garcianacho/Scripts · Datasets at Hugging Face

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You don't think someone will have a problem with a body being thrown off a balcony?
We check out the area and wait for a time when it's clear.
What about the blood?
Someone goes to Walmart, gets some buckets, brushes, mops, Spic and Span, the works.
Have you ever done this before?
The reality is, you take away the horror of this situation, take away the tragedy of the death, take away the moral and ethical implications of all the crap you have had conditioned, beaten, into your head since grade one. What are we left with? What? A 115 lb. problem. 115 lbs. that must be moved from point A to point B. Now, a straight line in the shortest distance but we are denied the luxury of a visible straight line. But that line exists and I see it.I see that line. Trust me. Adam. Trust me...I can take care of this.
Sun rises at 5:52.
I'm not wrecking the transmission!
Wait. Wait a minute.
What?
We can't do this.
We've already done this.
No, I mean the suitcases. We can't bury them in suticases.
How do you figure?
According to Jewish law, the blood and limbs are considered to be part of the human being. They must be buried together or their souls won't rest in peace.
So that's what we're doing.
No we're not. The bodies are all mixed up. We can't do this to them.
She's Asian. They don't have Jews in Asia.
That is absolutely not true.
Well what the fuck are we supposed to do?
Open the suitcases, unpack the body parts and reunite the limbs.
We have to get going.
I am not flexible on this.
Alright. Let's do it.
Now I am the last to say that we have done here is a good thing. It's not. It's not a good thing. But it was, given the circumstances, the smart play. We did what had to be done. And...well...I'm proud of us. I'm proud of each and every one of us. We performed. Under the most complex and nerve shattering of situations, we stood fast and we delivered. I feel proud.
We are all going straight to hell. Either hell or prison, whichever comes first.
Wrong. That is flat out wrong. Hell is for cowards, for hypocrites who fear to live by the strenght of their own convictions. This is war. Given the circumstances, and given the fact that we are alive and they are not, we have chosen life over death. Two wrongs don't make a right. So our conviction and execution would only mean more death here, not less.
Boyd you idiot, the shit's coming down!
What does that mean?
You got us into this mess.
Oh I did? I think it was your little rat fuck brother who decided to play Hamburger Helper with the hooker's head.
Would you, shush?! These phones aren't secure!
Lighten up Adam. Show some character.
Don't talk to me about character.
Watch the tone fella.
Fuck you Boyd!
Any time fat boy!
What is your problem?
I can't do this.
What?
At the seveneleven.
Who? What are you talking about?
They're on me. They're smoking me out!
Nobody's smoking anybody out.
You got some mighty fucking fine bad timing Adam. We got a rehearsal situation here.
I don't give a damn.
I didn't do anything! I'll turn your pathetic ass in!
Adam! Calm down.
I won't calm down. I can't do this. We can't do this. It won't work. It will not work.
It has worked.
I'm talking about DNA samples, fiber optics, search parties, they got infrared scanners, FBI scientists. They figure this shit out. They always figure it out.
They won't figure it out.
I got children. I've got a life.
All right. Let's all go back in. Adam? You're cool right?
No. I'm not Boyd. I am not cool at all.
We're leaving from my house in three hours. If you want to come, get your numbers in order by then.
First of all...
No first of all. I'm not in a game mood.
You're interrupting a personal conversation.
Sorry Fish.
It's really a stupid opinion. You have developed an annoying habit of talking for what seems to be no other reason than to hear yourself speak.
Because my opinion threatens yours, it's poorly developed?
No, because your opinions are idiotic and have nothing to do with what any given conversation is about, which makes 85% of your eagerly injected thought process highly offensive to me.
Boyd brought up divorce statistics.
You're an asshole Adam.
You're an asshole.
Oh, and why am I an asshole?
Multiple reasons.
Name one.
I don't have to...
Tonight we return once again to the cave. Tonight we let the monsters out. We fill ourselves with the spirits of Genghis Khan, Joe Namath, JFK, Paton, Lombardi, Hemingway...
Franco motherfucking Harris!
I was just playing...we were playing just playing around.
She's dead.
We were playing...she slipped...she hit her head.
Playing?
The floor was wet. She slipped!
Why was the floor wet?
I don't know why the floor was wet!
Why?!
Why?
It's sacrilegious.
This is pathetic.
You're pathetic.
What did you say?
You're not a team player.
Don't point at me.
You never were a team player. That's why you never had any friends.
I have plenty of friends.
The hell you do.
The hell I don't.
You have acquaintances business friends and superficial golf buddies. You have always been a fringe player. You have some serious male on male intimacy problems.
What are you fucking talking about?
Fucking Boyd. That fucking idiot. They're on to us.
They're not on to us. I'm gonna call Boyd.
About anybody but yourself. You never have.
And you're a little fucking reject.
Eat my ass!
If you ever touch my minivan again, I'll make you sorry. Real sorry.
You're a loser.

You don't think someone will have a problem with a body being thrown off a balcony?

We check out the area and wait for a time when it's clear.

What about the blood?

Someone goes to Walmart, gets some buckets, brushes, mops, Spic and Span, the works.

Have you ever done this before?

The reality is, you take away the horror of this situation, take away the tragedy of the death, take away the moral and ethical implications of all the crap you have had conditioned, beaten, into your head since grade one. What are we left with? What? A 115 lb. problem. 115 lbs. that must be moved from point A to point B. Now, a straight line in the shortest distance but we are denied the luxury of a visible straight line. But that line exists and I see it.I see that line. Trust me. Adam. Trust me...I can take care of this.

Sun rises at 5:52.

I'm not wrecking the transmission!

Wait. Wait a minute.

What?

We can't do this.

We've already done this.

No, I mean the suitcases. We can't bury them in suticases.

How do you figure?

According to Jewish law, the blood and limbs are considered to be part of the human being. They must be buried together or their souls won't rest in peace.

So that's what we're doing.

No we're not. The bodies are all mixed up. We can't do this to them.

She's Asian. They don't have Jews in Asia.

That is absolutely not true.

Well what the fuck are we supposed to do?

Open the suitcases, unpack the body parts and reunite the limbs.

We have to get going.

I am not flexible on this.

Alright. Let's do it.

Now I am the last to say that we have done here is a good thing. It's not. It's not a good thing. But it was, given the circumstances, the smart play. We did what had to be done. And...well...I'm proud of us. I'm proud of each and every one of us. We performed. Under the most complex and nerve shattering of situations, we stood fast and we delivered. I feel proud.

We are all going straight to hell. Either hell or prison, whichever comes first.

Wrong. That is flat out wrong. Hell is for cowards, for hypocrites who fear to live by the strenght of their own convictions. This is war. Given the circumstances, and given the fact that we are alive and they are not, we have chosen life over death. Two wrongs don't make a right. So our conviction and execution would only mean more death here, not less.

Boyd you idiot, the shit's coming down!

What does that mean?

You got us into this mess.

Oh I did? I think it was your little rat fuck brother who decided to play Hamburger Helper with the hooker's head.

Would you, shush?! These phones aren't secure!

Lighten up Adam. Show some character.

Don't talk to me about character.

Watch the tone fella.

Fuck you Boyd!

Any time fat boy!

What is your problem?

I can't do this.

What?

At the seveneleven.

Who? What are you talking about?

They're on me. They're smoking me out!

Nobody's smoking anybody out.

You got some mighty fucking fine bad timing Adam. We got a rehearsal situation here.

I don't give a damn.

I didn't do anything! I'll turn your pathetic ass in!

Adam! Calm down.

I won't calm down. I can't do this. We can't do this. It won't work. It will not work.

It has worked.

I'm talking about DNA samples, fiber optics, search parties, they got infrared scanners, FBI scientists. They figure this shit out. They always figure it out.

They won't figure it out.

I got children. I've got a life.

All right. Let's all go back in. Adam? You're cool right?

No. I'm not Boyd. I am not cool at all.

We're leaving from my house in three hours. If you want to come, get your numbers in order by then.

First of all...

No first of all. I'm not in a game mood.

You're interrupting a personal conversation.

Sorry Fish.

It's really a stupid opinion. You have developed an annoying habit of talking for what seems to be no other reason than to hear yourself speak.

Because my opinion threatens yours, it's poorly developed?

No, because your opinions are idiotic and have nothing to do with what any given conversation is about, which makes 85% of your eagerly injected thought process highly offensive to me.

Boyd brought up divorce statistics.

You're an asshole Adam.

You're an asshole.

Oh, and why am I an asshole?

Multiple reasons.

Name one.

I don't have to...

Tonight we return once again to the cave. Tonight we let the monsters out. We fill ourselves with the spirits of Genghis Khan, Joe Namath, JFK, Paton, Lombardi, Hemingway...

Franco motherfucking Harris!

I was just playing...we were playing just playing around.

She's dead.

We were playing...she slipped...she hit her head.

Playing?

The floor was wet. She slipped!

Why was the floor wet?

I don't know why the floor was wet!

Why?!

Why?

It's sacrilegious.

This is pathetic.

You're pathetic.

What did you say?

You're not a team player.

Don't point at me.

You never were a team player. That's why you never had any friends.

I have plenty of friends.

The hell you do.

The hell I don't.

You have acquaintances business friends and superficial golf buddies. You have always been a fringe player. You have some serious male on male intimacy problems.

What are you fucking talking about?

Fucking Boyd. That fucking idiot. They're on to us.

They're not on to us. I'm gonna call Boyd.

About anybody but yourself. You never have.

And you're a little fucking reject.

Eat my ass!

If you ever touch my minivan again, I'll make you sorry. Real sorry.

You're a loser.