Samuel L. Jackson Monologues

You're over an hour late. I passed up two easy fish waiting here for you. That makes me poorer by two dollars.

Not playing games here, got no time for that. Life's got no time for your little boy games. Leave all that nonsense at home when you come here.

Alright, gonna put it on speed today. I ain't stopping to give you any little tips either. You sink or swim on your own today, cause I'm not always gonna be there to hold your hand for ya.

Alright, you ready for the real thing? You read to come get it? You ready to come take it from your old man, you ready to be the king?

Anything lost can be found again, except for time wasted.

You're playing each piece like losing it hurts. This ain't checkers. You want my king, you got to come get my king. All these other pieces are just the means to do it.

Your queen is just a pawn with some fancy moves, nothing more.

Good, it's better. Still gonna kick your ass, but it's better.

Chess ain't fun, boy, how many times do I gotta tell you that? Don't you listen to a word I say?

Well you don't, so you be well served to retain some of the knowledge I'm imparting to you, rather than giving me all this hard ass street attitude bullshit.

I grew up in New York. We lived in a nice part of Harlem. When I was 12, I came home one day with some friends. We were talking loudly and using the slang we'd learned in the streets. My Father overheard us. He told my friends to leave. Then he marched me into the bathroom and washed my mouth out with soap. It was because he didn't want me sounding black. He was an educated man, my father. He had a college degree, just like his father. He was an accountant, just like his father. He worked for a big New York firm. There were only two black men in the whole building: my father, and the janitor. After 38 years, he retired a full partner. Less than a week later, he died. Not one person from that job came to his funeral. 38 years of his life, and not one white face. Only that broken down old janitor cared enough to show up. My father made it in the white man's world. He wanted his son to make in the white man's world, too. But don't you for one second think that I've forgotten who I am, or where I come from.

Gangsters? Outlaws? You're a nickel-and-dime criminal, a petty crook. And you to figure out very quickly where it is you think your going. Because let me tell you, white boy, you are definitely headed in the wrong direction. I've had enough of this. I'm going home.

What comes around, goes around.

It was supposed to be different. It was supposed to be the kind of place where you don't lock your doors at night, where you don't count your change at the grocery store, where a man in his own home doesn't have to worry about being shot at and nearly killed by the local police simple because he's black!

What I mean - what I believe… is that you killed his father… like the stories I heard go. Now, if somebody killed my father… I would feel the need to do something. The stories I heard - you know, stories get around - is that you used to be a hard-ass. You were a hard-ass and you took his dad out, Sydney. So you think - what? You can just walk through this life… without being punished for it? Shit, man. I know all those guys you know. Floyd Gondolli, Jimmy Gator, Mumbles O'Malley. They like to sit around in Clifton's and talk, talk, talk. They love to tell stories. You can sit there and look at me sideways all you want. You probably think I'm some kind of asshole or something… but I'm not a killer… like you. You walk around like you're Mr. Cool, Mr. Wisdom… but you're not. You're just some old hood. The other night in the bar, you asking me a question… like do I do parking lot security? Well, the answer is no! I'm trusted security inside the casino. I'm trusted with security, and I don't fuck it up.

Don't! Don't! Don't fuckin' do that! You understand? I can see right through that shit! You look at me as some idiot, huh? I know you do. I know you. You old guys, you old hoods... you think you're so fuckin' above it... so high and mighty. What am I to you? Some loser? Not with a gun in my hand. Not with the facts I know. Bottom line, Sydney. No matter how hard you try... you're not his father.

When your friends betray you, sometimes the only people you can trust are strangers.

A quick lesson in lying. See, this is what us real cops do: We study liars. Example: If I ask you a question about something visual, like your favorite color, your eyes go up and to the left. Neurophysiology tells us your eyes go in that direction, because you're accessing the visual cortex. So you're telling the truth. If your eyes go up and right, you're accessing the brain's creative centers and we know you're full of shit.

Crazy is on the bus.

I'm still alive, motherfucker!

Now leave your badge, guns, cuffs everything on the table

That wasn't an accident and neither will the next one that goes in your head, now get out!

You were wrong about me. What if I'm right about them?

You want my blood? Take my blood!

Omar... A Marine and a sailor are taking a piss... The Marine goes to leave without washing up... The sailor says, "In the Navy... they teach us to wash our hands... The Marines turn to him and says...

I like westerns, like Shane.

What are you talking about? He doesn't die. He rides off into the sunset, and that kid says "Come back, Shane!"

So he was slumped, slumped don't mean dead.

There's the right man's best friend and the wrong man's worst enemy.

Yeah, I like animals better than people sometimes... Especially dogs. Dogs are the best. Every time you come home, they act like they haven't seen you in a year. And the good thing about dogs... is they got different dogs for different people. Like pit bulls. The dog of dogs. Pit bull can be the right man's best friend... or the wrong man's worst enemy. You going to give me a dog for a pet, give me a pit bull. Give me... Raoul. Right, Omar? Give me Raoul.

Hates Raoul. Farley fucked up the list.

Yeah... I can dig it, Omar. I had a dog like that... a poodle. She didn't bark, though... She pissed on the floor. I hated that dog. But if I was ever depressed... she'd lay her head in my lap, look up at me with those big old eyes. And even though I thought I hated that dog... I loved her. It's like that, ain't it? That love-hate thing.

Omar, I'm doing the best I can here, man.

Omar... A Marine and a sailor are taking a piss... The Marine goes to leave without washing up... The sailor says, "In the Navy... they teach us to wash our hands..." The Marine turns to him and says...

Here we go. AK-47. The very best there is. When you absolutely, positively got to kill every motherfucker in the room, accept no substitutes.

My ass may be dumb, but I ain't no dumbass.

You can't trust Melanie. But, you can always trust Melanie to be Melanie.

What the fuck happened to you, man? Shit, your ass used to be beautiful!

He put himself in a position where he was going to have to do ten years in prison, that's what he did. And if you know Beaumont, you know ain't no god damn way he can do ten years. And if you know that, then you know Beaumont's gonna do anything Beaumont can to keep from doing them ten years, including telling the federal government any and every motherfucking thing about my black ass. Now that, my friend, is a clear cut case of him or me. And you best believe it ain't gonna be me.

Well I got a problem with spendin' ten thousand dollars on ungrateful, peanut-head niggers to get 'em out of jail, but I did it! And how small was that jail cell, motherfucker?

You know, she's just one of the bitches I got set up. I got Mel over in Hermosa Beach and I rent this little place for Simone over in Compton where you stayin', and about four blocks away I got this young 19-year-old country girl named Sheronda. I found her on the bus stop two days out of Georgia - barefoot, country as a chicken coop. I took her to my place in Compton, told her it was Hollywood.

Hell, yeah. To her dumb country ass, Compton is Hollywood. Closest she's ever been, anyway.

My money's in that office, right? If she start giving me some bullshit about it ain't there, and we got to go someplace else and get it, I'm gonna shoot you in the head then and there. Then I'm gonna shoot that bitch in the kneecaps, find out where my goddamn money is. She gonna tell me too. Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you, motherfucker. You listen: we go in there, and that nigga Winston or anybody else is in there, you the first motherfucker to get shot. You understand?

Now that there is the TEC-9, a little cheap ass spray gun made out of South Miami. They retail for 380, I get 'em for 2, sell 'em for 8. They advertised this TEC-9 as the most popular gun in American crime. Can you believe that shit? It actually says that in the little booklet that comes with it: the most popular gun in American crime. Like they proud of that shit.

Jackie can tell me any story that comes into her pretty little head, just so long as at the end of that story she hands me my motherfucking money.

Now, the thing is, I ain't never done business with these Koreans before. Now I ain't worried, because, by and large, Asians are very dependable, they don't want no trouble. You might argue with them about price and shit, but you don't need to worry about them shooting you in the back, you know what I'm saying?

Well, I'm gonna sell the other two tonight. There's this group of Koreans over in Koreatown, starting' this neighborhood watch thing. They need some weapons so they can show the neighborhood niggers they mean business. Now, I'm gonna sell them the other two machine guns, all right? The problem is, I ain't never done business with these Koreans before. Now I ain't worried, 'cause by and large Asians are very dependable, they don't want no trouble. You might argue with them about price and shit, but you ain't gotta worry about them shooting you in the back, you know what I'm saying? But I got me a rule: Never do business with people you ain't never done business with before without backup. And that's why I need you: backup.

I told you, man. She's my fine little surfer gal. You know, she ain't pretty as she used to be and she bitch a whole lot more than she used to; but, she white.

Goddamn. In all the time I've known her, I ain't never heard her scared like that. Usually, she too cool for school.

Definitely know a lot about that! Look here Louis, I got to run out for a little while so uh, if you like gettin high so much, why don't you hang out here with Mel' n' watch a little TV.

See I get high later on when I come back, see I get high at NIGHT, when I get through with all my business.

You seen Max Cherry in the dress department where we… Man look at me when I'm talking to you! You see that muthafucka in the dress department when we bout to get a half million dollars and you don't think nothin' 'bout him being there?

Come on, man, you know how they do. Black man shows up with ten thousand in cash, the first thing they want to know is where I got it. Then they're gonna want to keep a big chunk of it, start talking that court cost shit. Fuck that noise, Jack. I go through you.

Fellow named Beaumont. He got arrested for drunk driving, they wrote it up as possession of a concealed weapon. Dumb monkey-ass had a pistol on him.

Man, they fuckin' with her. They callin' that shit 'possession with intent.'. A 44-year-old black woman caught with less than two ounces, they callin' that shit 'intent'. The same thing happen to a movie star, they call it 'possession'.

Man, you put this bad boy on a flick, every motherfucker out there will want one. I'm serious as a heart attack. When them Hong Kong flicks came out, every nigger in the world had to have a 45. And they didn't want one, they want two. 'Cause all them niggers want to be the killer!

Look here, look here, look here. I tell you what - when we get through fuckin' with these Koreans, me and you go to Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles on me. Think about it now. That 'Scoe's Special, smothered in gravy and onions, side of red beans and rice, some greens. That's some good eatin'.

Oh, you know what? I'm real sorry about that, man, but I had to be somewhere all of a sudden. I figured, well, shit, Louis ain't had no pussy for a while; so, I thought, let him kick it here with Mel.

See what I'm talkin' about? Now that was about a man in New York, wants a 9 millimeter Smith & Wesson model 59-46. And why does he want it? 'Cause its the same gun that nigger in 'New York Undercover' uses. 'Cause of that nigger, I'm gonna make 12-50 off of this nigger.

Let me tell you how we're going to retaliate. All right? Tomorrow, I'm gonna pick you up, take you over to Century City, introduce you to my lawyer. And let me tell you something about my lawyer. This brother's name is Stacin Goins and this nigger is a junkyard dog. He my own personal Johnny Cochran. Matter of fact, he kicked Johnny Cochran's ass. And like Johnny Cochran, this nigger hate cops. I'm serious, man, he live to fuck wit de police. Now, as a favor, I had him look at your case and he say you ain't got shit to worry about. They're just fuckin' wit' chu. So we're gonna sick the junkyard dog on their ass and make 'em stop fuckin' wit' chu.

Now that you got 'em watchin' my ass, I'm gonna be in a titty bar downtown waitin' on Louis to call me and tell me everything's cool.

You know what this is like? It's like those old movies we both love. Now, I'm going to tell you my whole plan, and then I'm going to come up with some absurd and convoluted way to kill you, and you'll find an equally convoluted way to escape.

When you get a virus, you get a fever. That's the human body raising its core temperature to kill the virus. Planet Earth works the same way: Global warming is the fever, mankind is the virus. We're making our planet sick. A cull is our only hope. If we don't reduce our population ourselves, there's only one of two ways this can go: The host kills the virus, or the virus kills the host. Either way...

So you want to donate to my foundation. You are aware that I wound things down in that area, right?

I stepped things down because I wasn't getting anywhere. Every bit of research kept pointing to the same thing.

You know what's not good news? 'My colleague died,' that's what he said. This is an organization and they're all over us. Whoever you spoke to...

Beijing. So freaky how there's no recognizable name for the Chinese Secret Service. Now that's what you call a secret, right? You know what? Fuck it. We need to speed things up. Bring the product release forward.

Mr. DeVere. What a coincidence. You are totally the reason I'm here. When you left my house, I was thirsting for that dope-ass smoking jacket you had on. And since I'm going to Royal Ascot, apparently you need one of these penguin suits. Here I am. What are you doing here?

Hey all! Everybody listen up! What the fuck is wrong with you people? I just want to remind you all that today is a day of celebration. We must put aside all thoughts of death, and focus on birth. The birth of a new age. We mustn't mourn the ones who give their lives today. We should honor their sacrifice, and their role in saving the human race. We must put aside doubts and guilt. You are the chosen people. When folks tell their kids the story about Noah's Ark, is Noah the bad guy?

Great, you don't know, the CIA don't know. Nobody knows who this guy is? Fine. Seriously, it's fine. Well, it's not really fine, but it's not why I'm here. Hell, man, you know me. Money's not my issue. I could've retired straight out of M.I.T., fucked off to some island and let the business run itself. Nobody told me to try and save the planet. I wanted to. Climate change research, lobbying, years of studying, billions of dollars, and you know why I quit? Because the last time I checked, the planet was still fucked. Hence, my epiphany. Money won't solve this. Those idiots that call themselves politicians have buried their heads in the sand and stood for nothing but re-election. So I spent the last two years trying to find a real solution. And I found it. Now, if you really wanna make the world a better place, I suggest you open your fucking ears, because I'm about to tell it to you.

We each spend, on average, $2,000 a year on cell phone and Internet usage. It gives me great pleasure to announce, those days are over. As of tomorrow, every man, woman, and child can claim a free SIM card that's compatible with any cell phone, any computer, and utilize my communications network for free. Free Calls. Free Internet. For Everyone. Forever.

I'm sorry, did I break your concentration? I didn't mean to do that. Please, continue, you were saying something about best intentions. What's the matter? Oh, you were finished! Well, allow me to retort. What does Marsellus Wallace look like?

There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon you." Now... I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, that meant your ass. You'd be dead right now. I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking: maybe it means you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here... he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. And I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be the shepherd.

Well, I'm a mushroom-cloud-layin' motherfucker, motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm Superfly T.N.T., I'm the Guns of the Navarone! IN FACT, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOIN' IN THE BACK? YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO SHOULD BE ON BRAIN DETAIL! We're fuckin' switchin'! I'm washin' the windows, and you're pickin' up this nigger's skull!

Ain't no fuckin' ballpark neither. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies, ain't the same fuckin' ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit.

I don't wanna hear about no motherfuckin' ifs. All I wanna hear from your ass is, You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the cavalry which should be coming directly

Mmmm! Goddamn, Jimmie! This is some serious gourmet shit! Usually, me and Vince would be happy with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice right, but he springs this serious GOURMET shit on us! What flavor is this?

Nobody's gonna hurt anybody. We're gonna be like three little Fonzies here. And what's Fonzie like? Come on Yolanda what's Fonzie like?

Correctamundo. And that's what we're gonna be. We're gonna be cool. Now Ringo, I'm gonna count to three, and when I count three, you let go of your gun, and sit your ass down. But when you do it, you do it cool. Ready? One… two… three.

Yolanda, I thought you said you were gonna be cool. Now when you yell at me, it makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherfuckers get scared, that's when motherfuckers accidentally get shot.

Well, if you like burgers give 'em a try sometime. I can't usually get 'em myself because my girlfriend's a vegitarian which pretty much makes me a vegitarian. But I do love the taste of a good burger. Mm-mm-mm. You know what they call a Quarter Pounder with cheese in France?

Well, the way they pick TV shows is, they make one show. That show's called a pilot. Then they show that one show to the people who pick shows, and on the strength of that one show they decide if they want to make more shows. Some get chosen and become television programs. Some don't, become nothing. She starred in one of the ones that became nothing.

Well, there's this passage I got memorized, sorta fits the occasion. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who in the name of charity and good will shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."

Look, just because I don't be givin' no man a foot massage don't make it right for Marsellus to throw Antwone into a glass motherfuckin' house, fuckin' up the way the nigger talks. Motherfucker do that shit to me, he better paralyze my ass, 'cause I'll kill the motherfucker, know what I'm sayin'?

Normally, both your asses would be dead as fucking fried chicken, but you happen to pull this shit while I'm in a transitional period so I don't wanna kill you, I wanna help you. But I can't give you this case, it don't belong to me. Besides, I've already been through too much shit this morning over this case to hand it over to your dumb ass.

There's a passage I got memorized, seems appropriate for this situation: Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you."

Sent a couple cats over to his place, they took him out on his patio, threw his ass over the balcony. There was a little house at the bottom, enclosed in glass, like a greenhouse. Nigger fell through that. Since then he's kind of developed a speech impediment.

This was an origin story the whole time.

There are unknown forces that don't want us to realize what we are truly capable of. They don't want us to know the things we suspect are extraordinary about ourselves are real. I believe that if everyone sees what just a few people become when they wholly embrace their gifts, others will awaken. Belief in oneself is contagious. We give each other permission to be superheroes. We will never awaken otherwise. Whoever these people are who don't want us to know the truth, today, they lose.

How you doing David? I always though of us as friends.

You shouldn't be hiding in the shadows, David. You're able to hide because people who steal cars and mug people in alleys don't need your full potential. You're only using 1% of your abilities with these petty criminals

I have found someone who will require your full potential to come out. A superhuman serial killer.

We are going to the tallest building in the city, The horde is going to be revealed there. There are 3 floors that house a chemical company in that building, I am going to blow up that building using their chemicals David, You might want to try and stop us. Today is your coming out party. At least you know what to wear

I've turned of the water hoses in your room David. There's only the door left...

It's metal, But you can't get through it because peoples bones break against metal, and your nothing special. A lot of people are going to die! Overseer, if you don't. Get through. That door.

Ma'am. I'm here to see if the tales of the extraordinary being are real, the half-man, half-creature.

I'm a comic book expert, Patricia. I believe comic books are a continuation of documentation that has gone on for centuries of what humans are capable of. That they are someone somewhere saw or left. Are you aware that spandex, the underwear on the outside, and boots come from strongmen in the circus in the 1930s?

The freak show men who could do incredible feats of strength. I urge you to look past the capes and monologuing villains. Are you with me?

I only have a minute left. I believe The Beast may be part of this. There are references to man/animal characters. The dual character, the man who has abilities like animals. I'd like to meet The Beast, see if he's real. If he is, then I'll get us all out of here tomorrow night. What's upsetting you, Patricia?

Everything extraordinary can be explained away, and yet it is true. I think deep down you know this. Everything we will see and do will have a basis in science. But it will have limits. This is the real world, not a cartoon. And yet some of us don't die from bullets. Some of us can still bend steel. That is not a fantasy.

It's all evidence, you see? If that train crash hadn't happened, Kevin wouldn't have been left alone with his mother. If Kevin's mother wasn't allowed to abuse him, then The Beast wouldn't have had to be born. What are the odds that David Dunn and Clarence Wendell Crumb would be together that day? Amazing. I created you, as I created David. It just took longer. 19 years. They almost convinced me I was crazy. I create superheroes. I truly am a mastermind.

In comics... you would go to a public place where all could see you. A place celebrating man's pedestrian achievements. But you need David to convince them. You should fight him in front of the world. The tallest building in this city is opening today. All the cameras in the world will record you. You can convince the Horde and the world at the same time. We exist.

My bones break easily. I was born this way. I've had 94 breaks in my life. I've known only pain.

I assume you were sent here to be an avenging angel. How much do you want to avenge us?

Well, that sounds like the bad guys teaming up.

This is where they would paint you with big eyes and bubbles of confusion above your head.

Well, you better shit another pistol out your ass! 'Cause if you don't throw one out here in the next two seconds, we gon' kill this bitch!

OHHH, you believe in Jesus now, huh, bitch? GOOD, 'CAUSE YOU 'BOUT TO MEET HIM!

Move a little strange, you're gonna get a bullet. Not a warning, not a question…

A bullet!

When the handbill says "dead or alive", the rest of us just shoot you in the back from up on top a perch somewhere and bring you in dead over a saddle.

But when John Ruth the Hangman catches you…

You hang!

Beggin' for his life, your boy told me his whole Life Story. And YOU, was in that story General. And when I knew me I had the son, of the Bloody Nigger Killer of Baton Rouge, I knew me I was gonna have some fun! It was COLD the day I killed your boy. And I don't mean snowy mountain in Wyoming cold… Colder than that. And on that cold day, with your boy at the business end of my gun barrel… I made him STRIP. Right down to his bare ass. Then I told him to start walkin'. I walked his naked ass for two hours… 'fore the cold collapsed him. Then he commits to beggin' again. But this time, he wasn't beggin' to go home. He knew he'd never see his home again. And he wasn't beggin' for his life neither, 'cause he knew that was long gone. All he wanted, was a BLANKET. Now don't judge your boy too harshly, General. You ain't never been cold as your boy was that day. You'd be surprised; what a man that cold, would-do-for-a-blanket. You wanna know what your boy did? I pulled my BIG, BLACK, PECKER outta my pants. And I made him crawl in the snow on all fours over to it. Then I grabbed a handful of that black hair at the back of his head… And I stuck my Big Black Johnson right down his goddamn throat! And it was fulla' blood… so it was warm. Oh, you bet your sweet ass it was warm. And Charles Chester Smithers sucked on that warm black dingus for as loong as he could. Hahahaahaha! Startin' to see pictures, ain't ya?

Now, John Ruth was one mighty, mighty bastard. But the last thang that bastard did before he died was save your life. We gonna die, white boy. We ain't got no say in that. There is one thang left we have to say here; and that's how we kill this bitch. I say shootin's too good for her. John Ruth could'a shot her any where, any time along the way, but John Ruth was "The Hangman," and when "The Hangman" catches you, you don't die by no bullet.

You see, my mama used to make stew and it always tasted the same, no matter to me. There was another fella on the plantation, Uncle Charley, he made stew, too. And like my mama, I ate his stew from the time I was a whipper 'till I was a full-grown man. And no matter to me, it always tasted like Uncle Charley's stew.

Now I ain't had Minnie's stew in like six months, so I ain't no expert…

But that damn sure is Minnie's stew. So if Minnie is on the northside just visiting her mama for a week, how'd she make the stew this morning? And this...

This is Sweet Dave's chair. When I sat in it earlier, I couldn't believe it. Nobody sits in Sweet Dave's chair. This may be Minnie's place, but this is damn sure Sweet Dave's chair. And if he went to the northside, I'm pretty goddamned sure this chair'd be going with him.

Just what I thought. Sweet Dave's goddamn blood!

The way I see it, Senior Bob, is whoever is working with her…

... ain't who they say they is, and if it's you, then Minnie and her man ain't at her mama's. They laying out back there dead somewhere.

Or if it's you, little British man, the real Oswaldo Mobray's laying in a ditch somewhere and you're just an English fella passin' off his papers.

The only time black folks are safe, is when white folks is disarmed. And this letter, had the desired effect of disarming white folks.

There was a rookie regiment there spending the overnight in the camp! 47 men, BURNT TO A CRISP! Southern youth, farmer's sons, cream of the crop…

And I say let 'em burn!

I'm supposed to apologize for killin' Johnny Reb? You joined the war to keep niggers in chains. I joined the war to kill white Southern crackers. And that means killing 'em in any way I can! Shoot 'em, stab 'em, drown 'em, burn 'em, throw a big 'ol rock on their heads! Whatever it took to keep white Southern crackers in the ground, that's what I joined the war to do and that's what I did!

Hmm. See, if you would have been here two and a half years ago, you'd know about that sign that used to hang up over the bar. Minnie ever mention that to you?

You wanna know what that sign said, Senior Bob? "No Dogs or Mexicans Allowed." Minnie hung that sign up the day she opened this haberdashery, and it hung over that bar every day until she took it down a little over two years ago. Know why she took it down? She started letting in dogs. Now Minnie like just about everybody, but she sure don't like Mexicans. So when you tell me Minnie went to the northside to visit her mama, well, I find that highly unlikely. But okay, maybe...

But when you tell me Minnie Mink took the haberdashery, the most precious thing to her in the whole world, and left it in the hands of a goddamn Mexican? Well, that's what I meant in the barn when I said that sure don't sound like Minnie. Now I am calling you a liar, Senor Bob...

And if you're lying, which you are, then you killed Minnie...

Considering Minnie's "no hats indoors policy", which if I remember correctly was one of them bar "iron rules". The kind of rule she'd want kept up in her absence. You seem to have a laissez-faire attitude when it comes to the hats.

But you expect me to believe that Minnie Mink left her Haberdashery, the single most precious thing in the world to her, in the hands of a goddamn Mexican? Well, that what I meant when I said that that sure don't sound like Minnie.

My theory is you're working with the man who poisoned the coffee. And both'a y'all murdered Minnie, Sweet Dave, and whoever else picked this bad-luck day to visit Minnie's Haberdashery this morning. And at some point, y'all intended to bushwhack John Ruth and free Daisy. But you didn't count on the blizzard, and you didn't count on the two of us.