-Narrative: The thing bein' a gun-runna' is, ya' have ta' look out fer yer' crew, and not just their backs. Ya' never know who might put a bullet in yer back, betray ya', or be a cop. Wonda'ful.-

-Setting: We see Jersey and Matt leave a small building, going towards a loading dock. There, we see men moving crates. Though we see crates, they are, in fact, guns. Two vans pull up to be loaded. Jersey, Matt, and three other guys gather around. They are all dressed normally, i.e., discreetly.-

JERSEY: Ah, wonderin' if ya' faries were comin' in, or we had ta' do all the work.

-Narrative: The three gents with me are Mack, Richard, and Phil. Mack is a beefcake, some ex-juicer who desided being a gun-runna' had more thrills. Richard's parents ran a smugglin' business out of the Big Cheese in Milwakee. Lookin' more like a lawyer than a arms deala', Richard happened ta' be one of the best driva's around. Phil is a psycho on wheels. The guy is completely unbearable. But, when the shit hits the fan, Phil is definately the best guy ta' have around. Doesn't make it up that he's a complete wanka'.-

PHIL: Fuck you, damn Brit! I outta go over there an' give you my foot up your ass!

JERSEY: Betta' watch out, pussyfoot, otha'wise, I'll make ya' run back ta' yer boyfriend.

MATT: C'mon, guys, can we please measure dick sizes later, when the job's done?

MACK: Matt's right, pound each other later. That way, at least we have money to bet on who's ass gets pummeled.

RICHARD: So, what did Sid fatso say? What's the score?

JERSEY: Me and Matt are the pizza boys this time around. Richard, Mack, sit on the hardware. Phil sits on the money, and on his thumb.

PHIL: Careful, bitch, otherwise you'll be sitting on my dick.

JERSEY: Kiss my ass with that mouth?

-Mack at this points steps inbetween them. Jersey and Phil quit bickering, but resolve to have a staring match.-

RICHARD: So, who's the buyers?

JERSEY: Ya' don't wanna know.

MACK: ATF?

MATT: The Syndicate.

PHIL: Shit, man, them! Fuck! Rather deal to fucking drug lords on crack.

JERSEY: Quit yer whinin'. We do as we're told, and we'll be fine. They're gettin' more than usual, but they aren't payin' like it.

RICHARD: Cheap bastards.

MATT: Can't tell them no, eitha'. Look what they did to the docks, all that said no, they burned them out. All exits. During workin' hours. Smart ones got 'lot smarta' afta' that.

JERSEY: The meet's in three days. Get drunk, get laid, get high, arrested fer all I care, but be here by Friday. Ya' don't want ta' face the consequences if yer not.

-The others nod soberly. Richard pulls out a Polaroid camera, and takes a snapshot of Jersey and Matt standing together.-

MATT: What the hell ya' do that fer?

RICHARD: It's gonna be your tenth run this year.

JERSEY: No shit?

MACK: No shit.

JERSEY: Fuck me. Let's get wasted, first two rounds are on me.

-The group cheers at this, even Phil. Richard gives the Polaroid to Jersey.-

-Narrative: My crew was the best I worked with. Assembled them myself. I knew when I could trust them, and what I could trust them with. Like the movie said, keep yer friends close, yer enemies closa'.-

03/18/2002

Posted on 03/18/2002
Copyright © 2024 Jersey D Gibson