Christ. You two. All I can say is if I ever get anal polyps, I'll know what to name them.
Take it from me, buddy, it's always darkest just before the dawn.
Someone has to protect this family from the man who protects this family.
And one must learn to be rich. To be poor anyone can manage.
— How'd you get her to sleep so quick? Are you that boring?
— I'm comforting.
What happens now? I'll tell you what happens now. Your scumbag brother-in-law is finished, done. You understand? I will own him when this is over. Every cent he earns, every cent his wife earns, is mine. Anyplace he goes, anywhere he turns, I'm going to be there, grabbing my share. He'll be scrubbing toilets in Tijuana for pennies, and I'll be standing over him to get my cut. He'll see me when he wakes up in the morning and when he crawls to sleep in whatever rat hole's left for him after I shred his house down, I will haunt his crusty ass forever until the day he sticks a gun up his mouth and pulls the trigger just to get me out of his head. That's... what happens next.
Look, uh, so what if this is like math or algebra? You add a plus douche bag to a minus douche bag and you get, like, zero douche bags.
— What did you tell them?
— I told them they were a couple of dicks.
— He's a wordsmith.
I alone should suffer the consequences of those choices, no one else. And those consequences — they're coming. No more prolonging the inevitable.
