oh, you got a murderous rage in you, and I like it. It's life, boiling up inside of you. It's good.

[Despanan]

He’s a candidate for office. He can’t whore-fuck no longer with impunity.

[KontanKarite]

That is the minority vote.

[Despanan]

You’ll start to see me tearing things down. Speeches tonight are canceled. Unless the insult’s cured by tomorrow, there’ll be further tearing down. Fuck the fucking elections

[KontanKarite]

Everything you see belongs to me, to one degree or another. The beggars and newsboys and quick thieves here in Paradise, the sailor dives and gin mills and blind tigers on the waterfront, the anglers and amusers, the she-hes and the Chinks. Everybody owes, everybody pays. Because that's how you stand up against the rising of the tide.

[Despanan]

Pain or damage don’t end the world, or despair or fucking beatings. The world ends when you’re dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man—and give some back.

[KontanKarite]

The Priest and me, we lived by the same principles. It was only faith divided us. He gave me this, you know. That was the finest beating I ever took. My face was pulp, my guts was pierced, and my ribs was all mashed up. And when he came to finish me, I couldn't look him in the eye. He spared me because he wanted me to live in shame. This was a great man. A great man. So I cut out the eye that looked away. Sent it to him wrapped in blue paper. I would have cut 'em both out if I could have fought him blind. Then I rose back up again with a full heart and buried him in his own blood... He was the only man I ever killed worth remembering.

[Despanan]

Every fuckin’ beatin’ I’m grateful for. Every fuckin’ one of them. Get all the trust beat outta you. And you know what the fuckin’ world is.

[KontanKarite]

Now that you've had a taste of my mutton, how do you like it?

[Despanan]

I wanna know who cut the cheese. I'll tell you this for openers: we are gonna set off an area on the balcony. And God help whoever doesn't use it, because the next stink I have to smell in this office, and whoever doesn't admit to it is going out the window, into the muck, onto their fucking heads, and we'll see how they like farting from that position, okay?

[KontanKarite]

You mother-whoring Irish n*****.

[Despanan]

Oh, is that your Heathen imitation? Jump up and down and give a few whoops, as in "Whoop, that ass fucking hurts."

[KontanKarite]

Don't mind him. He used to be an Irishman.

[Despanan]

Not the odd mutter. Habitual fuckin’ vocalizing of thoughts best kept to yourself. I will confide further. Lately... I talk to this package: the severed rotting head I paid bounty on last year of that murdered fuckin’ Indian.

[KontanKarite]

I'm forty-seven. Forty-seven years old. You know how I stayed alive this long? All these years? Fear. The spectacle of fearsome acts. Somebody steals from me, I cut off his hands. He offends me, I cut out his tongue. He rises against me, I cut off his head, stick it on a pike, raise it high up so all on the streets can see. That's what preserves the order of things. Fear.

[Despanan]

Believe me, even now in the forest the blade would be between my teeth; me and you making our way stealthily forward. And as to us and him, if blood’s what it finally comes to, 100 years from now the forest is what they’ll find here. Dewy morning’s lost its appeal for me. I prefer to wake indoors.