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[Recalling his gunfighting career
: I must have killed more men than Cecil B. DeMille.
: [Hears a crash in the prison cells
] The drunk in number two must be awake.
[Walks over to the cell
: Are we awake? Jim
: We're not sure. Are we... black? Bart
: Yes, we are. Jim
: Then we're awake... but we're very puzzled.
[Jim downs a bottle of whiskey in one long guzzle
: A man drink like that and he don't eat, he is going to DIE. Jim
: I better go check out this Mongo character.
[Bart reaches for his gun
: Oh no, don't do that, don't do that. If you shoot him, you'll just make him mad.
: Uh-oh, Bart. I think Mongo here's taken a liking to you. Mongo
: Huh-huh, naw, Mongo straight.
: [consoling Bart
] What did you expect? "Welcome, sonny"? "Make yourself at home"? "Marry my daughter"? You've got to remember that these are just simple farmers. These are people of the land. The common clay of the new West. You know... morons.
: Well, Jim, since you are my guest and I am your host, what's your pleasure? What do you like to do? Jim
: Oh, I don't know. Play chess... screw... Bart
] Well, let's play chess.
: Well, it got so that every piss-ant prairie punk who thought he could shoot a gun would ride into town to try out the Waco Kid. I must have killed more men than Cecil B. DeMille. It got pretty gritty. I started to hear the word "draw" in my sleep. Then one day, I was just walking down the street when I heard a voice behind me say, "Reach for it, mister!" I spun around... and there I was, face to face with a six-year old kid. Well, I just threw my guns down and walked away. Little bastard shot me in the ass. So I limped to the nearest saloon, crawled inside a whiskey bottle... and I've been there ever since.
[to two members of the KKK, while pretending to capture Bart
: Oh, boys! Lookee what I got heyuh. Bart
: Hey, where are the white women at?
: Sign here.
[Bart reaches for the pen... revealing his black hands
] Why, Rhett! How many times have I told you to wash up after weekly cross burning?
[licks his fingers, then rubs Bart's hand
: See, it's coming off.
[Taggart whips off Bart's hood
: And now, for my next impression... Jesse Owens.
: I'm rapidly becoming a big underground success in this town. Jim
: See? In another twenty-five years, you'll be able to shake their hands in broad daylight.
: What's your name? Jim
: Well, my name is Jim, but most people call me... Jim.
: [who still has his popcorn and soda from the Chinese Theater
] Where you headed, cowboy? Bart
: Nowhere special. Jim
: Nowhere special? I always wanted to go there. Bart
: Come on.
[Jim mounts up and they ride off into the sunset... in a limousine!
: Now what the hell do you think you're doin' with that tin star, boy? Bart
: Watch that "boy" shit, redneck. You talkin' to the sheriff of Rock Ridge. Taggart
: Well, now if that don't beat all. Here we take the good time and trouble to slaughter every last Indian in the West, and for what? So they can appoint a sheriff that's blacker'n any Indian! I am depressed. Lyle
: Excuse me, Mr. Taggart, sir, but I sure do hate to see you like this. What if me and the boys was to shoot that nigger dead? Would that pep you up some? Taggart
: That might help. Lyle
: All right, boys! On the count of three! Jim
: I wouldn't do that if I were you. Lyle
: Don't pay no attention to that alkie. He can't even hold a gun, much less shoot it.
[Jim blows on his fingertips
: Like I said, on the count of three. One... two... three!
[Jim draws. The cowboys' guns are suddenly shot of their hands in quick succession. Cut back to Jim, his arms folded, smoke pouring from his holsters
: Well, don't just sit there lookin' stupid, graspin' your hands in pain. How 'bout a little...
[he draws his own gun
: ... applause for the Waco Kid?
[dumbfounded, Taggart and his men start clapping
: I'd better sit up.
[struggles to straighten himself
: Need any help? Jim
: Oh... all I can get.
: Checkmate. Jim
: What? Bart
: Checkmate. Jim
: Why, you devious son of a bitch.
[picking up his whiskey bottle
: Happy days.
: [Bart comes in after spending the night with Lili Von Stupp
] Oh deary dear. Look what the cat dragged in.
: [to Bart
] What's a dazzling urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?
: Look at my hand.
[raises hand and holds it level
: Steady as a rock. Jim
: [raises his other hand, which is violently trembling
] Yeah, but I shoot with this one.
: Qualifications? Gum Chewer
: [chewing gum
] Murder... armed robbery... mayhem... Hedley Lamarr
: Wait a moment. What have you got in your mouth? Gum Chewer
: [stops chewing
] Nuff'm. Hedley Lamarr
: "Nuff'm", eh? Lyle! Lyle
: [searches the man's mouth
] Gum! Hedley Lamarr
: Chewing gum on line, eh? I hope you brought enough for everybody. Gum Chewer
] I didn't know there was going to be so many!
[Hedley shoots the gum chewer
: [hidden behind a rock
] Boy, is he strict!
: [watching Mongo's rampage
] I don't know what it is.
[Van Johnson bursts into the office
] Van Johnson
: Sheriff! Mongo's back! He's...
[realizes Bart is on the opposite side of the room, and turns around
] Van Johnson
: Sheriff! Mongo's back! He's breaking up the whole town! You've got to help us, please! Bart
: Did you hear that? Now it's "please". This morning, I couldn't get the time of day. Who is this Mongo, anyway? Jim
: Well, Mongo ain't exactly a "who". He's more of a "what". Van Johnson
: What he said. Bart
: Well, now, I don't know... Van Johnson
: Oh, thank you, Sheriff! Oh, thank you very much! Thank you!
[runs to the door and flings it open
] Van Johnson
] The fool's going to... I mean, the sheriff's going to do it!
: Hey, maybe you should eat somethin' first. Jim
: No thanks, food makes me sick.