garcianacho/Scripts · Datasets at Hugging Face

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You're the one who brought it up. This morning. In your car.
That was just loose talk. I don't want anybody dead.
Bullshit. You wanted me to kill her.
A man doesn't always mean the things he says.
You meant it.
What makes you say that?
Because I think you're a slimy bastard who would have his wife killed just to get his hands on some money.
And what does that make you?
The slimy bastard who's going to do it for you.
Let's say I do want her dead. What is it you want? This morning you weren't a killer.
This morning I didn't know how badly I'd want to get out of this fucking town.
And for that you'd kill Grace?
For that I'd kill a nun on Easter Sunday.
Just to get out of here? That doesn't seem much for a murder.
How do you put a price on murder?
I put it at fiftythousand dollars, minus your cut, of course. Which is?
Make it twenty.
Twentythousand? I don't have that kind of money. I won't get the insurance until months after she's dead. I don't imagine you'll want to be around after poor Grace's demise. Twentythousand; that's more money than I could ever get my hands on.
How much could you get?
Maybe . . . tenthousand. And that's a maybe.
I need thirteen.
That's a bit much.
You're not buying a car, for Christ sake. You're having your wife killed. I'm the one who's neck is stuck out. It's thirteen, or it's nothing.
You drive a hard bargain, but I had a feeling you were my boy when I met you.
I'm not your boy, Jake. I don't like you, and I don't like what you are. I got no choice but to do business with you. This is just a nasty little marriage of convenience.
Don't say that. I had a marriage of convenience with Grace, and look where that's lead. Well, looks like we got ourselves a pact.
Do we shake hands?
If you can't trust the man you've hired to kill your wife . . .?
I guess I might as well get this done with.
The sooner it's over, the sooner you're on your way. Now listen to me: It's got to look like an accident; that's the thing. If it doesn't, then it's no good. I won't get a dime, and it's my neck that'll be on the chopping block while you're living it up somewhere.
What should I do?
How the hell should I know? I've never had a wife killed before. I guess I should have hired a professional.
You want to do this yourself? I don't have to do this, you know.
Be quiet, boy. I'm thinking. It can't be done at the house. It should be . . .
This is what you do: Go to the house to see her.
And tell her what?
I went to your place. We talked, just like you told me. We drove out into the desert . . .
Is the job done?
No.
You didn't kill her?
The time wasn't right.
You're out in the desert, the middle of nowhere with no one around for miles, and you say the time wasn't right? What's the matter? You were hoping to get it on home video? A keepsake for the grandkids. Thank God I waited, or I never would have gotten it on tape.
You know what I mean.
I know all right. I know you're just enough of a shit to have a go at bedding a man's wife. You've probably bagged a few at that. You'd probably lie, cheat and steal without thinking twice. From that you'd just turn and walk away. But to kill; to get that blood on your hands. You can't wash that off. You'd be a marked man for life. Just like Cain. And you're a sinner who wants to walk with the saints. Ain't that right, boy?
You know so much about killing why don't you do it yourself?
I guess I have what you'd call a lovehate relationship with Grace.
You love her, but you hate her?
I hate loving her. I hate the kind of her person she is. I hate having to tolerate the little games she plays. I hate letting her use me. But I love her too much to do otherwise. And I certainly love her too much to kill her. I couldn't stand to watch her eyes roll back in her head as she sucks her last breath, or to see her pretty pink brains spill from her skull. But you? You got the killing in you, boy.
Shut up.
Came close this time and it scares you.
Drop it, Jake.
And next time, next time somebody is going to get dead.
SHUT UP!
Jake, how much were you going to pay me to do the job?
Thirteenthousand dollars. Had you done it. Isn't that what we agreed on?
You think that's a lot of money?
All I have in the world.
That's what I like about you, Jake. You're an honest man.
Maybe not this time, but somebody's going to get dead around you.
No.
Yeah, well, me too.
Trouble with the car again?
You could say. I don't even have it yet.
Darrell giving you problems?
He did more work on the car. He wants fifty bucks extra for it.
Fifty dollars more. That's a lot of money when you don't have a dime. And where'd you plan on getting the money from? Maybe you thought you'd pay your friend Jake McKenna a visit.
It's not like that.
Maybe you heard old Jake's got some money stashed away and you thought you'd help yourself to a little.
Wait a minute. Just listen to me
You thought you'd come in here in the middle of the night and wham! Wail off and clock old Jake McKenna and turn his brains into wall paper.
Jake
And then with Jake out of the way you could borrow twohundred dollars. Or maybe twothousand. Or twentythousand. Who's to stop you? Not Jake McKenna, 'cause old Jake would be dead.
That's not the reason I'm here. I swear it.
There's another reason? It better be good.
I came for Grace.
You came to take my wife from me?
I came to kill her.
Liar.
It's the truth, Jake.
That's a thick change of heart.
Yeah, well, a couple of hours ago I just about killed some guy over a girl. Not for money, for a girl. And she was just going to stand there and let it happen, or let him kill me. Same way Grace played us this morning. I don't like that, Jake. Not twice in one day. And maybe I'm so pissed I'd twist the next off my own Grandma to get out of here.
That's a lot of talk. A whole lot of talk.
Damn it, Jake. If I don't get out of here some guys are going to come gunning for me. And if it comes down to me or Grace, then I pick Grace. You were going to give me thirteenthousand. Give me two hundred. I'll kill her and dump the body where no one will ever find it. But I need the money. I've got to have the money.
I'm curious about something. I'm wondering just how it is you happen to know where the bedroom's at.
Wh . . . what are you talking about?
This morning when I came in on you and Grace, you swore you hadn't so much as been near the bedroom. Now you make straight for it.
Come on, Jake
Don't Jake me, boy! It's a big house. Odd that you would know your way, except maybe you've been in the bedroom before. Maybe with Grace to keep you company.
Nothing happened with me and Grace this morning.
Then maybe this afternoon. When I sent you to kill my wife you ended up sexing her instead.
Christ, Jake, please
Is that what happened? Did you even make it out to the desert, or did you just ply the afternoon between my sheets?
You're not talking sense.
Sense? If I had any sense I would have killed you this morning and been done with it.
What are you . . . you can't . . . you can't kill me.
A drifter, a loner, a trouble maker like you? Just passing through town, need money so he busts in on an, old man. Only this old man's got himself an automatic, and he knows how to use it. A man's got to protect his home. His wife. You're dead, boy, and your own mother wouldn't convict me.
What difference does it make if I slept with her. You don't care about Grace.
You're right. I don't give a damn about her. But to fuck a man's wife behind his back? That just makes a fool out of him. I don't like being made a fool of.
I don't blame you. What man would? I admit it, okay? I came back here and I made it with Grace. But if you kill me you're making a big mistake.
Not from where I stand.

You're the one who brought it up. This morning. In your car.

That was just loose talk. I don't want anybody dead.

Bullshit. You wanted me to kill her.

A man doesn't always mean the things he says.

You meant it.

What makes you say that?

Because I think you're a slimy bastard who would have his wife killed just to get his hands on some money.

And what does that make you?

The slimy bastard who's going to do it for you.

Let's say I do want her dead. What is it you want? This morning you weren't a killer.

This morning I didn't know how badly I'd want to get out of this fucking town.

And for that you'd kill Grace?

For that I'd kill a nun on Easter Sunday.

Just to get out of here? That doesn't seem much for a murder.

How do you put a price on murder?

I put it at fiftythousand dollars, minus your cut, of course. Which is?

Make it twenty.

Twentythousand? I don't have that kind of money. I won't get the insurance until months after she's dead. I don't imagine you'll want to be around after poor Grace's demise. Twentythousand; that's more money than I could ever get my hands on.

How much could you get?

Maybe . . . tenthousand. And that's a maybe.

I need thirteen.

That's a bit much.

You're not buying a car, for Christ sake. You're having your wife killed. I'm the one who's neck is stuck out. It's thirteen, or it's nothing.

You drive a hard bargain, but I had a feeling you were my boy when I met you.

I'm not your boy, Jake. I don't like you, and I don't like what you are. I got no choice but to do business with you. This is just a nasty little marriage of convenience.

Don't say that. I had a marriage of convenience with Grace, and look where that's lead. Well, looks like we got ourselves a pact.

Do we shake hands?

If you can't trust the man you've hired to kill your wife . . .?

I guess I might as well get this done with.

The sooner it's over, the sooner you're on your way. Now listen to me: It's got to look like an accident; that's the thing. If it doesn't, then it's no good. I won't get a dime, and it's my neck that'll be on the chopping block while you're living it up somewhere.

What should I do?

How the hell should I know? I've never had a wife killed before. I guess I should have hired a professional.

You want to do this yourself? I don't have to do this, you know.

Be quiet, boy. I'm thinking. It can't be done at the house. It should be . . .

This is what you do: Go to the house to see her.

And tell her what?

I went to your place. We talked, just like you told me. We drove out into the desert . . .

Is the job done?

No.

You didn't kill her?

The time wasn't right.

You're out in the desert, the middle of nowhere with no one around for miles, and you say the time wasn't right? What's the matter? You were hoping to get it on home video? A keepsake for the grandkids. Thank God I waited, or I never would have gotten it on tape.

You know what I mean.

I know all right. I know you're just enough of a shit to have a go at bedding a man's wife. You've probably bagged a few at that. You'd probably lie, cheat and steal without thinking twice. From that you'd just turn and walk away. But to kill; to get that blood on your hands. You can't wash that off. You'd be a marked man for life. Just like Cain. And you're a sinner who wants to walk with the saints. Ain't that right, boy?

You know so much about killing why don't you do it yourself?

I guess I have what you'd call a lovehate relationship with Grace.

You love her, but you hate her?

I hate loving her. I hate the kind of her person she is. I hate having to tolerate the little games she plays. I hate letting her use me. But I love her too much to do otherwise. And I certainly love her too much to kill her. I couldn't stand to watch her eyes roll back in her head as she sucks her last breath, or to see her pretty pink brains spill from her skull. But you? You got the killing in you, boy.

Shut up.

Came close this time and it scares you.

Drop it, Jake.

And next time, next time somebody is going to get dead.

SHUT UP!

Jake, how much were you going to pay me to do the job?

Thirteenthousand dollars. Had you done it. Isn't that what we agreed on?

You think that's a lot of money?

All I have in the world.

That's what I like about you, Jake. You're an honest man.

Maybe not this time, but somebody's going to get dead around you.

No.

Yeah, well, me too.

Trouble with the car again?

You could say. I don't even have it yet.

Darrell giving you problems?

He did more work on the car. He wants fifty bucks extra for it.

Fifty dollars more. That's a lot of money when you don't have a dime. And where'd you plan on getting the money from? Maybe you thought you'd pay your friend Jake McKenna a visit.

It's not like that.

Maybe you heard old Jake's got some money stashed away and you thought you'd help yourself to a little.

Wait a minute. Just listen to me

You thought you'd come in here in the middle of the night and wham! Wail off and clock old Jake McKenna and turn his brains into wall paper.

Jake

And then with Jake out of the way you could borrow twohundred dollars. Or maybe twothousand. Or twentythousand. Who's to stop you? Not Jake McKenna, 'cause old Jake would be dead.

That's not the reason I'm here. I swear it.

There's another reason? It better be good.

I came for Grace.

You came to take my wife from me?

I came to kill her.

Liar.

It's the truth, Jake.

That's a thick change of heart.

Yeah, well, a couple of hours ago I just about killed some guy over a girl. Not for money, for a girl. And she was just going to stand there and let it happen, or let him kill me. Same way Grace played us this morning. I don't like that, Jake. Not twice in one day. And maybe I'm so pissed I'd twist the next off my own Grandma to get out of here.

That's a lot of talk. A whole lot of talk.

Damn it, Jake. If I don't get out of here some guys are going to come gunning for me. And if it comes down to me or Grace, then I pick Grace. You were going to give me thirteenthousand. Give me two hundred. I'll kill her and dump the body where no one will ever find it. But I need the money. I've got to have the money.

I'm curious about something. I'm wondering just how it is you happen to know where the bedroom's at.

Wh . . . what are you talking about?

This morning when I came in on you and Grace, you swore you hadn't so much as been near the bedroom. Now you make straight for it.

Come on, Jake

Don't Jake me, boy! It's a big house. Odd that you would know your way, except maybe you've been in the bedroom before. Maybe with Grace to keep you company.

Nothing happened with me and Grace this morning.

Then maybe this afternoon. When I sent you to kill my wife you ended up sexing her instead.

Christ, Jake, please

Is that what happened? Did you even make it out to the desert, or did you just ply the afternoon between my sheets?

You're not talking sense.

Sense? If I had any sense I would have killed you this morning and been done with it.

What are you . . . you can't . . . you can't kill me.

A drifter, a loner, a trouble maker like you? Just passing through town, need money so he busts in on an, old man. Only this old man's got himself an automatic, and he knows how to use it. A man's got to protect his home. His wife. You're dead, boy, and your own mother wouldn't convict me.

What difference does it make if I slept with her. You don't care about Grace.

You're right. I don't give a damn about her. But to fuck a man's wife behind his back? That just makes a fool out of him. I don't like being made a fool of.

I don't blame you. What man would? I admit it, okay? I came back here and I made it with Grace. But if you kill me you're making a big mistake.

Not from where I stand.