You’re going to do this for me, or I’m going to clip your nuts, like I clipped your daddy’s.
Son, I knew your daddy. He worked for me for years. Years. Then he wanted his own thing. You play the horses? You know they either geld the horse with a knife or with chemicals. When your Daddy said no to me, I did him the chemical way. Gave your mother a taste. Got the hook into her. Ahh, she doped up good and proper. Hung herself with a wire, on Melnea Cass. And you, running around the neighborhood looking for her. Your daddy didn’t have the heart to tell his son that he was looking for a suicide doper who was never coming home. If there’s a Heaven son, she ain’t in it.
I wouldn’t hire them without you. And I wouldn’t hire you without them. You’re a unit.
Not gonna cut it. Do you think I’m gonna put your flipper head on this? You’re going to do what I ask.
Cash is brought out and stacked fifteen minutes before the van does the pick up. That is when you hit. On Monday morning, before game stands in New York, sixty thousand beers, food, merchandise. Total call; three and a half million. Taking down the cathedral of Boston? Priceless.
Do I hear you got a sweet new girlfriend?
You know they either geld a horse with a knife or with chemicals. When your Daddy said “no” to me, I did him the chemical way.
