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: Please, mister. This is insane. Otis B. Driftwood
: Boy, the next word that comes out of your mouth better be some brilliant fuckin' Mark Twain shit. 'Cause it's definitely getting chiseled on your tombstone.
: Please... Stop... Otis B. Driftwood
: Stop? Bitch, I have just started.
: Where are you taking us? Otis B. Driftwood
: Well I guess it wouldn't do no harm to tell you none, let's see ah, we're going to go dig up some guns I buried out here a couple of years ago. Roy Sullivan
: Then what? Otis B. Driftwood
: Well there ain't no what, that's the end of the road. Roy Sullivan
: What?... your'e not gonna kill us are ya? Otis B. Driftwood
: Killing sounds so permanent.