— That's your bathroom there?
— That's the bathroom. Don't work. The toilet's backed up. Sorry, man.
— Don't work?
— No, don't work.
— I can wait another week.
— Come back then, we'll have it fixed for you.
— Just do it, man! Just fuckin' kill me.
— I ain't gonna kill you. I ain't even gonna hurt you. I ask you, how can you fuck the only people who ever cared for you? How do you do that? You lost, motherfucker.
— Did you ever kill anybody?
— I'm sorry. Well, it's just not a simple question. I just can't answer it like... When I was a kid in East Harlem... the wops said... no spics could go east of Park Avenue. Spooks said: west of Fifth Avenue." That don't leave you much room to maneuver. Say you want to go to Central Park, play with the ducks. You're shit outta luck. So what do you do? You go anyway. I'm up on 106th Street, Central Park, near the lake. I get caught by these Copiens. Right? They surround me. So I get my blood up, pull out my blade. I said: I'll take any one of you mothers!" They say: your ass." Out come the zip guns. Homemade gun. You pull the hook back, catch that bullet square, ping. Hit you in the head, man, you got serious problems. That was the last chase on me like that... because from then on I carried my own piece. Guys went down, yeah, but it ain't like, you know, you just... decide one day, and then that's it. No. You just do what you gotta do to survive. Somehow, you know, you just end up where you are.