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: 'Cause you, you're part eggplant.
] Vincenzo Coccotti
: Ohhh! Clifford Worley
: Huh? Hey! Hey! Hey!
[motioning with his hand three times
] Vincenzo Coccotti
: You're a cantaloupe.
[shoots Cliff in the face
: Sicilians are great liars. The best in the world. I'm Sicilian. My father was the world heavy-weight champion of Sicilian liars. From growing up with him I learned the pantomime. There are seventeen different things a guy can do when he lies to give himself away. A guys got seventeen pantomimes. A woman's got twenty, but a guy's got seventeen... but, if you know them, like you know your own face, they beat lie detectors all to hell. Now, what we got here is a little game of show and tell. You don't wanna show me nothin', but you're tellin me everything. I know you know where they are, so tell me before I do some damage you won't walk away from.
: I haven't seen Clarence. Coccotti
: You see that?
[Holding a clenched fist in one direction, then striking Clifford with the other
: That smarts, doesn't it? Getting slammed in the nose. Fucks you all up. You get that pain shootin' through your brain, your eyes fill up with water. That ain't any kind of fun, but what I have to offer you, that's as good as it's gonna get. And it won't ever get that good again. We talked to your neighbors. They saw a Cadillac. Purple Cadillac. Clarence's purple Cadillac, parked in front of your trailer yesterday. Mr. Worley, you seen your son?
: You know who I am, Mr. Worley? Clifford Worley
: I give up. Who are you? Coccotti
: I'm the Anti-Christ. You got me in a vendetta kind of mood. You tell the angels in heaven you never seen evil so singularly personified as you did in the face of the man who killed you. My name is Vincent Coccotti. I work as counsel for Mr. Blue Lou Boyle, the man your son stole from. I hear you were once a cop so I can assume you've heard of us before. Am I correct? Clifford Worley
: I've heard of Blue Lou Boyle. Coccotti
: I'm glad. Hopefully that will clear up the "how full of shit am I?" question you've been asking yourself.
: Now, what we got here is a little game of show and tell. You don't wanna show me nothing but you're telling me everything.
: You're Sicilian, huh? Coccotti
: Yeah, Sicilian. Clifford Worley
: Ya know, I read a lot. Especially about things... about history. I find that shit fascinating. Here's a fact I don't know whether you know or not. Sicilians were spawned by niggers. Coccotti
: [He does a double take
] Come again? Clifford Worley
: It's a fact. Yeah. You see, uh, Sicilians have, uh, black blood pumpin' through their hearts. Hey, no, if eh, if eh, if you don't believe me, uh, you can look it up. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, uh, you see, uh, the Moors conquered Sicily. And the Moors are niggers. Coccotti
: Yes... Clifford Worley
: So you see, way back then, uh, Sicilians were like, uh, wops from Northern Italy. Ah, they all had blonde hair and blue eyes, but, uh, well, then the Moors moved in there, and uh, well, they changed the whole country. They did so much fuckin' with Sicilian women, huh? That they changed the whole bloodline forever. That's why blonde hair and blue eyes became black hair and dark skin. You know, it's absolutely amazing to me to think that to this day, hundreds of years later, that, uh, that Sicilians still carry that nigger gene. Now this...
[Coccotti busts out laughing
] Clifford Worley
: No, I'm, no, I'm quoting... history. It's written. It's a fact, it's written. Coccotti
] I love this guy. Clifford Worley
: Your ancestors are niggers. Uh-huh.
[Starts laughing, too
] Clifford Worley
: Hey. Yeah. And, and your great-great-great-great grandmother fucked a nigger, ho, ho, yeah, and she had a half-nigger kid... now, if that's a fact, tell me, am I lying? 'Cause you, you're part eggplant.
: You know, I don't believe you. Coccotti
: That's of minor importance. What is of major fucking importance is that I believe you.
: I haven't killed anybody since 1984. Goddamn his soul to burn for eternity in fucking hell for making me get my hands dirty. Go over to this comedian's son's apartment, come back with something that tells me where that asshole went, so I can wipe this egg off my face and finish this fucked-up family for good.
: ...your son, the cowboy, it's claimed, came in the room blazin', and didn't stop 'till they were pretty sure everybody was dead. Clifford Worley
: What are you talkin' about? Vincenzo Coccotti
: Talkin' about a massacre. They snatched my narcotics, hightailed it outta there. Woulda got away with it, but your son, fuckhead that he is, left his driver's license in a dead guy's hand.
: We're gonna have a little Q&A, and at the risk of sounding redundant, please... make your answers genuine.