Steve Buscemi Monologues

That's my brand. Oh, this is damn good! Say, this is the best beer I've ever had. Actually...

I'm just glad to be alive right now. I was up a few towns away- you know Saragosa? I was visiting a bar there, not unlike this one. They serve beer, not quite as good as this, but close. And I saw something you wouldn't believe. I'm sitting there, see, small table all by myself. Now this bar, it's full of real low-lives. I mean, not like this place here. No, I mean bad. Like they were up to no good, know what I'm sayin'? Anyway, I'm all by myself, I like it that way. Meanwhile, things are going on... under the table kinds of things. Not too obvious, but, not too secret, either. So, I'm sitting there, and in walks the biggest Mexican I have ever seen. Big as shit. Just walks right in like he owns the place. Now, nobody knew quite what to make of him, or quite what to think. There he was and in he walked. He was dark, too. I don't mean dark-skinned. No, this was different. It was as if he was always walking in a shadow. I mean every step he took towards the light, just when you thought his face was about to be revealed, it wasn't. It was as if the lights dimmed, just for him.

Just try and keep it from turning into a fucking bloodbath, all right? Not like last time.

The stranger shot him, walked over to the bartender, paid, and left.

Now, I wasn't interested in his drink. No, I was more interested in what he was carrying when he walked in. Some sort of a suitcase, kind of heavy. And he sat that thing on a stool beside him as if it were his girl.

Suddenly they got very interested in who you were. So, I laid the story down nice and thick.

So, anyway, without warning, without any hint or preview, the stranger whips around, and he sees… me.

Ya know, one of these days you're gonna lie down too hard on that thing and blow your brains out.

Do you even doubt it, man? I don't THINK we got set up, I KNOW we got set up! I mean, really, seriously, where did all those cops come from, huh? One minute they're not there, the next minute they're there? I didn't hear any sirens. The alarm went off, okay. When an alarm goes off, you got an average of four minutes response time. Unless a patrol car is cruising that street, at that particular moment, you got four minutes before they can realistically respond. In one minute there were seventeen blue boys out there. All loaded for bear, all knowing exactly what the fuck they were doing, and they were all just there! Remember that second wave that showed up in the cars? Okay, those were the ones responding to the alarm, but those first motherfuckers, I'm telling you man, they were there and they were waiting for us. Haven't you fucking thought about this?

Fuck you, White! I didn't create the situation, I'm just dealin' with it! You're acting like a first year fucking theif - I'm acting like a professional! If they get him, they can get you. They get you, they get closer to me, and that can't happen! And you, motherfucker, are lookin' at me like it's MY fault. I didn't tell him my name. I didn't tell him where I was from. I didn't tell him what I knew better than NOT to tell him! Fuck, fifteen minutes ago you almost told me your name! You, buddy, are stuck in a situation YOU created. So, if you wanna throw bad looks somewhere, throw 'em at a mirror!

I'm very sorry the government taxes their tips, that's fucked up. That ain't my fault. It would seem to me that waitresses are one of the many groups the government fucks in the ass on a regular basis. Look, if you ask me to sign something that says the government shouldn't do that, I'll sign it, put it to a vote, I'll vote for it, but what I won't do is play ball. And as for this non-college bullshit I got two words for that: learn to fuckin' type, 'cause if you're expecting me to help out with the rent you're in for a big fuckin' surprise.

Hey, you two assholes knock it the fuck off and calm down! Cut the bullshit. We ain't on a fuckin' playground! I don't beleive this shit. Both of you guys got ten years on me and I'm the only one acting like a professional. You guys act like a bunch of fuckin' niggers. You wanna be niggers, huh? They're just like you two - always fightin' and always sayin' their gonna kill each other...

Assuming we can trust Joe, how we gonna get in touch with him, huh? He's supposed to be here, but he ain't, which is making me very nervous about being here. Even if Joe is on the up and up, he's probably not gonna be too happy with us. Joe planned a robbery, but he's got a blood bath on his hands now. Dead cops, dead robbers, dead civillians… Jesus Christ! I tend to doubt he's gonna have a lot of sympathy for our plight. If I was him, I'd try to put as much distance between me and this mess as humanly possible.