-What you doing, mister?
-Nothing.
-You’ re trespassing on private property.
-Trespassing?
-Loitering too.
-That’s right. You’ re loitering too.
-I didn’t see any signs.
-What you call that?
-Graffiti?
-No, man. That’s not f*cking graffiti! That’s a sign.
-He can’t read it, man.
-I’ll read it for you. It says this is private property. No f*cking trespassing. This means f*cking you!
-It says all that?
-Yeah!
-If you wrote it in English, I’d f*cking understand it!
-Thinks he’s being funny.
-I’m not laughing.
-I’m not either.
-Hold it, fellas. We’ re getting off on the wrong foot. This is a gangland thing, isn’t it? We’re having a territorial dispute? I’ve wandered into your pissing ground or whatever the damn thing is. . .and you’ re offended by my presence. I understand that. I mean, I wouldn’t want you people in my back yard, either. This is your home. . . .and your home is your home. I respect that. So if you would just back up a step or two. . .I’ll take my problems elsewhere. Fair enough?
-What do you think?
-He should pay a toll.
-Good idea. You should pay a toll.
-Listen, fellas. . .I’ve had a rare morning. I’ m not in the mood to—
-What should he pay?
-How about that briefcase?
-Good idea.
-Give us your briefcase, man.
-I’ m not giving you my goddamn briefcase.
-Motherf*cker, give us your motherf*cking briefcase!
-I was willing to mind my own business. I was willing to respect your territory and treat you like a man. You couldn’t let a man. . .sit here for five minutes to rest
on your precious piece-of-shit hill. Want my briefcase?
I’ll get it for you, all right? You want my briefcase? Here’s my briefcase!
(Stabbing, clubbing etc. Gang members run away.)
-Where are you going? You forgot the briefcase! I’m going home! Clear the path, you motherf*cker! Clear the path! I’m going home!