♪ In the great Book of John
♪ You were warned of the day
♪ When you'll be laid
♪ Beneath the cold clay
♪ The angel of death
♪ Will come from the sky
♪ And claim your poor soul
♪ When the time comes to die
♪ When the angel of death... ♪
Was it Dillinger got shot through the eyeball or am I thinking of somebody else?
Moe Greene got shot through the eyeball in The Godfather.
Yeah, I'm talking about in real life.
Somebody in real life got shot through the eyeball.
Who was that?
Well, no, Larry, many people in real life have got shot through the eyeball.
I'm just saying I think Dillinger was one of them.
That's really good aim.
- No, that ain't really good aim. - How is that not really good aim, Tommy?
That's 100 fucking cops shooting 1,000 bullets a minute.
One of them's bound to go through somebody's fucking eyeball.
Eyeball. Eyeball, eyeball, eyeball.
You ever shoot a guy in his eyeball?
I stabbed a guy in his ear once, ice pick, right in his fucking ear.
Yeah, see, that'd be a different subject. That'd be "ears."
- What's the matter with you, Tommy? - Nothing's the matter with me.
Are you nervous because we're killing a chick?
Yeah, look at me, I'm shaking. I got the chick-killing shakes.
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The last thing the boss says to me, he says,
"Tommy, the moment I first saw Angela's eyes, I knew it."
“I knew it was love, I knew I was fucked. And lo and behold, I was.
"So, Tommy, the moment after you kill her,
"please, shoot her fucking eyeballs out." Those were his exact words.
I got one exact word for that.
"Overkill."
I got two exact words for that, "Hear, hear."
I got three exact words for that. "You're damn fucking straight."
In Cuba, the torturers used to have a device, two thin metal spikes,
placed here, that they adjusted,
and slowly, millimeter by millimeter, pricked into the eyeballs.
You're kidding me? Those Communist motherfuckers.
Well, no, Larry. These are the ones those Communist motherfuckers kicked out.
What is it with you today, Tommy?
First it's should we or shouldn't we shoot this chick through the eyeballs,
and second, it's you've gone soft...
♪ I would have given you all of my heart
♪ But there's someone who's torn it apart...
Hey, Martin, it's your agent calling again.
Just wondering when we're gonna see that new screenplay of yours.
I'm not sure what the holdup is, but the old clock's ticking, buddy,
so give me a call, okay?
♪ The first cut is the deepest
♪ Baby, I know... ♪
Hiya, Kaya.
Martin's writing today, Billy.
Should I just stand outside like a dick, then?
You doing yoga?
- Was. - Can I watch?
What happened to you?
I got in a fight at my audition.
Who with this time?
- The director guy. - He broke his nose.
How are you ever gonna get a job, Billy,
if you break the director guy's nose before you even got the part?
I didn't mean to break his nose.
His nose was just in the middle of where I was punching.
- I'm going to work. - Are you pissed at me for something, baby?
Why would I be pissed at you, Marty?
- Because you're a cunt. - Billy!
I don't remember doing anything to piss her off.
Don't worry about it.
She's probably pissed at you not for anything specific,
more because she's a fucking bitch.
She's not a fucking bitch, Billy. She's just got issues.
Yeah, she's got issues. She's got "being a fucking bitch" issues.
When are you gonna get a girlfriend anyway? Why do I have to do all this shit on my own?
Maybe I've already got a girlfriend.
A girlfriend I can't tell you anything about in the interests of your own safety.
That just means you haven't got a girlfriend.
Proof be if need proof... Never mind.
Proof be if need be.
And how's everything in the dog-kidnapping business?
Dog "borrowing" business. I ain't talking about that shit neither.
Dog-borrowing business.
♪ Well the wicked King of Clubs awoke
♪ And it was to his queen he turned
♪ His lips were laughing as they spoke
♪ His eyes like bullets burned
♪ The sun's upon a gambling day
♪ His queen smiled low and blissfully
♪ Let's make some wretched fool to pay
♪ Plain it was she did agree
♪ He send his deuce down into diamond
♪ His four to heart, and his trey to spade
♪ Three kings with their legions come
♪ Preparations soon were made
♪ They voted club the day's commander
♪ Gave him an army face and number
♪ All but the outlaw... ♪
Big boy.
His name's Abel.
- Hi. Is this your dog? - Oh, my God!
- I have to pay you. - No, please. I can't.
- Take this. Thank you so much. - Are you serious?
Hey, hey. So where do you wanna go, Hans, now that we're back in the money?
- The cancer ward, Billy, if you don't mind. - One cancer ward coming right up.
Five hundred bucks, baby. A blonde lady with a big fat basset hound.
When you gonna get a job that ain't just stealing from folks, Hans?
I'm a 63-year-old, ain't worked in 20 years. Myra, where am I gonna get a job?
Government.
Government?
"A job that ain't just stealing from folks"?
Government?
Government.
Five hundred bucks for a dog.
Come on. I'm gonna put it here, and you can take it if you want.
So how's the Seven Psychopaths coming along, Marty?
Slow, slow.
I got the title.
Just haven't been able to come up with all the psychopaths yet.
- How many you got? - One.
And he ain't really much of a psychopath. He's more of a, kind of a Buddhist.
A Buddhist?
Yeah. See, I'm sick of all these stereotypical
Hollywood murderous scumbag-type psychopath movies.
I don't want it to be one more film about guys with guns in their hands.
I want it, overall, to be about love and peace.
But it still has to be about these seven psychopaths,
so this Buddhist psychopath,
he doesn't believe in violence.
I don't know what the fuck he's gonna do in the movie.
Maybe he could karate chop somebody.
You know?
So what happens to the seven psychopaths at the end?
I don't know what happens to them at the start.
Yeah, it'll be all right.
Hey. Shit in my pants,
I got a psychopath fool you can write about.
Did you see this thing in the paper the other day
about those two Mafia guys who got whacked?
How about this?
There's a serial killer going around, a major whacko.
However, he ain't like your usual limp-ass serial killer,
tie up a freckle-headed hitchhiker on a highway.
No, this guy, he's got a little bit more integrity.
This serial killer will only kill mid-to high-ranking members
of the Italian-American organized crime syndicate.
Or the Yakuza.
- That's a great fucking psychopath, Billy. - Do you think?
A serial killer who will only kill
mid-to high-ranking members of the Italian organized crime syndicate.
Or the Yakuza. Yakuza.
I'll keep with the Mafia, saves doing Jap dialog.
Good idea.
That's a great fucking psychopath, Billy. Can I keep him?
You can if you let me help write the movie with you.
You can keep him, Marty, I'm just kidding you.
The daughter of a Quaker went missing.
And when she was discovered, the slit in her throat
turned out to be the least of the damage done to her.
Her killer, whose name shall not be noted,
could not bear the guilt and the horror, he said,
and a year to the day of her death,
he walked into a police station and gave himself up.
And though he asked for execution, the judge gave him life,
and the killer was sent off to Sing Sing to serve out his sentence.
Seventeen long years went by.
The killer found religion.
And was sincere about it. He had changed.
And if he had ever been a psychopath, he was not one anymore.
This story isn't about him.
Many more years went by
and the authorities finally realized that it wasn't a scam,
that he did truly mean it. That he had truly repented.
And they decided to set him free.
And he found himself a place to stay
and he determined to live a simple, joyous life in the years now left to him.
A simple, joyous life was not what was left to him.
This went on for 11 fucking years, till finally the killer went mad.
And one winter night, while recalling a Catholic tract he'd read,
which stated that the only people guaranteed a place in Hell
were not murderers, were not rapists,
but were those who had died by their own hand.
The killer accepted such an idea as beautiful,
for he knew that at least in Hell the Quaker would not be there.
So he cut his own throat open,
and the last thing that the killer ever saw
was the old man take out a cut-throat razor of his own,
put it to his throat,
and slice.
Where were you walking him, Sharice?
The La Brea Tar Pits.
Mr. Costello, please don't hurt me.
I promise, I didn't mean to lose Bonny.
I just turned around and he was gone.
If it was a genuine error, Sharice,
if it wasn't your fault and he just run off,
why did you run off,
have us piss away 12 hours just to find your fat ass?
You love your dog so much, Mr. Costello,
and you're such an angry-type person,
I didn't think you'd listen to anything I had to say about losing Bonny.
You'd just think it was my fault
and drag me back here and tie me up and kill me.
Well, yeah, that was a pretty good...
Yeah.
- You should get a new one, boss. - I know, but I like the handle, the blue.
I'm sorry about this, Sharice. What it is, I don't oil it.
Please, Mr. Costello, I always loved Bonny like he was my own child.
One, I do not want that image in my head.
Two, you shouldn't take advantage just because my gun got stuck by accident.
Because that's low.
There's been a bunch of dog disappearances down by the La Brea Tar Pits, I heard.
This Norwegian chick I was banging, she got her dog back.
Been missing a couple of days.
Gave the guy a big reward,
then she started to think there was something fishy about it.
She asked around.
Same thing happened to three people down there.
And, I'm sorry, Dennis, when were you gonna mention this?
I'd have mentioned it straight off if I hadn't been looking for fat-ass all night.
Dennis,
could you go make some inquiries?
Get my fucking dog back for me.
Sure, boss.
What about fatso?
She still lost my fucking dog, man.
Just kidding, Sharice. You can go.
You think I'm gonna see Wendy again when I go?
We'll both see her again, baby, but not anytime too soon.
You ever worry we was wrong all those years,
and there ain't no Heaven and there ain't no nothing?
Of course I worry, but God loves us. I know He does.
He's just got a funny way of showing it sometimes.
Sometimes I think God's gone crazy sometimes.
Stuff He does, stuff He don't do.
Well, He's had a lot to contend with in his time, too, you know.
Bastards killed His kid, too.
Don't say "bastards," honey.
It's just a word, Myra.
It's just a word, you know.
"Bastards."
♪ Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah
♪ Although I love you so
♪ Oh, you don't know
♪ You don't know Just how I... ♪
You're gonna have a nice time tonight, Billy. Relax.
He's your best friend, ain't he?
Kaya ain't so bad. It ain't her fault she's a fucking bitch.
Must be hard coming all the way here from Australia.
Or New Zealand. Or wherever the fuck she came from.
Hey, I'm Billy. Billy Bickle.
What's your name? I didn't catch your name.
Hey. Come again?
Dimitri, I like that. Where you from?
Hey, happy birthday.
Hey, Bonny.
We'll get you back to your daddy in a day or two.
Don't be sad.
That's good. You're not sad. Oh, you're happy!
Paw.
No paw. That's okay, too.
And the last thing that the killer ever saw
was the Quaker take out a cut-throat razor,
put it to his own throat, and slice.
What's up, Bickle? Don't you get it?
- I get it. - You don't look like you get it.
Maybe it ain't clear enough.
Maybe I should have had you write it with me.
Maybe you just drink too much, Marty.
What did you just say?
You're a dog kidnapper, Billy.
I'm taking advice on drinking from a dog kidnapper.
I ain't a dog kidnapper, Marty.
Stop it, Martin.
- Don't you fucking start. - Yeah, don't you fucking start.
- Don't talk to her like that! - You started it.
Shut up!
Kaya, that Quaker story,
I told Marty that story in a bar two months ago.
A friend of mine told that to me.
So there might be copyright issues, at the very least.
What are youse looking at?
I'm gonna go, okay?
Thanks for... It was a nice party. You look nice.
What you doing, honey? Ain't you getting undressed?
If I could massacre every person in this godforsaken country...
that helped tear apart mine, I would.
I must focus, however, on the gruesome task I have in hand.
What are you talking, baby? Chinese?
Vietnamese. Vietnamese.
Vietnamese. Yeah, didn't we have like a big war with you guys one time?
Yes.
It isn't over.
♪ You and I travel to the beat of a different drum
♪ Oh, can't you tell by the way I run
♪ Every time you make eyes at me
♪ You cry... ♪
What am I doing at your place, Billy?
Kaya threw you out.
What did Kaya throw me out for?
You don't remember?
For calling her a fucking bitch in front of all of her friends.
I'd never do that.
At least not to her face.
Well, call her up and see.
Hello?
Honey, listen, I can't exactly remember what happened last night.
Do the words, "My girlfriend's a fucking bitch,"
mean anything to you?
Poodles always look like they've been crying.
Maybe they've just got dumped by their girlfriend
because they've got a drinking problem, too.
I don't have a drinking problem. I just like drinking.
Of course you do, Marty.
One, you're a writer.
Two, you're from Ireland.
It's part of your heritage. You're fucked!
Fuck off now, Billy! Seriously, just fuck off now!
I'm not in the fucking mood!
You were fucked from birth.
Spanish have got bullfighting. The French got cheese.
And the Irish have got alcoholism.
And what have the Americans got?
Tolerance.
Shoot, you're reading LA Weekly, are you?
No, no, no.
Shoot, did I leave any water in Bonny's bowl?
I'd better go home and do that, and while I do,
there's something I put in the LA Weekly that you should maybe read.
'Cause it's possible in the short term that you might be slightly mad at me.
- What are you talking about? - Page 163.
Calling all psychopaths!
Are you mental or deranged?
Maybe you've recently been hospitalized,
but are now okay.
Or maybe the world just doesn't understand you.
Yeah, right!
Well, I'm writing a screenplay with my friend called the Seven Psychopaths,
and if your story is crazy or quirky enough, we might use it for our movie.
So please call Billy Bickle at 310-555-01...
Fucking asshole dog-fucker.
Really? That's nice.
- No, no, thank you. - Are you sure?
- Please, really. - Thank you.
All right, old man, get in the car. Get in the car. Come on.
- What? - "What?" Get in the car, man.
Don't make me repeat myself, dog fucker.
Where do you keep the dogs?
What dogs?
- To repeat, where do you keep the dogs? - 1228 Bayside.
Who are you?
- I'm Billy's friend. - Well, just keep out of our way, Billy's friend.
Al, check the cages.
- He ain't here! - Where is he, old man?
Little shih tzu, name of Bonny.
Shih tzu? We ain't never had a shih tzu in here.
You don't listen too good the first time, do you, old man?
Tell me where Bonny is, or else this guy gets it!
I don't even know this guy. What the hell do I care?
I know where the shih tzu is. I know where the shih tzu is.
Where is he?
Kid, I don't know who you are or why you're here,
and I don't know if you do know where this shih tzu is
or if you don't know where this shih tzu is,
but either way have some pride in yourself.
Have some faith in Jesus Christ as your Lord,
and don't tell these scum-sucking motherfuckers nothing.
Don't! Don't, I'll tell you! I'll tell you!
Billy! Billy! Billy.
- Holy fuck! What the hell happened? - Some punks jumped us.
Said they were looking for a little shih tzu. Then some other punk killed those punks.
I've only been gone 10 fucking minutes. Marty, are you okay?
- You looked fucked. - I just didn't need this today.
He's okay. It's their blood. It's his puke.
You wanna go to the bathroom,
clean some of the blood and the puke off you?
Marty's my writer friend I was telling you about.
I could smell the booze.
Where did you get this little shih tzu, Billy?
I got her off some fat black chick down at The Elephants.
You think she's the one that they're after?
I think there's a strong possibility, Billy.
So are we gonna give him his dog back?
That jerk's forfeited all right to having a nice dog like this.
Miss?
Well, what are we gonna do?
I think we should try and find this Jack O' Diamonds guy
and get him to join forces with us.
And then we could take on all the bad guys, like maybe in the desert.
And what do you think we should do in real life?
Well, we could sober up, Marty. How's that grab you?
- I think we should go to the cops. - Fuck the cops! Fuck them!
- Fuck them. - All right. Jesus Christ.
There are some nice cops, aren't there?
He's from Ireland.
I'm gonna head to the hospital.
I said I'd be with Myra when her results come in.
No fucking cops.
No cops.
- Who's Myra? - His wife.
She's just had surgery for cancer. And you think you've got problems.
He ain't here, and now we don't know
where this guy is or what the hell he looks like.
Yeah, can we get Dennis to a hospital now, Charlie?
Yeah, let's get him to a hospital.
And let's get on to the ASPCA
and have 'em take care of these poor bastards.
Maybe we should go to the hospital with him, Charlie.
You know I don't like hospitals.
Yeah, but it's where the guy's wife is.
You know, Marty, the way you're feeling today,
all depressed and alcoholic and shit?
You know what you should do? Put it into your writing, man.
Use it. Mad idea?
Thanks, Billy, that's what I'll do.
I'll put the way I'm feeling today into my writing.
And then I'll go blow my fucking brains out.
Come on, man.
You know your writing helps alleviate your suicidal self-loathing and shit.
I don't have suicidal self-loathing and shit.
Yeah, right. Hey, who's this chump?
Hey, are you waiting for somebody, old guy?
Are you Billy Bickle?
No.
Well, my name is Zachariah Rigby.
I left a message on Billy's telephone in answer to the advertisement.
For fuck's sake!
Well, I tell you, Zachariah.
If you sounded like a nut, I probably just deleted you.
I don't think I sounded like a nut.
Were you screaming about eating my heart off a tray and then shitting on it?
No. No, I wouldn't do that.
Okay, you seem normal. Come on in.
We gotta get this dog off the street because it's kidnapped from a maniac.
Dandy.
Testing, one-two. Testing. Okay.
Zach, unfortunately I gotta go play tennis with my girlfriend now,
but it's Marty who'll be doing the writing anyway.
You ain't leaving me with this nut, Billy.
And you ain't got a girlfriend. He ain't got a girlfriend.
Tennis?
But it's voice-activated, so just start telling your kooky stuff, Zach,
and see you guys soon, okay?
- Zach? - Yeah.
All right, listen. Why don't you just tell me whatever you wanna tell me,
and I'll go make us a coffee. How about that?
Tea.
Tea? Why not?
Well, I guess
it all began back when I was 17.
I...
The distant mists of time.
I was a little wet behind the ears back then. I don't mind admitting it.
I was burglarizing the house of this judge down in Delacroix.
Let me tell you something, don't never burglarize
the house of no judge down in Delacroix.
Because when I went down into his basement,
you know what I found down there?
I found the corpses of two negro girls down there.
And then I found a half-alive 'nother negro girl
chained right along with them.
Well,
the girl's name was Maggie.
She told me all about the judge
and she told me what a terrible man he was,
and I think I fell in love with Maggie right then and there.
And I think she did a little with me, too.
Then the judge came home.
Yeah, and he was awful angry.
We just didn't know what to do.
And what did you do?
Well, we hung him from his neck until he was dead,
and that's when Maggie and me got this idea, see?
What idea?
Well, the idea that we'd go around the country killing people
who go around the country killing people.
Like serial killer killing.
I guess that's what you'd call it nowadays.
Get in the house.
Get in the house!
Maggie!
1975 it was, she burned that hippie.
I've been looking for her ever since.
There is something I'd like you to do for me, Martin.
When you use my story in your movie,
I'd like you to put a little message up there at the end.
I want you to tell her that I miss her.
And I love her.
And I should have helped her kill that hippie.
And I'm sorry.
And to call.
You think you could do that for me, Martin?
I'd be glad to, Zach.
Promise?
I promise on my life.
That's a big promise.
- Can I help you? - Yeah.
I'm looking for a Polish lady.
A Mrs. Kieslowski.
She's having an operation.
How long's that gonna take?
I don't know.
What do you want Mrs. Kieslowski for?
Her husband's got something belongs to me.
You gonna shoot her?
No. No, "shoot her"?
No, no, I'm just gonna scare her so she tells me
where her husband's at and where my dog's at.
And what if she don't know?
Well, then I'm gonna get mad.
Can I go use the bathroom?
I think you'd better wait around here for a while.
Maybe do it in a pan or something.
I can wait.
I don't use no pans.
Suit yourself.
What's your dog's name?
Bonny.
That's a nice name.
I'm sure Mr. Kieslowski will take good care of your dog
and get it back to you safe.
He always seems like a sweet man when he comes in.
He come visit her a lot?
Every day.
What kind of times every day?
Different times, you know.
And not every day. He misses a day now and then.
Oh, yeah?
He been in today?
Yeah.
He came in earlier this morning, about 10:00 or so.
So the Polack married a nigger?
Yeah.
The Polack married a nigger.
Where is he now?
I don't know.
Where's my dog?
You figure it out, dumb-ass.
Goodbye, Mrs. Kieslowski.
Goodbye, Hans.
- We should get out of here. - I ain't leaving.
I'm gonna wait down there till that dog-thief motherfucker
You looking at something?
No. Nothing at all.
Are you hurt?
A little.
What's that?
A cravat.
It's nice. It's very...
Of a bygone era.
You have it.
No, really.
Please.
I want you to have it.
Have it.
I don't want your cravat, man.
- What's wrong, honey? - I don't think I can keep it up, Ang.
Nope.
Look at that limp piece of shit.
- Jeez, I hate these frigging condoms. - Then take it off, baby, I trust you.
You trust me? But you're still screwing that Mafia guy.
God knows what shit that prick's given you.
Get the fuck off me, Billy.
I didn't mean AIDS or nothing, honey.
Honey, I meant like chlamydia or something.
Three weeks I haven't seen you, and that's the way you talk to me?
I've been busy, baby.
I've been busy trying to help you out, if you must know.
What are you talking about?
Well, you know you said your asshole boyfriend loves his dog
more than anything in the world, right?
- You haven't? - I have!
Billy! Billy, you've gotta give it back.
Give it back? I ain't gonna give back shit, let alone my shih tzu.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God!
- "Give it back." It's kidnapped. - Oh, my God!
It's a kidnapped dog. You don't just give back a kidnapped dog.
Defeats the entire object of the kidnapping.
They didn't just give Patty Hearst back, did they?
No, this dog is my Patty Hearst.
Except I ain't gonna keep it in a closet and make it rob a bank.
No, I'm gonna hold on to it until your asshole boyfriend
starts behaving like a decent human being and gives me a bunch of money.
The guy's a psychopath, Billy!
Well, did you ever ask yourself
what you're doing screwing a psychopath in the first place?
Screwing two psychopaths is what the question is.
What? Who's the second? Who, me?
I'm gonna call him, clear this entire thing up.
No, you ain't either. Shit.
- Hello? - Charlie?
- Hi, Hans. Angela? - Charlie...
- How are you? - We were a little worried,
you were late home is all.
Yeah, I know. I just got held up at the library.
Hey, did Myra get her results back?
The results came in. She got the all-clear.
Oh, my God, Hans,
I'm so happy for you.
Well, no, that gangster guy whose dog we got,
he come down and he killed her.
He what?
I guess he must have found out the connection somehow.
He came down, he shot her in the head in the hospital there,
so she's dead now, unfortunately.
I'll be home in 20 minutes.
Charlie, I know, I know we've been going through some tough times,
but it's all gonna work out fine, I promise you.
♪ Angela holds a grudge...
Hi. Can you send an ambulance to 2618 Mountain Drive?
♪ Angela...
Gunshot wound to the stomach.
♪ Today's a day like any other
So don't say I never do nothing for you. Okay?
♪ Still the flag snaps in the wind
♪ Still your name rings true
♪ You took the high road
♪ I couldn't find you
♪ Up there
♪ You kept your jaw wired closed
♪ I never noticed... ♪
Monday the 14th.
Sat watching the shadow of the neighbor's flagpole across my lawn again
from 7:00 in the morning to 7:00 in the evening.
That's 11 hours.
They've got a right to fly a flag, don't they?
Note to self, do not set fire to the neighbor's flag.
Work out more ways of being a better friend to people.
Kaya, for instance. She is the girl Marty loves.
Deep down, she is possibly not a cunt.
Marty. Do everything to keep his mind on track about the Seven Psychopaths.
He is the best writer of his generation, but he needs to stay focused.
But do not bother him anymore about writing his screenplay with him.
If he wants your help, he will ask for it.
Hey, hey. Let's go, let's go, let's go.
Hans!
First thing you gotta do, Charlie, you gotta pull yourself together.
I gotta pull myself together, I know.
I have no idea where my dog is now.
Right, second thing, we simply speak to Angela,
see what else she knows about this guy, where he might have got to.
What if she don't know much more?
All right, then we bide our time,
wait until they get in touch with us.
Bonny ain't gonna be no value to them dead.
Don't say "Bonny" and "dead" in the same thing, Paulo, please.
I'm finding it hard enough to cope.
You're not pulling yourself together, are you?
I am, I am.
My dog's gonna end up killed.
There's something else, Charlie.
The guy's got about a hundred packs of playing cards,
and all the Jacks of Diamonds are gone.
The guy's a fucking psychopath.
He's so calm.
Man, if I'd just had my wife murdered, I think I'd be...
- Angry. - Yeah.
That's Hans, man. He's a proper Christian.
You know, proper old-time Christian. Not like these Fox News fucks.
I feel bad, man. I kind of feel like all this was my fault.
I kidnapped the guy's dog and all.
Come on, Billy. How could you have known it was that psycho's dog?
Do you wanna help me write Seven Psychopaths, Billy?
Are you being serious?
I thought I could bounce some ideas off you, you could tinker with some stuff.
I would love that, Marty.
I would really love that.
I think I'm gonna quit drinking till the movie's done.
That, right there, is a deal, man.
It's not a deal, no.
I'm just gonna stop drinking for a while. There's no deal involved.
That, right there, is
not a deal. Equally cool.
But if we go there, we're gonna get lost.
You don't drink, Hans, no?
I take peyote, sometimes.
Billy has some peyote I might take later.
I'm sorry about your wife, Hans.
But I guess she's in Heaven now.
You believe in Heaven?
I'm not sure what I believe, you know.
I put a lot of Heaven and Hell stuff in my stories, but I'm not sure what I believe.
Why don't you tell me one of your Heaven and Hell stories, Martin?
Billy said he didn't think you'd like it much.
I like stories.
Okay.
This one is kind of a Heaven and Hell story.
It's more of a Hell story. It's all about this Quaker psychopath.
Out in the fields, one day, he comes upon his daughter.
She's been murdered brutally.
The only ones guaranteed to go to Hell are those who die by their own hand.
- Stop! - So he took out a...
- Stop! Stop, stop, stop. - ...cut-throat...
- What? - Yeah, what?
I just... I don't think that's a very nice story.
I wanna know what happens at the end.
Well...
So...
The killer took out a cut-throat razor and as he
cut his throat open, he whispered, "Now are you happy, old man?"
- And the last thing that... - The killer ever saw...
That the killer ever saw, yes, was the old man take out a razor of his own,
put it to his throat and...
And slice.
That's a very good story.
Did you make that up all by yourself?
Some of the details aren't exactly right, of course.
I wouldn't necessarily call myself a psychopath, you know,
and I didn't go to Hell, obviously.
I don't know if he did. Yet.
Our beautiful daughter was black. I don't think you mentioned that.
And I was not on my own the whole time, following him.
You know, you can't do that kind of work all on your own.
But looking back on what's been wasted...
At the time, I thought it had to be done.
I'm not so sure anymore.
Course it had to be done. He killed your kid.
You had to fuck him over by any means necessary.
Well, as Gandhi said...
Oh, you two. If it ain't Gandhi, it's Jesus Christ.
"An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind."
I believe that wholeheartedly.
No, it doesn't. There'll be one guy left with one eye.
How's the last blind guy gonna take out the eye
of the last guy left who's still got one eye?
All that guy has to do is run away and hide behind a bush.
Gandhi was wrong.
It's just that nobody's got the balls to come right out and say it.
Hans, I'm trying to write something about the kinds of things you're talking about.
Yeah. Would you like to help write it with me?
- You said I could help write it with you. - Yeah, we can all help write it with me.
He doesn't even wanna help write it with you. His wife just died.
I don't mind helping, as long as it isn't gonna be too violent.
- Of course it's gonna be too violent. - That's the whole point.
I told you 20 times, Billy, I don't want it to be violent.
- I want it to be life-affirming. - Life-affirming? Schmife-affirming!
- It's about seven fucking psychopaths! - Hey!
No, you know what I think the movie should be?
The first half should be a perfect setup for an out-and-out revenge flick.
- Yeah. - Violence. Guns.
All the usual bullshit. And then...
I don't know, man, it's...
The lead characters should just walk away.
They should just drive off into the desert and pitch a tent somewhere
and just talk for the rest of
the frigging movie. No shoot-outs, no payoffs.
Just human beings talking.
What, are we making French movies now?
That sounds like the stupidest ending. No shoot-outs?
That sounds like the stupidest ending to a movie I've ever fucking...
No shoot-outs?
- No? - No!
Now if we were gonna have a shoot-out, that'd be the perfect place.
I know we're not gonna have a shoot-out.
I'm just saying if we were gonna have a shoot-out.
Jesus. Gandhi. Joseph.
♪ And you cried all night
♪ Till you created a stream and it flows forever
♪ It's made of dreams
♪ That didn't come true
♪ And I'm sorry, there's nothing more
♪ That I can do
♪ When we get... ♪
Hey, ho.
Martin, I've been reading your movie.
- What do you think? - Your women characters are awful.
None of them have anything to say for themselves.
And most of them get either shot or stabbed to death within five minutes.
And the ones that don't probably will later on.
Well...
It's a hard world for women. You know?
- And I guess that's what I'm trying to say. - Yeah, it's a hard world for women,
but most of the ones I know can string a sentence together.
Didn't you like anything in it?
- You know who I'm intrigued by? - Who's that?
This Vietnamese guy with the hooker. Is it like a dream sequence?
No. The Vietnamese guy...
I just know his story ain't gonna end in nothing
but carnage and horror and...
So I didn't even wanna write it.
He's not even a priest.
I just like the image of a Vietnamese guy in a priest's outfit with a snub-nosed .44.
Anyway, his story is...
He was in the Vietcong for many years.
A brilliant warrior but a sicko. A psycho.
And when the war was ended, he returned to his little farming village
with all intentions of living a peaceful life with his wife and daughters.
But the little farming village he came from was called
My Lai.
And his wife wasn't there anymore. And his daughters weren't there anymore.
And he ventured to the USA to track down
all the members of Charlie Company
who raped and butchered his whole entire family.
You see where I'm going with this, right?
Well, he'd already slaughtered six of them by the time he got to Phoenix,
where some kind of convention was about to be held
on the rights and wrongs of the Vietnam War.
And he's got a big bomb with him that he's gonna strap to a hooker
and send her into the middle of this convention.
So this is the night that we meet him, and the hooker's there in her panties.
And, like I said, there's no way that story's ending but grimly.
That's a great fucking psychopath, Marty.
Yeah. But it's not what I wanna really be writing about anymore.
New idea. How about we change the title from the Seven Psychopaths
to the Seven Lesbians Who Are All Disabled And Have Overcome All This Spazzy Shit
And Are Really Nice To Everybody And Two Of 'Em Are Black?
How about that?
♪ I come from a long line in history
♪ Of dreamers
♪ Each one more tired
♪ Than the one before...
I'm out here in the wilderness
trying to think about some ideas.
Anyway, the way I picture your screenplay,
especially with this Vietnamese guy who, of course, I'm fascinated by.
♪ ...country dumb ♪
Pressure. Pressure.
I'm a little nervous.
Okay, everybody comfortable?
Cell phones off, right?
Okay, here we go.
Exterior.
Cemetery. Night.
The shoot-out. Yeah!
The Jack O' Diamonds is waiting there with Bonny,
and he's arranged to give him back and have this whole thing end
because all he really wants is peace. You know,
like Gandhi or Jesus or that other guy.
Anyway, he's waiting there for the Mafia boss,
who's agreed to show up alone and unarmed. But, yeah, guess what?
Wait, wait a minute.
Surely he knows that the Mafia boss is a psycho?
Why would he believe he'd show up alone and unarmed?
- You know? - Yeah.
Exactly!
Maybe the Jack O' Diamonds was expecting to get double-crossed
because he just happens to have brought a couple of friends along.
Suddenly, from out of every fucking grave
burst the seven psychopaths, a gun in every hand.
Flamethrower! Who the fuck is that?
It's the Vietcong guy. He was hiding up a tree.
You! You're there, but you're just there to observe, and that's all right.
Nobody thinks you're a pussy. But it's started raining now.
Lightning.
And no, look who's wandered in like a fucking idiot.
It's Kaya. She's come to say sorry to you, and she loves you,
and that she didn't mean to be such a fucking bitch.
You scream out, "Kaya! Stay back!"
Too late, she's fucking mown down.
Fucking mown down!
Her head almost comes off.
Her head does come off. You scream out her name, all sad, and she dies.
"Kaya! Kaya!"
You throw your notepad away. Art and peace and all that shit can wait!
Now's the time for men to be men!
"Fuck you, you cunts!"
It's really emotional.
And then... Hold on.
Yeah...
The black chick from the serial killer killers. She fought good, but she's the next to croak.
Zachariah dies, too. He buys it.
Dies in her arms. And they die and they're old and mental, and so much in love.
You know, it's really sad.
But his rabbit gets away, though,
because you can't let the animals die in a movie. Just the women.
Anyway, guns, guns, guns!
The Vietcong gets hit. Then he dies,
and he never even had a fucking name, and he's so good.
With his dying move, he throws his nunchakus
and he kills two of the bastards.
Nunchakus are Japanese.
So the only ones left are you
and Hans.
Peace is for queers. And now you're gonna die.
But the Jack O' Diamonds isn't dead at all.
He was just a bit injured and he had a fucking crossbow up his sleeve.
That's not enough, so he pulls out a shotgun.
Goodbye.
And as the Jack O' Diamonds dies in their arms, he whispers,
"We did good, we did good, didn't we, Marty?"
And through your tears, you say, "Bejesus, Jack,"
"we did more than good. We did grand."
Jack says, "All I ever wanted was to be your friend. Marty, I'm your friend now, ain't I?"
And you say, "Bejesus, sure, you're me best friend, Jack."
"You're me best friend."
And then the Jack O' Diamonds dies.
And as his soul leaves his body to go dance with the angels,
we pan up over the blood-strewn cemetery and off into the pretty blue skies of dawn.
Skies blue enough to suggest that maybe there can be peace
one day in this troubled but beautiful world.
Maybe there can be peace because that would be good!
That's the end?
Yeah!
So, opinions?
Well...
It's very...
- I like it. - You like it? Hey!
All right.
- It's got layers, you know. - Layers?
Like a pie. Like a cake.
It's got... It's got many layers.
This is an important demographic.
So, what do you think?
I think it's very, it's very, you know...
- Moving. - Very... Moving. Moving.
I was paying attention, I'll tell you that.
You were... Moving.
It's impossible
for someone's head to actually explode, isn't it? When it gets shot.
No, no, it's possible.
If the person's head was made out of explosives, it's possible.
Yeah. I like that.
Hans.
Billy's a psychopath, Hans.
I guess he's made it into your movie, then?
Hi, Hans. Hi, Mart.
Marty, is that what I think it is?
If you think it's a bottle of bourbon, then yeah.
Do you want some?
- Hans. - Are you not gonna say something?
Where's the peyote, Billy?
Oh, are we gonna have a peyote party?
Why not?
I think
I'd have made a great Pope.
- I'd have been very lenient. - You'd have made an awesome Pope, Hans.
Hans,
isn't one of us gonna address the elephant in the room?
The what?
Yeah, who's on the fucking peyote around here, Marty?
Paw.
I'm sorry if I haven't been a very good friend to you, Billy.
Paw.
You've been a good friend to me, Marty. What are you talking about?
Why did you kill all those people?
Like I told you at Kaya's party, I killed all those people to spur you on a little bit
and give you something to write about and get you to finish your screenplay.
You told me...
When?
I can't believe you told me about this at the party, man!
Maybe I am an alcoholic if I could forget something like that.
Maybe I am an alcoholic.
Okay, listen. I didn't tell you about it at the party.
I was just kidding about that because you surprised me,
and it would have been ridiculous telling you at the party.
You might have told somebody, got me in trouble.
Then why did you just tell me that you told me?
To make you think a little bit about your alcohol issues. How about that?
Billy, you kill women!
I killed a woman. Take it easy.
- You shot her in the stomach, Billy. - That's better than the head, ain't it?
- Not really, no. - I said I was sorry, didn't I?
Yeah, well...
I don't hang out with people who kill women, Billy,
and I certainly don't write screenplays with them.
What are you talking about, Marty?
You'd best pack the tent up, Billy.
It's over.
It's over?
Now what...
Where's this other fucking nutcase?
Hans!
Hans.
Hans. We're leaving.
My wife is sitting on a chair someplace. Some gray place.
I thought she'd be in Heaven, but she's sitting on a chair
with a bullet in her head.
I thought they'd have cleaned that kind of stuff up.
Maybe you've just eaten too many hallucinogenic cactuses tonight, Hans.
Nothing to do with the hallucinogens.
But you've just seen Myra on a chair with a bullet through her head.
In some gray place.
England?
It seemed a lot worse than that.
Listen, Hans, what say we talk about this on the drive home?
I mean, we may find some perfectly reasonable...
Jesus.
Billy.
Billy?
In the tent, dumbo.
What?
Now don't get mad.
What the hell did you do?
I set the car on fire.
How the hell are we supposed to get home?
We're in the middle of the fucking desert, Billy.
Yeah, that's the least of our worries.
What else did you do?
I'll give you a clue.
Come on in.
So, yeah, I just called up old Charlie Costello
and I told him where we were and to come down and get his dog back
and said if he had any trouble finding us, just look for a Buick on fire.
But I did tell him to promise to come alone and unarmed, and he said he would.
And he'll be here in a couple of hours, depending on traffic.
Now, I've labeled these guns for you, but you totally don't have to use them.
I won't think you're pussies, but I'm gonna hang on to mine.
I think we've done enough of this "talking about peace in the desert" type stuff.
Don't you?
I do. This movie ends my way.
Well, that's just fucking great! Oh, great!
You know what that is? Do you know what that is?
- Great? - That's just fucking great!
How far is the walk to the Welcome Center?
We can't leave him.
You ain't gonna fight.
Of course I ain't gonna fight, but I ain't gonna run.
- What are you gonna do, then? - I guess I'm gonna die.
- Friends don't make their friends die, Hans. - Psychopathic friends do.
You're the one who thought psychopaths were so interesting.
They get kind of tiresome after a while, don't you think?
Is that a guinea pig? It's a gerbil, isn't it? That's enormous.
Hey, Marty, we just seen some kind of giant gerbil.
Marty, you alcoholic fucking bastard.
You might wanna stop drinking, Martin, if this is the way you're gonna behave.
If this is the way I'm gonna...
This guy just telephoned a psycho-killer to come down and psycho-kill us.
And this guy's doubting a lifelong belief in the afterlife
because of a psychedelic cactus he just ate.
And you motherfuckers are telling me to behave?
Time out. What's all this about doubting a lifelong belief in the afterlife
because of a psychedelic cactus you just ate?
- Hans, what the heck? - I met Myra.
On the ridge. She had some things to say.
About the afterlife being non-existent or something?
That was the gist.
No, no, it might have sounded like Myra.
But you know why?
Now don't get mad, but you know I can do Myra's voice pretty good.
Yeah, I snuck up there a little while ago and I pretended to be her.
I started saying all kinds of crazy stuff.
But what specifically did you say?
About the place
you were in. The place Myra was in.
How did you describe it, specifically?
- You mean specifically? - Yeah.
I just kind of said it was all kind of...
I just kind of said it was all kind of
gray and shit.
No.
Oh, great, now I have to kill everybody all on my own.
Sorry for hitting you in the face so hard.
That's all right. It was a pretty good punch for a pacifist.
I love you, man.
I love you, too.
Listen, if you're not gonna be really doing any shooting,
maybe you should just go with Hans, see he gets back all right.
I think I'll see how this plays out. Sure I'm drunk now anyway.
Seriously, Marty, you gotta do something about your drinking
because, I swear to God, it's gonna wind up killing you.
This is kind of like that window of time when you're waiting in the waiting room
of the VD clinic, isn't it?
For the door to open and the doctor to come out and say, "Billy, you're good to go."
Or, "Billy, you've got VD."
Or chlamydia or whatever.
He's all alone.
What the hell's he all alone for?
Turn around again.
And lift up your jacket.
- You shot him in the back. - Of course I shot him in the back.
I was going for his spine.
- But he was unarmed. - My ass, he was fucking unarmed.
Where's your guns?
- Where's your guns? - You said don't bring none,
so I didn't bring none.
Hey, Bonny baby.
You didn't bring a gun to the final shoot-out? Bullshit.
And don't talk to my dog!
He said don't bring none, so I didn't bring none.
- Who are you? - Just Billy's friend.
- Found it, motherfucker. - Your friend's a fucking nut.
My ass, you was fucking unarmed. I found it, motherfucker.
It's a flare gun, Billy.
You could do a lot of damage with a flare gun.
- Think I'm gonna die. - What?
- I think I'm gonna die. - Well, don't keep going on about it!
You fucking cunt.
Fucking ruined everything now.
Will you let me give him a couple of kisses and a couple of scratches?
No, I ain't gonna let you give him a couple of kisses and a couple of scratches!
Billy, we gotta get him to a hospital.
Are you out of your alcoholic fucking mind?
You don't take the chief fucking villain to a fucking hospital.
Put your hands up.
No.
- What? - I said no.
- Why not? - I don't want to.
- But I've got a gun. - I don't care.
But...
It doesn't make any sense.
Too bad.
Well...
- Where are your friends? - I don't know.
- Yes, you do know. - No, I don't know.
- You do know. - Shoot me, then.
Fucking dick-bags.
This is just un-fucking-believable, man.
- We can't just let him bleed to death. - We totally can.
We totally can let him bleed to death. That's totally what we can do.
I'm not leaving without my dog.
Listen up, you bald-headed fag. It's you or your fucking dog!
I gotta pick me, don't I? 'Cause if I'm dead, I ain't gonna have a dog anyway.
That's very good. That's very brainy.
And if I'm alive, I can always come back here and get my dog
and blow your goddamn head off, can't I?
That's exactly right. With your faggy little flare gun.
You cunt.
- Can I have my flare gun back? - No, you can't have your flare gun back.
What, is he drinking and driving?
I'll be back for you.
That was the worst final shoot-out I've ever fucking seen, man.
Why would he only bring a flare gun to the big final...
Oh, I get it.
Motherfucker.
You got a gun?
You don't got a gun, do you, Quaker?
You better keep out of the way now, all right, old man? I like you.
Hey.
Stop! Police!
It isn't gray
at all.
Shit!
- Should've brought that gun along, buddy. - Don't believe in them.
In guns? You don't believe in guns?
They ain't fucking leprechauns, you dumb Mick. What are you talking about?
I was trying to save your life, man.
It's a flesh wound, you fucking idiot.
Give me my gun.
Cops are coming, Charlie.
We had to whack that Quaker guy.
Don't you wish you had a gun now?
No.
I don't.
So why don't you go fuck yourself.
Where's the other guy, Charlie?
Down the road a-ways with my dog.
What are we gonna do?
We're gonna go get my dog.
What's with your sour fucking puss?
I could've just killed you now, couldn't I?
You've had your friend killed, and you're just about to have your other friend killed,
but that still only makes two friends killed.
I've had four of my guys killed, and also my girlfriend killed,
who I didn't like much, but that's still five friends killed.
That's three more friends killed than you've had friends killed,
so don't give me that moany fucking face, okay?
What? What do you see?
Oh, nothing. Just the perfect place for a final shoot-out.
Get away from the car! Get away from the car!
Throw your guns down, or the alcoholic gets it!
Don't throw down shit, Billy!
No, no. This is working out perfect.
Here's my guns, mister.
And the other one!
- I only had two. - Man, I saw you with three!
All right, all right, you're one smart cheese!
Now get down here with my fucking dog!
Are you gonna let Marty go if I do?
Yes, I'm gonna let Marty go if you do.
He didn't have anything to do with any of this.
He was just writing a movie.
- Are you? - Yeah.
- What's it called? - Seven Psychopaths.
I'm coming down.
I was just trying to buy
some time because I had to
reload something.
Forgot about the flare gun, you fucking idiot.
- Bonny. - Yeah, Bonny, I know.
And I like this dog.
Please. Bonny's not part of the gang. That's not fair.
You gonna cry?
Marty, get going.
They killed Hans, Billy.
Man.
I didn't kill him. He killed him.
Don't kill my dog.
Marty, get going. Write it up.
Come with me, Billy. Please.
I told you, didn't I, Marty?
- Told me what, Billy? - This movie ends my way.
Oh, fuck.
- What's the matter with your fucking gun? - Gets jammed sometimes.
At the fucking standoff?
- Paolo, shoot him. - At the fucking standoff?
Paolo, shoot him while he's not looking.
- I am looking. Clearly, I'm looking. - And I ain't shooting.
What do you mean, you ain't shooting? He's gonna shoot my dog.
Yeah, well, fuck your dog.
Fuck my dog?
Hey, mongoloid, fix your fucking gun,
or your little gay dog's little gay head's gonna fucking explode.
- He doesn't have a gay head. - Five.
- He has a normal head. - Four.
- Three. - Can you go back to five?
I ain't going back to five, man.
I ain't going back to five.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
Drop your gun! Let me see your hands!
Hands, move!
Come here, baby. Come to Daddy.
Paw.
He's my friend.
To Martin, I...
Well, I ain't any kind of a screenwriter as you know,
but I've been kind of trying to come up with some sort of solution
to your Vietcong psychopath conundrum and, goldarnit, I think I may have found one.
So, there's this
Vietnamese guy, and he's in this hotel room in Phoenix,
and he's sweating. He's sweating like hell. He's burning up.
He takes out from his pocket a .44. He checks it's loaded.
I don't know why he checks it's loaded. Surely he's the one who loaded it?
Anyway, a hooker comes out of the bathroom in a beautiful red dress.
She says, "Would you like to make love",
"or should we have an intelligent conversation instead?
“I've been reading a lot of Noam Chomsky lately, I think he's a marvel."
The Vietnamese guy, you know, he doesn't know what she's talking about.
He's Vietnamese. So, anyway,
you said you wanted some sex in it, so I guess they're having sex.
Desist, brother.
You know this will not help us.
He sniffs the air. He says the single word...
Gasoline.
The hooker, she studied Vietnamese at Yale.
I don't smell gas.
You will.
He drags her to the place
where the convention's being held.
She's got the dynamite tied to her. He's got the gasoline he's just bought.
She backs away, petrified.
He pours the gas out onto the floor. It reaches her feet.
A little of it has splashed over himself. It doesn't matter.
He takes out a match. In perfect Vietnamese, the hooker whispers...
Desist, brother.
You know this will not help us.
He shuts his eyes. Then he opens them again.
He ain't in Phoenix anymore.
He's sitting in the middle of a street in Saigon circa 1963
in the orange robes of his Buddhist order,
and he's drenched himself in gasoline.
As he finally manages to push
the thoughts of anger and hate out of his gentle mind,
a fellow monk pleads with him one final time.
Desist, brother.
You know this will not help us.
And all angry thoughts finally dispelled.
The first monk ever to burn himself to death to protest the war whispers,
"“It might."
It might.
"“It might." And he lights the match.
So, you know, your Vietcong psycho story
becomes the final thoughts of a man who chose not the darkness,
but the light.
The light being, you know,
suicide by self-immolation.
But I think that's the best we're gonna get. And, you know...
I know you said
dream sequences are for fags, but I think it could work, don't you?
We all gotta dream,
don't we?
Not just fags.
Oh, by the way, I don't think they like being called "fags" anymore.
I think nowadays they prefer "homos."
♪ You and I travel to the beat of a different drum
♪ Oh, can't you tell by the way I run
♪ Every time you make eyes at me
♪ You cry and moan and say it will work out
♪ But, honey child, I've got my doubts ♪
- Hello? - Is this Martin?
- Yeah, who's this? - It's Zachariah Rigby.
The guy you promised you'd put his number up at the end of your movie.
Well, I went to see your movie yesterday. Guess what?
- Shit. - Now how's she ever gonna fucking find me?
- I didn't think you were... - Serious?
You didn't think I was serious just because I carry a rabbit around?
Listen, I'll get them to change the credits. I'll get them to put your number up.
No, no, no.
You're miles too late, you know that, Martin.
And you promised on your life.
You know what that means, don't you?
I said, "You know what that means, don't you?"
I'm gonna be over to kill you on Tuesday.
That's good.
I'm not doing anything Tuesday.
You sound different.
You sound like you've been through a wringer.
A little.
Tuesday doesn't really work for me.
Can I get back to you?
Sure.
I'll be right here.
I know.
Come on, Carrie.
Let's go home, baby.
♪ I would have given you all of my heart
♪ But there's someone who's torn it apart
♪ And he's taking almost all that I've got
♪ But if you want I'll try to love again
♪ Baby, I'll try to love again But I know
♪ The first cut is the deepest Baby, I know
♪ The first cut is the deepest
♪ 'Cause when it comes to being lucky, he's cursed
♪ When it comes to lovin' me, he's worse
♪ But when it comes to being loved, he's first
♪ That's how I know
♪ The first cut is the deepest Baby, I know
♪ The first cut is the deepest
♪ I still want you by my side
♪ Just to help me dry the tears that I've cried
♪ And I'm sure gonna give you a try
♪ And if you want I'll try to love again
♪ But, baby, I'll try to love again But I know
♪ Oh, yeah
♪ The first cut is the deepest Baby, I know
♪ The first cut is the deepest
♪ 'Cause when it comes to being lucky, he's cursed
♪ When it comes to lovin' me, he's worse
♪ But when it comes to being loved, he's first
♪ That's how I know
♪ The first cut is the deepest Baby, I know
♪ The first cut is the deepest
♪ Oh, yeah
♪ The first cut is the deepest
♪ Yes, it is
♪ But when it comes to being lucky, he's cursed
♪ When it comes to being loved, he's worse
♪ When it comes to lovin' me, he's first
♪ That's how I know ♪
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