The Ladykillers Quotes
An eccentric, if not charming Southern professor and his crew pose as a classical ensemble in order to rob a casino, all under the nose of his unsuspecting but sharp old landlady.
Garth Pancake: Do you know who the Freedom Riders were, MacSam?
Gawain MacSam: No, and I don't give a fuck. Just tell me when the fuck they gonna leave.
Garth Pancake: The Freedom Riders, my fine young man, were a group of concerned liberals from up north, all working together, just like we are here. Involved citizens who came down here so that local black folk could have their civil liberties. So that people like you could have the vote.
Gawain MacSam: You know what, man?
Garth Pancake: What, brother?
Gawain MacSam: I don't vote. So fuck you.
Gawain MacSam: No, and I don't give a fuck. Just tell me when the fuck they gonna leave.
Garth Pancake: The Freedom Riders, my fine young man, were a group of concerned liberals from up north, all working together, just like we are here. Involved citizens who came down here so that local black folk could have their civil liberties. So that people like you could have the vote.
Gawain MacSam: You know what, man?
Garth Pancake: What, brother?
Gawain MacSam: I don't vote. So fuck you.
One-Round: I said nobody was to do her!
[Begins attacking Louis, who beats him continuously over the head with a blackjack. Mrs. Wilberforce comes out of the next room]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Mr. Harvey!
One-Round: I said - I said nobody was to do Mrs. Lopsided!
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Stop that!
[Louis hits One-Round one last time with the blackjack]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: What *are* you doing?
[Adjusting her hat]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: And who is "Mrs. Lopsided," may I ask? Where is Mr. Robinson?
One-Round: He's, uh, he's outside.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Somebody took the key. The cello case is gone!
One-Round: It's, uh, out there too.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Well... bring it in.
[One-Round heads outside]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: I fell asleep. Somebody took the key out of my pocket. I'm *very* angry!
Professor Marcus: As you have every right to be. It's disgraceful, Mrs. Wilberforce, shameful! Mr. Robinson will answer for it.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: [One-Round brings in the cello case] I'll take that, thank you. Professor Marcus, this is another black mark against you. I shall certainly tell the police.
[she goes back into the nextk room]
Professor Marcus: [as she shuts the door] What happened?
One-Round: I thought they'd, uh, done 'er in. I thought, uh, I thought Harry done 'er.
Professor Marcus: So?
One-Round: So all right, I made a mistake!
Professor Marcus: [Puts his face in his hand] Put him in the barrow...
[Begins attacking Louis, who beats him continuously over the head with a blackjack. Mrs. Wilberforce comes out of the next room]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Mr. Harvey!
One-Round: I said - I said nobody was to do Mrs. Lopsided!
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Stop that!
[Louis hits One-Round one last time with the blackjack]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: What *are* you doing?
[Adjusting her hat]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: And who is "Mrs. Lopsided," may I ask? Where is Mr. Robinson?
One-Round: He's, uh, he's outside.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Somebody took the key. The cello case is gone!
One-Round: It's, uh, out there too.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Well... bring it in.
[One-Round heads outside]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: I fell asleep. Somebody took the key out of my pocket. I'm *very* angry!
Professor Marcus: As you have every right to be. It's disgraceful, Mrs. Wilberforce, shameful! Mr. Robinson will answer for it.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: [One-Round brings in the cello case] I'll take that, thank you. Professor Marcus, this is another black mark against you. I shall certainly tell the police.
[she goes back into the nextk room]
Professor Marcus: [as she shuts the door] What happened?
One-Round: I thought they'd, uh, done 'er in. I thought, uh, I thought Harry done 'er.
Professor Marcus: So?
One-Round: So all right, I made a mistake!
Professor Marcus: [Puts his face in his hand] Put him in the barrow...
[She knocks on the door]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: [pacing] Oh, oh dear, oh dear. Poor Mr. Robinson.
[She knocks again; the music stops and Claude opens the door]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: I'm so sorry, Major Courtney, but I'm afraid General Gordon has bitten Mr. Robinson's finger. Now he's on the top of the cabinet and refuses to come down.
Louis: Mr. Robinson is on top of the cabinet?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh, no Mr. Harvey. General Gordon. Mr. Lawson, you're the tallest. Do you think you could try to get him down for us?
One-Round: Sure, I'll get 'im, mum
[he starts down the stairs]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh, I feel I'm being such a bother.
Louis: How could you possibly think a thing like that?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh, you *are* kind.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: [pacing] Oh, oh dear, oh dear. Poor Mr. Robinson.
[She knocks again; the music stops and Claude opens the door]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: I'm so sorry, Major Courtney, but I'm afraid General Gordon has bitten Mr. Robinson's finger. Now he's on the top of the cabinet and refuses to come down.
Louis: Mr. Robinson is on top of the cabinet?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh, no Mr. Harvey. General Gordon. Mr. Lawson, you're the tallest. Do you think you could try to get him down for us?
One-Round: Sure, I'll get 'im, mum
[he starts down the stairs]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh, I feel I'm being such a bother.
Louis: How could you possibly think a thing like that?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh, you *are* kind.
One-Round: [looking blankly at his cello] Are we supposed to make noises with these things? What kind o' noises?
Louis: Who is she?
Professor Marcus: Not "noises," One-Round, *music*!
Louis: I said what does she mean, you...
[Professor Marcus shushes him and turns on the record, dancing a bit to the music]
Louis: Who is she?
Professor Marcus: Not "noises," One-Round, *music*!
Louis: I said what does she mean, you...
[Professor Marcus shushes him and turns on the record, dancing a bit to the music]
[after Louis has 'dealt' with the Major on the roof']
Professor Marcus: Well, where is he? Where *is* the Major? Is he up there still?
Harry: No, no, he, uh, he come down.
Professor Marcus: Well bring him here!
Harry: He come down... with the chimney-pot.
Professor Marcus: With the chimney- ?
[chuckles]
Professor Marcus: Is he hurt?
Louis: I shouldn't think he felt a thing.
Professor Marcus: Well, where is he? Where *is* the Major? Is he up there still?
Harry: No, no, he, uh, he come down.
Professor Marcus: Well bring him here!
Harry: He come down... with the chimney-pot.
Professor Marcus: With the chimney- ?
[chuckles]
Professor Marcus: Is he hurt?
Louis: I shouldn't think he felt a thing.
[Mrs. Wilberforce has just discovered the money. Louis pulls Harry aside]
Louis: We must get her out of here.
Harry: A snatch?
Louis: Get her into the car.
[One of Mrs. Wilberforce's guests arrives]
Louis: We'll have to take them both. We've got to get away!
[Two more guests arrive]
Harry: What do you think we should do? Charter a bus?
Louis: We must get her out of here.
Harry: A snatch?
Louis: Get her into the car.
[One of Mrs. Wilberforce's guests arrives]
Louis: We'll have to take them both. We've got to get away!
[Two more guests arrive]
Harry: What do you think we should do? Charter a bus?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Madam, or rather, mesdames, you must accept our apologies for not bein' able to perform, for, as you see, we are shorthanded. Gawain is still at work, and we could no more play with one part tacit than a horse could canter shy one leg. Perhaps I could offer, as a poor but ready substitute, a brief poetic recital. Though I do not pretend to any great oratorical skills, I would be happy to present, with your ladies' permission, verse from the unquiet mind of Mr. Edgar Allan Poe. Ladies, thy beauty is to me like those Nicean barks of yore, that gently, o'er a perfumed sea, the weary, wayworn wanderer bore, to his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, thy Naiad airs have brought me home to the glory that was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: ...May I ask you where you studied?
One-Round: ...Well, I didn't really study any place, Lady... I just sort of... picked it up.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: You know, I was so surprised when I heard what you were playing. It brought back something that, really, I'd completely forgotten all about: my 21st birthday party. You see, my father had engaged a string quintet to come in and play in the evening; and while they were playing Boccherini, someone came in and said the old queen had passed away. And everyone went home. And that was the end of my party, all that time ago, in Pangbourne.
[Silence]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll run and make the tea. The kettle *must* be nearly on the boil.
[She leaves]
One-Round: Who's she talkin' about? Old queen who?
One-Round: ...Well, I didn't really study any place, Lady... I just sort of... picked it up.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: You know, I was so surprised when I heard what you were playing. It brought back something that, really, I'd completely forgotten all about: my 21st birthday party. You see, my father had engaged a string quintet to come in and play in the evening; and while they were playing Boccherini, someone came in and said the old queen had passed away. And everyone went home. And that was the end of my party, all that time ago, in Pangbourne.
[Silence]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll run and make the tea. The kettle *must* be nearly on the boil.
[She leaves]
One-Round: Who's she talkin' about? Old queen who?
Professor Marcus: You're most kind, and if I may say so, you have a very curious and charming house. Such, um, pretty windows.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh, thank you,
[pointing to a window]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: And I rather favour positions...
Professor Marcus: [interrupting] I always think the windows are the eyes of a house, and didn't someone say the eyes are the windows of the soul?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: I don't really know. Oh, it's such a charming thought, I do hope someone expressed it!
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh, thank you,
[pointing to a window]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: And I rather favour positions...
Professor Marcus: [interrupting] I always think the windows are the eyes of a house, and didn't someone say the eyes are the windows of the soul?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: I don't really know. Oh, it's such a charming thought, I do hope someone expressed it!
[last lines]
The Superintendent: [as she is leaving, the superintendent follows her out with her umbrella] Mrs. Wilberforce, wait! Just a moment!
[Holding out the umbrella]
The Superintendent: You forgot it, mum.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: [Reaches for it, then changes her mind] Oh. Oh, no I don't think I want it. I never liked it. Now I can buy a dozen new ones.
The Superintendent: [as she is leaving, the superintendent follows her out with her umbrella] Mrs. Wilberforce, wait! Just a moment!
[Holding out the umbrella]
The Superintendent: You forgot it, mum.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: [Reaches for it, then changes her mind] Oh. Oh, no I don't think I want it. I never liked it. Now I can buy a dozen new ones.
[Professor Marcus hears the parrots chattering downstairs]
Professor Marcus: What's that? Who's talking?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Well, it's only General Gordon. He belonged to my late husband. I had four.
Professor Marcus: Husbands?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: No, parrots. And now I've only three.
Professor Marcus: Parrots!
Professor Marcus: What's that? Who's talking?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Well, it's only General Gordon. He belonged to my late husband. I had four.
Professor Marcus: Husbands?
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: No, parrots. And now I've only three.
Professor Marcus: Parrots!
Gawain MacSam: Motherfuck!
Professor G.H. Dorr: Yes. Unfortunately, Mrs. Munson has rather complicated the situation.
Gawain MacSam: Yeah, well, I know how to decomplicate it. You bust a cap in that old bitch's head, everything be simple.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Not easy to do. Many reasons. Practical ones. Quiet neighborhood, sleepy town. Reasons of moral repugnance. A harmless woman, a deed conceived and executed in cold blood. Oh, no, Gawain, would that it were simple.
Gawain MacSam: Well, fuck, man! What we gonna do? Give the money back and go to church?
Professor G.H. Dorr: I shudder. I quake. You, sir, are a Buddhist. Is there not a "middle" way?
The General: Mm. Must float like a leaf on the river of life... and kill old lady.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Yes. Unfortunately, Mrs. Munson has rather complicated the situation.
Gawain MacSam: Yeah, well, I know how to decomplicate it. You bust a cap in that old bitch's head, everything be simple.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Not easy to do. Many reasons. Practical ones. Quiet neighborhood, sleepy town. Reasons of moral repugnance. A harmless woman, a deed conceived and executed in cold blood. Oh, no, Gawain, would that it were simple.
Gawain MacSam: Well, fuck, man! What we gonna do? Give the money back and go to church?
Professor G.H. Dorr: I shudder. I quake. You, sir, are a Buddhist. Is there not a "middle" way?
The General: Mm. Must float like a leaf on the river of life... and kill old lady.
Marva Munson: You are a readin' fool, aren't you, Mr. Dorr?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Yes, I must confess. I often find myself more at home in these ancient volumes than I do in the hustle-bustle of the modern world. To me, paradoxically, the literature of the so-called "dead tongues" holds more currency than this morning's newspaper. In these books, in these volumes, there is the accumulated wisdom of mankind, which succors me when the day is hard and the night lonely and long.
Marva Munson: Mm. The wisdom of mankind, huh? What about the wisdom of the Lord?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Oh... Yes, yes. The Good Book, mm. I have found reward in its pages. But, to me, there are other good books as well. Heavy volumes of antiquity freighted with the insights of man's glorious age. And then, of course, I just love, love, love the works of Mr. Edgar Allan Poe.
Marva Munson: Oh, I know who he was. Kinda spooky.
Professor G.H. Dorr: No, madam, no, no. Not of this world, it's true. He... he lived in a dream. An ancient dream. Helen, thy beauty is to me like those Nicean barks of yore, that gently, o'er a perfumed sea, the weary, wayworn wanderer bore to his own native shore.
Marva Munson: Who was Helen? Some kinda whore of Babylon?
Professor G.H. Dorr: One doesn't know who Helen was... but I picture her as being very, very... extremely... pale. Mrs. Munson, I have been trying to figure out some way of expressin' my gratitude to you for takin' in this weary, wayworn wanderer. It's just a little old present. Why, it's hardly anything at all.
Marva Munson: Oh, why, Mr. Dorr! You are a gallant man.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Oh, madam, I blush, I melt. No... I just happened to hear of this gospel concert tomorrow night, "The Mighty, Mighty Clouds of Joy", and I thought you and a friend from church perhaps would...?
Marva Munson: Yes, I have a widow lady friend.
Professor G.H. Dorr: The concert is up in Memphis, so I have arranged a car service to transport you thither.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Yes, I must confess. I often find myself more at home in these ancient volumes than I do in the hustle-bustle of the modern world. To me, paradoxically, the literature of the so-called "dead tongues" holds more currency than this morning's newspaper. In these books, in these volumes, there is the accumulated wisdom of mankind, which succors me when the day is hard and the night lonely and long.
Marva Munson: Mm. The wisdom of mankind, huh? What about the wisdom of the Lord?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Oh... Yes, yes. The Good Book, mm. I have found reward in its pages. But, to me, there are other good books as well. Heavy volumes of antiquity freighted with the insights of man's glorious age. And then, of course, I just love, love, love the works of Mr. Edgar Allan Poe.
Marva Munson: Oh, I know who he was. Kinda spooky.
Professor G.H. Dorr: No, madam, no, no. Not of this world, it's true. He... he lived in a dream. An ancient dream. Helen, thy beauty is to me like those Nicean barks of yore, that gently, o'er a perfumed sea, the weary, wayworn wanderer bore to his own native shore.
Marva Munson: Who was Helen? Some kinda whore of Babylon?
Professor G.H. Dorr: One doesn't know who Helen was... but I picture her as being very, very... extremely... pale. Mrs. Munson, I have been trying to figure out some way of expressin' my gratitude to you for takin' in this weary, wayworn wanderer. It's just a little old present. Why, it's hardly anything at all.
Marva Munson: Oh, why, Mr. Dorr! You are a gallant man.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Oh, madam, I blush, I melt. No... I just happened to hear of this gospel concert tomorrow night, "The Mighty, Mighty Clouds of Joy", and I thought you and a friend from church perhaps would...?
Marva Munson: Yes, I have a widow lady friend.
Professor G.H. Dorr: The concert is up in Memphis, so I have arranged a car service to transport you thither.
Professor G.H. Dorr: What do you think, General? Present any problems? Good then. Gentlemen, why don't we crowd around and go over the plan? Gentlemen, this is the Bandit Queen. Gambling den. Cash cow. Sodom of the Mississippi Delta and the focus of our little exercise. Here is Orchard Street. Here is the residence of Marva Munson, the charming lady whom you all met moments ago. Gentlemen, I'm sure you're all aware that the Solons of the state of Mississippi, to wit, its legislature, have decreed that no gaming establishment shall be erected within its borders upon dry land. They may, however, legally float. While the gambling activity is restricted to these riverboats, no such restrictions apply to the functions ancillary to this cash-besotted business. The casino's offices, locker rooms, facilities to cook and clean, and, most importantly, its counting houses, the reinforced, secret, super-secure repositories of the lucre, may all be situated... wherever. Gawain, where is "wherever"?
Gawain MacSam: Say what?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Where's the money?
Gawain MacSam: Oh. OK, look. At the end of every shift, pit boss brings the cash down to the hold of the ship in a locked cashbox, and once a day all the cash is moved down to the countin' room.
Professor G.H. Dorr: And where is the counting room?
Gawain MacSam: Uh... it be right there in that square where you pointin'.
Professor G.H. Dorr: And what, to flog a horse that if not dead is at this point in mortal danger of expiring, does this little square represent?
Gawain MacSam: Offices. Underground.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Ha! Underground! Mmm! Underground. During the casino's hours of operation, the door to this counting room is fiercely guarded. The door itself is of redoubtable Pittsburgh steel. When the casino closes this entire underground complex is locked up, and the armed guard retreats to the casino's main entrance. There, then, far from the guard, reposes the money, behind a five-inch-thick steel portal, yes. But the walls... the walls are but humble masonry behind which is only the soft, loamy soil deposited over centuries by the Old Man, the meanderin' Mississippi, as it fanned its way back and forth across the great alluvial plain, leaving earth. This earth. The General here, whose curriculum vitae comprehends massive tunnelin' experience through the soil of his native French Indochina, shall be directin' our little old tunnelin' operation. Garth Pancake, though a master of none, is a jack of all those trades corollary to our aim. He will be doin' such fabricatin' and demolition work - as our little caper shall require.
Garth Pancake: Happy to be on board.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Gawain is our proverbial "inside man." He has managed to secure himself a berth on the stodial staff of the Bandit Queen.
Gawain MacSam: Damn skippy!
Professor G.H. Dorr: And this brings us to Lump. To look at Lump, you might wonder what specialized expertise could he possibly offer our merry little old band of miscreants. Well, gentlemen, in a project of such risks, it is imperative to enlist the services of a hooligan, a goon, an ape, a physical brute. Someone who will be our security, our battering ram, our blunt instrument. And, on our behalf, I wish him a warm Mississippi welcome.
Garth Pancake: Fuckin' A.
Gawain MacSam: Whassup, my nigga?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Well, gentlemen, here you are. Men of different backgrounds and differing talents. Men with, in fact, but two things in common: One, you all saw fit to answer my advertisement in the Memphis Scimitar, and two, you're all going to be, in consequence, very, very, incredibly... rich. Let us revel in our adventure, gentlemen. Let us make beautiful music together, and, by all means, let us keep this to ourselves. What we say in this root cellar, let it stay in this root cellar.
Lump Hudson: There's no "I" in "team".
Gawain MacSam: Say what?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Where's the money?
Gawain MacSam: Oh. OK, look. At the end of every shift, pit boss brings the cash down to the hold of the ship in a locked cashbox, and once a day all the cash is moved down to the countin' room.
Professor G.H. Dorr: And where is the counting room?
Gawain MacSam: Uh... it be right there in that square where you pointin'.
Professor G.H. Dorr: And what, to flog a horse that if not dead is at this point in mortal danger of expiring, does this little square represent?
Gawain MacSam: Offices. Underground.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Ha! Underground! Mmm! Underground. During the casino's hours of operation, the door to this counting room is fiercely guarded. The door itself is of redoubtable Pittsburgh steel. When the casino closes this entire underground complex is locked up, and the armed guard retreats to the casino's main entrance. There, then, far from the guard, reposes the money, behind a five-inch-thick steel portal, yes. But the walls... the walls are but humble masonry behind which is only the soft, loamy soil deposited over centuries by the Old Man, the meanderin' Mississippi, as it fanned its way back and forth across the great alluvial plain, leaving earth. This earth. The General here, whose curriculum vitae comprehends massive tunnelin' experience through the soil of his native French Indochina, shall be directin' our little old tunnelin' operation. Garth Pancake, though a master of none, is a jack of all those trades corollary to our aim. He will be doin' such fabricatin' and demolition work - as our little caper shall require.
Garth Pancake: Happy to be on board.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Gawain is our proverbial "inside man." He has managed to secure himself a berth on the stodial staff of the Bandit Queen.
Gawain MacSam: Damn skippy!
Professor G.H. Dorr: And this brings us to Lump. To look at Lump, you might wonder what specialized expertise could he possibly offer our merry little old band of miscreants. Well, gentlemen, in a project of such risks, it is imperative to enlist the services of a hooligan, a goon, an ape, a physical brute. Someone who will be our security, our battering ram, our blunt instrument. And, on our behalf, I wish him a warm Mississippi welcome.
Garth Pancake: Fuckin' A.
Gawain MacSam: Whassup, my nigga?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Well, gentlemen, here you are. Men of different backgrounds and differing talents. Men with, in fact, but two things in common: One, you all saw fit to answer my advertisement in the Memphis Scimitar, and two, you're all going to be, in consequence, very, very, incredibly... rich. Let us revel in our adventure, gentlemen. Let us make beautiful music together, and, by all means, let us keep this to ourselves. What we say in this root cellar, let it stay in this root cellar.
Lump Hudson: There's no "I" in "team".
Marva Munson: Now I want to know what's goin' on.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Oh, indeed, indeed. The thirst for knowledge is a very commendable thing. Though I do believe that when you hear the explanation you shall laugh riotously, slappin' your knee and perhaps even wipin' away a giddy tear, relieved of your former concern. Lump here is an avid collector of Indian arrowheads, and having found one simply lying on your cellar floor - a particularly rare artifact of the Natchez tribe?
Lump Hudson: Nats... what?
Professor G.H. Dorr: He enlisted the entire ensemble in an all-out effort to sift through the subsoil in search of others. And apparently, in doing so, we hit a mother lode of natural gas. I myself became acutely aware of the smell of "rotten eggs." And it was just at this inopportune moment that the General here violated the cardinal rule of this house and lit himself a cigarette.
The General: So sorry.
Marva Munson: Well, what about all that money?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Ah. The money. Well, the money is Mr. Pancake's.
Garth Pancake: That's right.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Who only just remortgaged his home in order to raise the money for a surgical procedure that will correct the wandering eye of his common-law wife, Mountain Water, who suffers from astigmia, strabismus and a general curdling of the vitreous jelly. Mr. Pancake is an ardent foe of the Federal Reserve, and is, in fact, one of those eccentrics one often reads about hoardin' his entire life savings, in Mr. Pancake's case, in a Hefty bag that is his constant companion. The Steel Sak.
Garth Pancake: Don't trust the banks. Never have.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Oh, indeed, indeed. The thirst for knowledge is a very commendable thing. Though I do believe that when you hear the explanation you shall laugh riotously, slappin' your knee and perhaps even wipin' away a giddy tear, relieved of your former concern. Lump here is an avid collector of Indian arrowheads, and having found one simply lying on your cellar floor - a particularly rare artifact of the Natchez tribe?
Lump Hudson: Nats... what?
Professor G.H. Dorr: He enlisted the entire ensemble in an all-out effort to sift through the subsoil in search of others. And apparently, in doing so, we hit a mother lode of natural gas. I myself became acutely aware of the smell of "rotten eggs." And it was just at this inopportune moment that the General here violated the cardinal rule of this house and lit himself a cigarette.
The General: So sorry.
Marva Munson: Well, what about all that money?
Professor G.H. Dorr: Ah. The money. Well, the money is Mr. Pancake's.
Garth Pancake: That's right.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Who only just remortgaged his home in order to raise the money for a surgical procedure that will correct the wandering eye of his common-law wife, Mountain Water, who suffers from astigmia, strabismus and a general curdling of the vitreous jelly. Mr. Pancake is an ardent foe of the Federal Reserve, and is, in fact, one of those eccentrics one often reads about hoardin' his entire life savings, in Mr. Pancake's case, in a Hefty bag that is his constant companion. The Steel Sak.
Garth Pancake: Don't trust the banks. Never have.
Gawain MacSam: Would you tell this muthafucka he can sew this shit back on? It's like that dude whose wife cut his dick off, threw it on the freeway? She just called Triple A, they towed the dick and sewed the muthafucka back on. Listen up, jackass, I saw the muthafucka in a porno, the thang still worked, it looked like a chewed-up frank, but that little muthafucka be workin' that muthafucka. It's mangly, but he be fuckin' the bitch all kind of ways with a twisted dick.
[Professor Marcus enters the phone booth right as the phone rings. On the other end, Claude is in another phone booth outside the train station, watching Mrs. Wilberforce collect their trunk]
Professor Marcus: Now, Major, before we start, let's press button A, shall we?... That's better... Major. Ma - Major! I want you to keep calm, speak quietly, and concentrate. Have you got that? Splendid. Mrs. W. should be coming into view just about...
[hums]
Professor Marcus: ... now... Now she's driving away.
[She does, but comes back]
Professor Marcus: . Major, Major, Major
[throws phone book]
Professor Marcus: RELAX! Calm down!
Claude: Back to the station! She's come back to the station!
Louis: [Enters phone booth] What's wrong? Major!
Professor Marcus: Louis! Louis!
Louis: Major, tell me what's happening! Major!
Professor Marcus: Louis! Louis, will you mind your own business, please!
Harry: [Now Harry is in the phone booth too, and One-Round tries to squeeze in with them] Louis! Give us a listen, Louis! Come on, let me hear, will you? I want to hear!
[to One-Round]
Harry: Get out! Louis, I want to hear what he says!
Louis: [to One-Round] You get out! Major, tell me what's happening!
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: [Comes out of the train station with her umbrella] I'm always leaving it.
Louis: [Professor Marcus is laughing] What's she doing?
One-Round: What's going on here?
Professor Marcus: It's all right, it's just that she went back to get her umbrella!
Professor Marcus: Now, Major, before we start, let's press button A, shall we?... That's better... Major. Ma - Major! I want you to keep calm, speak quietly, and concentrate. Have you got that? Splendid. Mrs. W. should be coming into view just about...
[hums]
Professor Marcus: ... now... Now she's driving away.
[She does, but comes back]
Professor Marcus: . Major, Major, Major
[throws phone book]
Professor Marcus: RELAX! Calm down!
Claude: Back to the station! She's come back to the station!
Louis: [Enters phone booth] What's wrong? Major!
Professor Marcus: Louis! Louis!
Louis: Major, tell me what's happening! Major!
Professor Marcus: Louis! Louis, will you mind your own business, please!
Harry: [Now Harry is in the phone booth too, and One-Round tries to squeeze in with them] Louis! Give us a listen, Louis! Come on, let me hear, will you? I want to hear!
[to One-Round]
Harry: Get out! Louis, I want to hear what he says!
Louis: [to One-Round] You get out! Major, tell me what's happening!
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: [Comes out of the train station with her umbrella] I'm always leaving it.
Louis: [Professor Marcus is laughing] What's she doing?
One-Round: What's going on here?
Professor Marcus: It's all right, it's just that she went back to get her umbrella!
Professor G.H. Dorr: To penetrate the vault here this afternoon, while Mrs. Munson is at church, havin' blasted that little old rock to pieces durin' Mrs. Munson's choir practice. Garth, can you run us through the game plan for what remains of our tunnel?
Garth Pancake: Of course. Why, it's child's play now. Easiest thing in the world. Only a couple of feet separate us from the vault. Just the usual spadework until we get to the masonry of the vault, and then we just drill through.
Professor G.H. Dorr: And will you be able to wield the drill with your maimed extremity?
Garth Pancake: Oh, well, yeah, I should think so. Yeah, it's, uh, it's only one finger. Inhibits me in doing finer work of course. I'll always have to live with that. Maybe - I'm just thinkin' out loud here - maybe, since as you say there will be problems later, maybe - and I actually mentioned this to Mountain Girl, she agrees with me, so it's not just one person's opinion - maybe, uh... I should get a little extra compensation for the accident. Somewhat larger share. Why, if this was any other line of work, I'd be getting workman's comp. Wouldn't I? Might even have a pretty good lawsuit.
Gawain MacSam: Wait, so you gonna sue yourself for blowing your own goddamn finger off?
Garth Pancake: Well, now that is simply asinine.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Yes, but you see, Garth, this is not what you just called "some other line of work."
Garth Pancake: Yeah, no, no, no, but if it were...
Professor G.H. Dorr: This is a criminal enterprise, not to put too fine a point on it, entailing any manner of risk not involved in honest labor. Governmental regulations and civic safeguards cannot be assumed to apply to antisocial pursuits.
Lump Hudson: Yeah, but he lost his finger.
Gawain MacSam: We don't give a fuck! That fool could blow his goddamn dick off, it don't make no nevermind to us! We not payin' this jackass for goin' around blowin' off goddamn body parts! Get yo' fuckin' head out yo' ass, man!
Garth Pancake: Look you, there is no call for...
The General: No extra share!
Garth Pancake: OK. Majority rules. Like I say, it was just a trial balloon. Hand's not so bad really. I even get some phantom feeling.
Gawain MacSam: Yeah, you pull on your prick, you get some phantom feelin'.
Garth Pancake: Fuck you.
Gawain MacSam: Fuck you.
Garth Pancake: Fuck you!
Gawain MacSam: Fuck you, nubbie!
Professor G.H. Dorr: Well, now that that matter is settled, why don't we synchronize our watches before Gawain reports to work. In 20 seconds, it will be exactly 12:16. Fifteen...
Garth Pancake: What, it'll be 12:15?
Professor G.H. Dorr: No, 15 seconds. Well, 11 seconds now. It'll be 12:16. Eight, seven...
Lump Hudson: Professor? Prof...?
Professor G.H. Dorr: ...six... five... Yes, Lump!
Lump Hudson: I don't have a watch.
Garth Pancake: Of course. Why, it's child's play now. Easiest thing in the world. Only a couple of feet separate us from the vault. Just the usual spadework until we get to the masonry of the vault, and then we just drill through.
Professor G.H. Dorr: And will you be able to wield the drill with your maimed extremity?
Garth Pancake: Oh, well, yeah, I should think so. Yeah, it's, uh, it's only one finger. Inhibits me in doing finer work of course. I'll always have to live with that. Maybe - I'm just thinkin' out loud here - maybe, since as you say there will be problems later, maybe - and I actually mentioned this to Mountain Girl, she agrees with me, so it's not just one person's opinion - maybe, uh... I should get a little extra compensation for the accident. Somewhat larger share. Why, if this was any other line of work, I'd be getting workman's comp. Wouldn't I? Might even have a pretty good lawsuit.
Gawain MacSam: Wait, so you gonna sue yourself for blowing your own goddamn finger off?
Garth Pancake: Well, now that is simply asinine.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Yes, but you see, Garth, this is not what you just called "some other line of work."
Garth Pancake: Yeah, no, no, no, but if it were...
Professor G.H. Dorr: This is a criminal enterprise, not to put too fine a point on it, entailing any manner of risk not involved in honest labor. Governmental regulations and civic safeguards cannot be assumed to apply to antisocial pursuits.
Lump Hudson: Yeah, but he lost his finger.
Gawain MacSam: We don't give a fuck! That fool could blow his goddamn dick off, it don't make no nevermind to us! We not payin' this jackass for goin' around blowin' off goddamn body parts! Get yo' fuckin' head out yo' ass, man!
Garth Pancake: Look you, there is no call for...
The General: No extra share!
Garth Pancake: OK. Majority rules. Like I say, it was just a trial balloon. Hand's not so bad really. I even get some phantom feeling.
Gawain MacSam: Yeah, you pull on your prick, you get some phantom feelin'.
Garth Pancake: Fuck you.
Gawain MacSam: Fuck you.
Garth Pancake: Fuck you!
Gawain MacSam: Fuck you, nubbie!
Professor G.H. Dorr: Well, now that that matter is settled, why don't we synchronize our watches before Gawain reports to work. In 20 seconds, it will be exactly 12:16. Fifteen...
Garth Pancake: What, it'll be 12:15?
Professor G.H. Dorr: No, 15 seconds. Well, 11 seconds now. It'll be 12:16. Eight, seven...
Lump Hudson: Professor? Prof...?
Professor G.H. Dorr: ...six... five... Yes, Lump!
Lump Hudson: I don't have a watch.
Professor G.H. Dorr: Perhaps if you apologize to the man, gave him flowers... uh... perhaps a fruit basket with a card depicting a misty seascape and inscribed with a sentiment.
Gawain MacSam: I ain't apologisin' to that mutha fuckuh. He fired me because I'm black!
Professor G.H. Dorr: Surely a chocolate assortment has been known to melt the heart of even the hardest misanthrope.
Gawain MacSam: That muthuhfuckuh ain't rollin over for no candybar!
Gawain MacSam: I ain't apologisin' to that mutha fuckuh. He fired me because I'm black!
Professor G.H. Dorr: Surely a chocolate assortment has been known to melt the heart of even the hardest misanthrope.
Gawain MacSam: That muthuhfuckuh ain't rollin over for no candybar!
[Harry and Marcus are distracting Mrs. Wilberforce while Louis deals with the Major on the roof]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: It won't do any harm to tell you now that Major Courtney has gone to the police. They'll be here shortly.
[there is a loud crash from outside]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh! Whatever is that?
Harry: I expect something fell off the roof, mum.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: The roof?
Harry: Probably a... chimney-pot.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: A chimney-pot?
Professor Marcus: See who it is, Harry
[pushes Harry out the door]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: It won't do any harm to tell you now that Major Courtney has gone to the police. They'll be here shortly.
[there is a loud crash from outside]
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: Oh! Whatever is that?
Harry: I expect something fell off the roof, mum.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: The roof?
Harry: Probably a... chimney-pot.
Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce: A chimney-pot?
Professor Marcus: See who it is, Harry
[pushes Harry out the door]
