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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.
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?
Your bones don't break, mine do. That's clear. Your cells react to bacteria
and viruses differently than mine. You don't get sick, I do. That's also clear.
But for some reason, you and I react the exact same way to water. We swallow it
too fast, we choke. We get some in our lungs, we drown. However unreal it may
seem, we are connected, you and I. We're on the same curve, just on opposite
Do you see any Teletubbies in here? Do you see a slender plastic tag clipped to my shirt with
my name printed on it? Do you see a little Asian child with a blank expression on his face
sitting outside on a mechanical helicopter that shakes when you put quarters in it? No? Well,
that's what you see at a toy store. And you must think you're in a toy store, because you're
here shopping for an infant named Jeb.