Now, which brings us to our last item, and again… please excuse the language in Mr. Kowalski's will. I'm simply reading it the way it was written.
«And I'd like to leave my 1972 Gran Torino… to my friend, Thao Vang Lor on the condition that you don't chop-top the roof like one of those beaners don't paint any idiotic flames on it
like some white-trash hillbilly and don't put a big, gay spoiler on the rear end like you see on all the other zipperheads' cars. It just looks like hell. If you can refrain from doing any of that,
it's yours.»
So I'm hopeless. Rollin' down the freeway swervin, don't worry, I'm about to crash up on the curb, 'cause my visions blurry. Maybe if they tried to understand me, what should I do? I had to feed my fuckin' family, what else could I do? But be a thug, out slangin' with the homies, fuck hangin' with them phonies in the clubs. Got my mind on danger, never been a stranger to homicide. My city's full of gang bangers and drive-bys, why do we die at an early age? He was so young, but still a victim of the 12 gauge, my memories of a corpse.
I'm sorry. I couldn't get to the mastermind. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rantaro. I'm sorry, Shuichi.
You're alone, Kokichi
And you always will be.
It always happens, all the n*ggaz that change the world die, they dont get to die like regular people, they die violently.
I've got scars
Eventhough they can't always beseen
And pain gets hard,
But now you're here and I don't feel.
And now what? To remove the hunger... are you even willing to devour your best friend?
And yet, there is still hope, you see, for you are still a part of me.
— Can I ask you something?
— Yes.
— What did you like best?
— Pajamas.
Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name. But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume. Although you have indeed been called.
You have all been called here. Into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach. But you will never find them, none of you will. This is where your story ends.
And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you. Although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well, I am nearby.
This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away, as the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors: be still and give up your spirits, they don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend.
My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours. And then, what became of you? I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest, for you, and for those you have carried in your arms.
This ends for all of us.
— Don't you know you're the only sane one in this entire circus?
— Yeah, well, I...