Soul of a Whore and Purvis (24 page)

BABY FACE
: What what WHAT are we discussing, John?

DILLINGER
: The lie, the fraud, the giant fairy tale.

Our entire history. For instance,

The possibility that John Wilkes Booth

Is innocent of any crime would merit

Scrutiny.

BABY FACE
:         Well, you can scrutalize

The page from Sears and Roebuck I just wiped with.

DILLINGER
:…It's not my deeds that poison me. It's all

The mucus of the slugs like you my deeds

Surround me with. I pass out drunk and wake

with you and Hoover wriggling over my lips.

BABY FACE
: Mmmmm, lovah boy! Kiss my wriggle!

DILLINGER
: We're revolutionaries.

BABY FACE
:                                  O yeah? Where's

The revolution? You can just point.

DILLINGER
: We stand up for the man with empty pockets.

BABY FACE
: I'd pick his pockets, if they wasn't empty.

That's my whole philosophy in a nutshell.

DILLINGER
: The nutshell's on your shoulders.

BABY FACE
:                                                      Mi mi mi,

[
sings
]
O, the G-men had no guns in Kansas City,

Mowed 'em down like wheat before the scythe,

The G-men had no guns in Kansas City,

And that's why there's three less of 'em alive.

DILLINGER
: That Pretty Boy Floyd, he fixed their stuff, all right.

BABY FACE
: Floyd was not the guy in Kansas City.

They're after him for what he never did.

They'll end up catching him, too, and then he'll swing.

DILLINGER
: Or fry.

BABY FACE
:           Or sizzle.

DILLINGER
:                            Or stretch.

BABY FACE
:                                              His eyes will bug.

DILLINGER
: He'll get as purple as a summer grape.

BABY FACE
: He never shot those guys. Tough luck.

DILLINGER
: Who did the deed?

BABY FACE
:                                  The world's so scared

Nobody's talking, John, but I know for
dead

That one of 'em was Big-dick Jimmy Lawrence.

DILLINGER
: Jimmy Lawrence?

BABY FACE
:                            Anna's paramoor!

He laid 'em down like wheat before the wind.

DILLINGER
: So if the G-men spiced old James with lead

That'd only be the simplest form of justice.

BABY FACE
: Shut up! Guys like you and me should never

Call for justice. What if the Devil hears?

DILLINGER
: There ain't no Devil…What are you looking at?

BABY FACE
: Look into my eyes. There's nothing here.

There ain't no soul. Just two black dots. O yeah!

DILLINGER
: Can that noise, Prince Albert. You're not Lucifer.

BABY FACE
: I ain't Lucifer, I'm just the proof

He walks the night and steals the souls

And gnashes them down laughing—FREEZE! I SEE YOU!

DILLINGER
: It's two a.m. What could be out that window?

BABY FACE
: Nighthawks.

DILLINGER
:                       Nighthawks?

BABY FACE
:                                            Werewolfs.

DILLINGER
:                                                                  Werewolves?

BABY FACE
: Look,

It's voodoo doctors out to rob me of

My guts and oysters for their ceremonies.

We're too near the Mississippi River!

DILLINGER
: What? Take yourself a slug and get a grip.

BABY FACE
: That Creole sorcery!—with roots from under

The gallows and dirt from witches' graves in tiny

Tins tied up with string. And babies dragged out

Dead from their mother's basket in a whore house.

DILLINGER
: Dragged from their mother's basket?

BABY FACE
:                                                          Not-yet babies,

Floating in jars of rum!

When I'm buried they'll come a thousand miles

To steal my marker and my dirt. I'm bad.

Jesus Christ pukes at the sight of me,

And Satan hides in Hell when he sees my shadow.

Every roll I throw, it comes up snake-eyes.

Black cat crossed my path last night and snarled

And died. My mama never even named me—

Only spit in my face and laid a curse.

DILLINGER
: Fetuses hunching in formaldehyde…

BABY FACE
: Say, Perfesser. Foot-and-a-half-long words.

Remember what your aunt Matilda says—

“Never use words no longer than your whizzer.”

In your case, shrink them down about this size.

Say, now: Jimmy Lawrence—

DILLINGER
:                                            I rob banks.

I rob banks, and if they ever catch me—

Which
they'll never—they won't catch me alive,

I'll go down fighting.

BABY FACE
:                          What a load a bull!

DILLINGER
: I'll face my chasers and die my death with two

Bollocks full of red blood in my sack

And a couple pounds of government-issue lead

And copper peppering my meat.

BABY FACE
:                                              O Jeez,

Somebody hand me the gut wrench before I lose

My breakfast lunch and dinner.

DILLINGER
:                                          We are bandits.

BABY FACE
: Finally something we agree about.

DILLINGER
: Bad and good stand always eye to eye.

The law curses us and blesses them,

But we're all laboring in Satan's vineyard.

We take, but they guard bigger takers;

We march on our own orders, they obey

The orders of the big boss criminals;

We commit crimes and do our time like men,

They perpetrate injustices and breathe

Steam on their badges and rub up a shine.—What's that?

BABY FACE
: What's what.

DILLINGER
:                        Shut up.

BABY FACE
:                                      I am.

DILLINGER
:                                                   Shut
up
.

BABY FACE
:                                                               I
am.

DILLINGER
: What's going on out there in west Wisconsin?

BABY FACE
: It's just a coupla guys. Them two from Quincy.

DILLINGER
: Yeah, but over there—no,
there
—you see

That shadow leaning against that car?—now that's

A gun wrapped up in his coat, or I ain't white.

BABY FACE
: You're white as rice.

DILLINGER
:                                      That is a low-down lawman.

BABY FACE
: That's a carload of 'em.

DILLINGER
:                                        That ain't the only car.

What are we gonna do?

BABY FACE
:                                 Excuse me, there?

DILLINGER
: What's our plan of escape?

BABY FACE
:                                         Excuse? Excape?

We're gonna shoot it out!

DILLINGER
:                                   O no we're not.

BABY FACE
: Do you see this? Observe. Now see that cop?

…Now see the way that cop is sort of dead?

…Get off the floor!

DILLINGER
:                         Don't talk to me! Don't talk to me!

BABY FACE
: Gee, Ma, it's rainin'!

DILLINGER
:                                      I don't want to die!

BABY FACE
: O looky there, they shot the guy from Quincy!

DILLINGER
: I
told
you next time they'd have Howitzers!

BABY FACE
: I'm gonna shoot the other guy from Quincy!

…O jeez, they're shooting up my brand-new Stutz!

DILLINGER
: Look. They're all around us. Let's surrender.

BABY FACE
:…SEND FOR REINFORCEMENTS, G-MEN BASTARDS!

YOU AIN'T PUTTING ME IN YOUR DIRTY ZOO!

YOU THINK I'M A GIRAFFE? THEN WHAT'S THIS HERE?

DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THE PROPERTY OF A GIRAFFE?

GOD BLESS JOHN THOMAS!

DILLINGER
:
Who's John Thomas?

BABY FACE
: Didn't he invent the tommy gun?

DILLINGER
: General Thompson invented the tommy gun.

…Nelson, Nelson, you're just aggravating

Half the U.S. Army. Let's talk terms.

BABY FACE
: What's yer poison, Johnny? Bullets, or bullshit?

DILLINGER
: I'd rather be in prison than the grave.

BABY FACE
: Either place, you rot. WE'RE WAITIN', G-MEN.

DILLINGER
: Signal them.

BABY FACE
:
No white flag, chump.

DILLINGER
:
Come on!

BABY FACE
: Get up off that floor OR I WILL SHOOT YOU.

Johnny, I am waltzing outa here

With a sunshine smile and cunt-hair in my teeth.

DILLINGER
: Even if we get downstairs, what then?

BABY FACE
: You don't get it! THIS IS A SHORT RIDE.

We're in the funhouse—here's the accelerator.

…All right, Perfesser, point the thing and shoot.

DILLINGER
:…Have you done this much?

BABY FACE
:
Not much.

DILLINGER
:
How much?

BABY FACE
: Not very much at all.

DILLINGER
:
Me too. How many times?

BABY FACE
: Actual face-to-face fighting with bastards with guns Like those?

DILLINGER
:
I wasn't made for this.

BABY FACE
:
I was!

I live at the end of the world!

They'll never take me alive!

And the angels with a sword to bring it down

Holy moly Molly on my head

And the lion riding backwards on a smoking

Dragon and the Whore from Babylon!

[
Sings
]
Gimme that old-time religion,

Gimme that old-time religion,

Gimme that old-time religion,

It's good enough for me!

BOTH
[
singing
]:
It was good for the Hebrew fathers,

It was good for the Hebrew fathers,

It was good for the Hebrew fathers,

It's good enough for me!

DILLINGER
: Give 'em hell! I love a shooting gallery!

And this is the real McCoy!

BABY FACE
:                                     Do you want real?

DO YOU WANT REAL RIGHT UP YOUR ASSHOLE, MELVIN?

DILLINGER
: TAKE THAT, PURVIS! This is glorious!

BABY FACE
: Gunplay is funplay! Come on, Johnny.

DILLINGER
: Where do you think you're going, idiot?

BABY FACE
: You think I'm staying here and going to jail?

DILLINGER
: We can't escape from here. But I escaped

From jail last March. And I can do it again.

BABY FACE
: They don't want us jailed, they want us dead,

And that's what they'll get! And them dead too!

He exits walking backwards while firing toward the window.

BABY FACE
[
singing
]:
It's gonna take us all to Heaven,

It's gonna take us all to Heaven,

It's gonna take us all to Heaven,

It's good enough for me.

DILLINGER
is alone with the bound young woman.

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