Mr Man's-Man in the Challenger here screams at date-rape volume every single time: «I'm being carjacked!»
This kinda shit happens every day. I used to complain that every day felt the same and then May 9th came, and now every day IS the same. Ugh, same wake-up scream, same machete-wielding asshole, same everything, with slight variations. One thing that never changes... is I die every single day. I die.
Some things you can't redo. And some things you're forced to do over and over again...
Shit. I missed the exit to the Chinese restaurant and the last time I went anywhere else, it ended up really bad.
Attempt 158
— Hi. I need to know how to fight with a sword.
— I have no idea what you just said.
— I need to learn how to fight with a sword.
— There is something intriguing about you that I like. I'm flying home to Shanghai in the morning. I would only have a day.
— I think we can get a lot done in a day.
Attempt 161
— I'm a beginner, but I'm a quick learner.
— It is the one who wields it that makes it a weapon, Roy. That sword is no more an extension of you than a set of car keys.
Attempt 198
— I've had some training, but I'm willing to work hard.
— In lesser hands, the jian blade is just a flimsy piece of forged steel. But within the most determined grip and under the keenest eyes, it becomes a weapon
of annihilation.
Attempt 200
I've had a very good teacher, but I need to learn more.
— Hello, handsome. Are you surrendering? You're not really gonna fight me with a sword, are you? I do like your confidence.
— Normally, I'm a little more chatty. I do have one thing to say. I think it'll wait.
— Shit's about to get steel. Motherfucker.
— What I wanted to say was, ''I am Roy and Roy has done this''.
Can you imagine waking up every day with some random asshole like Mr Good Morning here trying to hack you up with a fucking machete? Seriously. This might have been fun for a while. Once the shock wore off, once I realised what the hell was happening, after nearly 140 times, it just fucking got annoying and I want it to stop. But I know it won't. You know how people say, "Oh, I can do that with my eyes closed," and you always think they sound like assholes? But... whatever. As many times as I've seen this happen to my apartment, I still can't help but think, "Fuck! Man, this is a lease." The landlord is already an asshole anyway and I'm never, ever getting my security deposit back.
— Drop it.
— What, the tooth?
— No, not the tooth.
— I'm not dropping it.
— Well, it drops or you drop.
— This is a custom handmade Walther PPK that cost me nearly half a million dollars at auction.
— You bought a handgun for half a million dollars?
— And had my personal pistolsmith fit it with a vintage SD-22 SpielWaffen suppressor, of which there are six in the world, for an additional $250,000.
— 750,000 bucks?
— Correct.
— Why in the fuck, Pam, would you ever do something like that?
— Pam?
— Well, I never got your name so I just call you Pam.
— We've met?
— Many, many times, in passing. Let me see it. Slow. Hold it by the trigger guard.
— Handle it as if it were porcelain, please.
— Soft as a whisper. A. H.?
— Adolf, Hitler.
— Qué?
— It was a personal gift from Carl Walther. Hitler kept it in his desk in Munich.
— You've been killing me with fuckin' Hitler's gun this whole time?
— It was stolen by an American serviceman in 1945.
— Jesus, what is wrong with you?
— Fast-forward to present day... — a very pretty penny.
— I didn't think this could get any worse. And it has. Who sent you?
— Wouldn't you like to know.
— Hint, hint?
— Never. Are you gonna kill me now?
— No, Pam, I'm gonna shoot you. That's for the Jews. Those too.
— Hello, handsome!
— You cut my head off a couple dozen times.
— Someone's been the busiest little beaver.
— What are you gonna do with that?
— I was thinking about fucking you up.
— You remember in 'Raiders', that asshole who was twirling a sword around and around, thinking he was all cool and shit? Indy just shot him 'cause he was exhausted, impatient, and just couldn't take the bullshit anymore. You remember that?
— Yeah.
— Fuck!
<...>
— Fun fact. Harrison Ford had the shits and that's why he shot that guy.
