— So what do we do now?
— I say we get drunk, kids — because I'm all out of ideas.
— What now?
— What now? Well let me tell you what now. I'm gonna call a couple pipe-hittin' niggers, who'll go to work on homes here with a pair of pilers and a blow torch. Hear me talkin' hillbilly boy?! I ain't through with you by a damn sight. I'm gonna git Medieval on your ass.
— I meant what now, between me and you?
— Oh, that what now? Well, let me tell ya what now between me an' you. There is no me an' you. Not no more.
— So we're cool?
— Yeah man, we're cool. One thing I ask — two things I ask: Don't tell nobody about this. This shit's between me and you and the soon-to-be-livin'-the-rest-of-his-short-ass-life-in-agonizing-pain, Mr. Rapist here. It ain't nobody else's business. Two: leave town. Tonight. Right now. And when you're gone, stay gone. You've lost your Los Angeles privileges. Deal?
— Deal.
— Get your ass outta here.
— Nothingness. Non-existence. Black emptiness.
— What did you say?
— Oh, I was just planning my future.
— I don`t get it... Was that a plan?
— Just impale them already!