Them boys on the Grassy Knoll they were dead within three hours, buried in the damned desert, unmarked graves out past Terlingua.

You know this for a fact?

Still got the shovel...



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There was a guy in Russia. They locked his ass up. Another one in France. I know he's dead. There was one guy, but he don't shoot no more. A brutal son of a bitch. Most boys shoot to kill. He'd shoot to wound, wait till his friends come to help, kill them too. Turned one target into four. Men, women, children. Killed them by the hundreds. The other side wanted him. Bad. Finally narrowed his hide down to an abandoned six-story building. They quit the subtle tactics. They called in an artillery strike. Leveled a square block. Brought the building down on his ass. Some say he crawled out of there. Some say he died. Never heard from him no more.

I don't think you understand, these boys killed my dog.

I'm going to do all those whippits and pass out. Good luck okay?

That won't be necessary, Colonel, as I have already received no less than a dozen calls from highly-ranked and powerfully-placed individuals telling me to let you go. But the joy of checks and balances in our government is that I can, and am, indeed, required by law, to tell them to fuck off.

"Have you given your official statement yet, 'cuz I would be very cautious about what went in it."
"Well, maybe I should wait for the report to come out, read it, and then remember."

You still figuring on shooting me? Only that shotgun's a little long to bring up fast. Look, if you're going to do it, just get it over with. I ain't got nowhere else to go.


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I don't really like the President much.

The moment you think you got it figured, you’re wrong!