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Our Father, who art in heaven,|hallowedbe Thyname. Thy kingdom come,|Thy will be done, on earth|as it is in heaven. Give us this day|our daily bread, and forgive us|our trespasses, as we forgive those|who trespass against us. And lead us|not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom,|the power... and the glory|now and forever. - Amen.|- Amen. Thank you, Father Macklepenny, for coming all the way|across town to be our guest speaker. When Iraisemy flashing sword... and my hand|takes hold on judgment, I will take vengeance|up on mine enemies. And I will repay those|who haze me. O Lord, raise me|to Thy right hand... and count me|among Thy saints. And I am reminded|on this holy day... of the sad story|of Kitty Genovese. As you all may remember, a long time ago,|almost 30 years ago, this poor soul|cried out for help... time and time again, but no person|answer her calls. Though many saw, no one so much|as called the police. They all just watched as Kitty|was being stabbed to death... in broad daylight. They watched as|her assailant walked away. Now, we must all fear|evil men. But there is|another kind of evil... which we must fear most, and that is|the indifference... of good men! I do believe the monsignor's|finally got the point. Aye. Hey, Connor! What? Yeah!|Who's the master? You're gonna be|training her today. Aye. - Basically, the rule of thumb here is--|- Wait. Rule of thumb? In the early 1900s, it was legal|for men to beat their wives... as long as they used a stick|no wider than their thumb. Can't do much damage|with that then, can we? Perhaps it should've been|the ""rule ofwrist.'' I knew you two pricks|would give me problems. Come on. It's St. Patty's Day.|It's all in good fun. Ah, fuckyou!|And fuckyou too! We're sorry, all right?|Just-Just relax. Oh, shit. Hey, fuck-ass,|give me a beer. Listen, boys, I've got|some very bad news. I'm gonna have to|close down t-t-the bar. The Russians are buying up buildings|all over the town, includin' this one. Fuck! Ass! And they're not lettin' me|renew my lease. - Let me talk to my boss. - Maybe he can do something.|- What the fuck's your boss gonna do? Listen, fellas,|I don't want anyone to know. Soyou keep your traps shut! You know what they say:|People in glass houses sink s-s-ships. Hey, Doc, I gotta buyyou,|like, a proverb book or somethin'. This mix-and-match shit|has gotta go. - What? A penny saved is worth|two in the bush, isn't it? And don't cross the road|ifyou can't get out ofthe kitchen. What's this, then? I am Ivan Checkov,|and you will be closing now. Checkov. Well, this here's McCoy.|We find a Spock,|we've got us an away team. Me in no mood for discussion.|You, you stay. The rest of you,|go now. Why don't you make like a tree|and get the fuck out ofhere! You know he's got|till the week's end, right? You don't have to be|hard-asses, doya? - It's St. Patty's Day.|Everyone's Irish tonight.|- Mmm. Why don't you just|pull up a stool|and have a drink with us? - This is no game! Ifyou won't go, we will make you go. So these two guys are kickin'|the shit out ofeach other, right? This guy picks up|an old kitchen sink or something... and fuckin' crushes|this guy with it. It makes a big bang. Look at him. His spine's all crushed.|Had to be one big motherfucker. Huge. Three, four hundredp ounds.|Fuckin' huge. - That's pretty thin.|- Very thin. Okay.|Allright, allright. Say these two guys right here,|they don't even know|the fuckin' huge guy. They're just staggering home|from a bar still all fucked up|from St. Patty's last night. They decide to take a shortcut|down through the alley. Wrong fuckin' alley, huh? 'Cause this big motherfucker,|he's just waitin' for 'em, right? And what could be more perfect|for a strong-arm robbery?|Two drunk guys all bandaged up. They're already injured,|for Christ's sakes. Lookat 'em. These guys are stumblin'|through the alley.| Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-la This guy takes a blunt object,|fuckin'-- Waah! Hits the guy with the bandages|around his head, right?|Why? 'Cause he's smart. He knows the guy with|the band age around his ass,|he ain't goin' nowhere. He's goin' fuckin' nowhere! Where are you goin'?|Nowhere! That's right. He ain't done yet.|He comes over and jumps|on this guy's back... and crushes him to death. I feel something big here. I wouldn't be surprised to see|a lot ofthese turnin' up. Brilliant! So now we got|a huge guy theory... and a serial crusher theory. Top notch. - What's your name?|- Detective Greenly. - Who the fuck areyou?|- That's who the fuck I am. Listen, I gotta do this|by the numbers. I.D.just came back|on these guys. They got connections|with the Russian mob. That makes it|a federal matter. And Agent Smecker here|is heading up the investigation|with our full cooperation. - Why don'tyou get me a cup ofcoffee?|- Who the hell is this? - A cafe latte, twist of lemon,|- What the fuck-- - Chief, what the fuck is this?|- Sweet 'N Low. - Mitchell, Langley! - Yes, sir.|- Find the manager of this building. See if he's had any complaints|of water coming down... in any of the apartments|startingjust this morning. Langley, you take that building.|Same thing. Chaffey! Newman! - Yes, sir.|- Look in the trash around their hands. See ifyou can fnd me|two bullet casings, fifty-caliber|if my eyes serve me right. Newman,|rip through this shit. If this was a sink, find me some metal parts. Give me a drain cover,|faucet or something. Got it right here.|It's a 50-cal. Chief, can you get|ballistics down here... and tell 'em they have to dig|a 50-caliber slug... out ofa brickwall|and locate another that's been|fred through a Dumpster? We have the best|ballistics guy in the world. - I can have him here in ten minutes.|- How did you know that? Liquid paraffn. Came up positive. And bullet holes|are usually a big clue. Nobody reported|any gunshots. This is an Irish neighborhood.|I'm surprised you even got a phone call. You know, I can't find|these condone, sir. Look under the body. Oh, yeah, there it is. You guys ready for this? This was no|gangland assassination. Though creative,|it was way too sloppy. Something went wrong here.|This has ""personal'' written all over it. Agent Smecker.|Yeah, this is all illegal loft housing. There's no manager on|the premises, but they found|a lady on the fourth floor... who said she had water dripping|down on her whole place. - It started just this morning.|- Fourth floor, huh? Mm-hmm. Then we're headin'|to the fifth. Come on. Let's get out of here.|You're reachin; man. - It's a theory.|- I don't know. No way. You know how big a guy's|gotta be to do that? Fuckin' huge. Oh, really? I might just be|wantin' a bagel with my coffee. I ain't gettin' him|no fuckin' bagel. We'll start the ass kissing|with you. Agent Smecker.|Agent-- Listen, I know this neighborhood|pretty good. There's a bar down the block|named McGinty's. - It stands a good chance|they were there last night.|- Good work, Mitchell. I'll check it out myself. Lookat the ceiling.|Sensey our touch alone. Wait until you feel me move.|Ooh. So quick you couldn't|even feel it go, could you? Let's try it again.|Try it again. Look at the ceiling. It's Doc. - Thanks for comin', Doc.|- Jesus Christ! What the fuck happened?|Are-Are you b-b-boys all right? - We're alive.|- An F.B.I. agent came by the bar... and he left me|his c-c-ca-- He left me his c-c--|Oh, he fuckin' gave me this.|Fuck! - Ass! What are you gonna do? We oughta turn ourselves in,|tell him it was self-defense. Yeah, yeah, yeah.|That's what he said. - How the fuck's he know that?|We haven't spoken to anyone.|- D-D-Don't know. He d-d-didn't say. All right. Listen, Doc,|we need you to do us a favor. - A-A-Anything.|-Just hold on to this for us. - We're gonna come back for it|when we get out.|- Right. Fuck! Ass! None ofthat cursing|was directed atyou.|He's-- He's a bit-- First ofall, I'd like to thank|which ever one of you... doughnut-munching,|barrel-assed, pud-pulling sissies|leaked this to the press. That's just|what we need now-- some sensational story|in the papers... making these boys out to be|superheroes triumphing over evil. Let me squash|the rumors now. These two are not heroes. They're just|two ordinary men... who were put in|an extraordinary situation, and they just happened|to come out on top. Yes, nothing from our|far-reaching computer system... has turned up diddly|on these two. All we know is what|we found out from the neighbors. And the general consensus is, they're angels. But angels don't kill. And we got|two bodies in the morgue... that look like they've been|serial-crushed... by some huge, friggin' guy. Are we considering these guys|armed and dangerous? Well, not armed. If they had guns,|they would've used them.|But dangerous? Very. Now, what makes you think|they're dangerous? - Maybe they're just|protectin' each other. Hey, look, I-I-I'm not sayin'|one way or the other. Just be careful and go|by the protocol on this. It's grunt police work|that's gonna bring this one in. These guys are|miles away by now. But if you wanna beat your head|against the wall, then|here's what you're lookin'for. They're scared, like|two little bunny rabbits. Anything in a uniform|or flashing blue lights|is gonna spook 'em. Okay? So the only thing we can do|is put a potato on a string... and drag it through|South Boston. - Thanks for comin' out. You'd probably have|better luckwith a beer. You would. - Oh, fuck.|- Hey, Greenly. Onion bagel, cream cheese. This conversation|is going to be recorded. Just answer to|the best of your knowledge. Excuse me, sir.|Please. Okay, we're ready. You boys are not under oath here.|Just answer the questions. I'm assuming... you knew these guys|from before, huh? We met them last night. They had some|pretty interesting bandages. Know anything about that? Listen, if you want to fght,|you can see you're out numbered here. We're trying to be civil,|so I suggest you take our offer. I make the offers. Hey, Boris. What would you do... ifI told you... -your pinko Commie mother|sucks so much dick, her face looks like an egg? - Fuckyou!|- What are you doin'? Stay away!|He can take care of himself!. Freeze,|you fuckin' Irish faggots! Get the fuck up! - Come on!|- Getyour fuckin' hands offofme! Cuff yourself around the back!|Cuff yourself!. Cuffit! You know why|I fucking come here? I come here to kill you. But now, I no think|I fucking kill you. I kill your brother. Shoothim in thehead. - Fuckyou!|- Gotta go. Connor! It wasjust a fuckin' bar fght!|You guys are fuckin' pussies! I hope your conscience|is clear, Irishman. So, how is it... - thatyou guys are fluent in Russian?|- We paid attention in school. Doyou speak|any other languages? - Aye. Our mother insisted on it.|- French? Oh, that's beautiful. - What's that?|- It's Italian. - Jawohl. What areyou guys doin' workin'|at a friggin' meat packing plant? - Uh, Agent Smecker?|Thepress is everywhere.|- Yeah. They're just goin' nuts for these guys.|I don't know what you wanna do. You're not being charged.|It's up to you. You wanna talk to 'em? - Absolutely not.|- No pictures either. Is there anyway|that we could stay here? Uh, yeah. You know,|we have an extra holding cell|you guys can-- - Can they stay?|- Well, we'll have|to check with your mom. But it's okay with me|if your friends sleep over. Time to feed the dogs. Okay, people.|Okay. This is our|offcial statement. The MacManus brothers|are not being charged|with a crime. This isa clear-cutcase|of self-defense. They are being released|at an undisclosed|time and location... in accordance with|their wishes. - Do the MacManus brothers|have any priors?|- Can we speak to the brothers? - Hey, Rocco, how you doin'?|- Hey! Yeah! What have you got there? - Ahh.|- Very nice. This poor soul... cried out for help. They watched as|he simply walked away. Indifference of good men! Nobody wanted to get involved. Nobody - Who so ever shed my blood, by man shall his blood|be shed. For in the image of God|may deem aman. Destroy all that|which is evil. So that which is good|may flourish. What the fuck is that? It's that fuckin'|Russian's pager. Let's go. How areya? - Keep the faith, man.|- Fuckin' blow me. - What was that?|Have you got a pen?|- Yeah. Here you go. - Thanks. Be right back.|- Good morning, son. How areya? - Good morning.|- We'd be honored if you would join us. - See this?|- What's this? Saints? Body of Christ.|Body of Christ. Amen. That's not funny, man.|Give it here, package boy. Joey Beevo said it was important.|Said to give it to him myself. Give me the fuckin' thing. Sit the fuck down. So, I'm Rocco.|I'm the funny man. I'm so fuckin' funny. - Fuck you, Vincenzo.|- Uh-huh. How did you get|that shiner on your eye? What's the matter, someone|didn't think you were very funny? I caught your show at|the Velvet Room at the Holiday Inn. Loved it when you busted into|""Viva Las Vegas.'' - Hey, hey, hey You insignifcant little fuck! I always get my money,|you cock sucking bastardo! The '90s are killing me. I shouldn't have done that. You're not supposed to tell a guy|you're gonna kill him no more. I gotta tip to through the tulips|with these assholes. Taking all the fun|out of the job. Pappa Joe,|you want me to go now? All the boys tell me|how you make them laugh|when you come around. What a crack up you are.|What do they call you? Uh, the-- The-The funny man. The funny man. I'm having a shitty day.|I'm depressed. Tell me a funny joke. Now? A joke? Uh-- Um, uh, a joke.|Yeah, allright. Um, there's these, uh,|three guys-- a-a-a spic, a-a-a white guy|and a black guy. - Nigger!|- Yeah. N-N-- Yeah.|And they're walkin'|along the beach. They see this pot.|They rub it,|a genie comes out. Genie says you can wish for|anything you want. He asks|the Mexican whathe wants. And he goes, ""I want all my people in America|to be happy and free in Mexico.'' So the genie-- Poof!.|And all the spics|are in Mexico. - And then he asks the black guy--|- Nigger. Yeah, that's what I said. He goes to the nigger,|says, ""What do you want?'' And he goes, ""I want all my African-- ""my nigger brothers|in America... to be back in Africa|and happy and everything.'' So the genie goes poof!. And, um, all the niggers|in America... are in Africa. And this is goin'--|I'm not funny today. I know. I'm havin' a hard day.|I-I-- Thisjoke sucks. It's just a stupid joke. Continue the joke. So the genie|says to the white guy, ""What's your one wish?'' And the white guy goes,|""You mean to tell me... all the niggers and spics|are out of America?'' The genie goes, ""Yeah.''|He says, "" Well, um,|I'll have a Coke then.'' "I'll have a Coke..." Yeah.|Everybody's out, so he just wants a Coke,|'cause that's all he needs. - Tell me one more.|- What? Knock your selves out. Fuckin' hell. - Doyou know what|we need, man? Some rope.|- Absolutely. - What are ya, insane?|- No, itain't. Charlie Bronson's|always got rope. - What?|- Yeah. He's got a lot of rope strapped|around him in the movies,|and they always end up using it. - You've lost it, haven't it?|- No, I'mserious. That's stupid. Name one thing|you'd need a rope for. You don't fuckin' know|what you're gonna need it for.|They just always need it. What's this ""they'' shit ?|This isn't a movie. Oh. Right. Is that right, Rambo? All right.|Get your stupid fuckin' rope. I'll get my stupid rope. I'll get it. There's rope right there. You nervous? - A bit.|- Myselfas well. Hello? Uh-huh.|Room number? Have we got|a time ofdeath? - We got a body count? - Uh-huh. I'll be down there in a bit. Keep the press out. - What are you doin'?|- I just wanted to cuddle. Cuddle?|What a fag. Ooh. This is a fucking|slaughter house. - How many bodies, Greenly?|- Eight. Aw, shit.|I forgot about that one.|Nine. Nine? While Greenly's out gettin' coffee,|any body else want anything? Shit! So, Duffy, you got any theories|to go with that tie? Look, fuck all|these other guys. This was their target--|the fag man. The what man? The fat man. Well, Freud was right. So you think they came|for the fag man, huh? What do you base this about He was the only one done right.|Double tap back of the head. - And the pennies?|- New hit man wants to leave his mark. That's a possibility. Now you Irish cops|are perkin'up. That's two sound theories|in one day, neither of which deal|with abnormally-sized men. Kind of makes me feel|like River dancing. An other possibility is|they were placed there|with religious intent. Okay, some cultures still|put pennies in the eyes|of the dead. Or silver. The Italians, the Greeks. Sicilians. So, what's|the ""symbology'' there? The ""symbology''? Now that Duffy has relinquished|his King Bonehead crown, I see we have an heir|to the thrown. I'm sure the word you were|looking forwas ""symbolism.''|What is the symbolism there. Let me explain it toyou. In Greek and Roman mythology, when you died, you'd have|to pay the toll to Charon, the boatman who ferried you|across to the Gates of Judgment. This made sure the dead|came to at one for what they did|during their lives, Detective Alapopskalius. Jesus. You're the frst one|that ever got that. Yeah, well, I'm an expert|in nameology. These burns indicate|that they used silencers. Look at these|entry and exit wounds. They're almost identical. The two bullets went in here|through the top ofthe skull, crisscrossed, and exited|through the eyeballs. This one clue tells us|three distinct facts. - Number one. Duffy?|- They shot him at a downward angle. - They put him on his knees?|- Excellent. Number two. Greenly. They shot him|at a downward angle? It tells us|he was the last to die. And number three.|Dolly. There was two shooters. - Fan-freakin'-tastic.|- Hey, wait a minute. Staywith me, boys.|What did they do... to make two such|identical wounds? Two men of similar height|dropped this guy down. Each puts some iron|to his head and boom!|That's all she frickin' wrote. - What about one guy, two guns?|- Ah, possible. But unlikely.|The angles are too extreme. A guy holding two guns|to the back of your noodle is|going to shoot straight ahead. He wouldn't cock out his elbows.|It makes no sense. Besides, areyou telling me|one guy came in here... and killed eight men with eight|extremely well-aimed shots|in just a few seconds? No way.|It had to be at least two. You and your fuckin' rope. - I told you there would be a shaft.|-Just like on television. Fuck. Where the fuck|areyou goin'? Shh! I fuckin' hear|some shit out here. Fuck you.|I'm sweatin' my ass off draggin'|your fuckin' rope around. - It must weigh 30 pounds.|- Shh! We are doin' some serious|shit here. Now, get|a fuckin' hold of yourself!. Oh, fuck you!|I'm not the rope-totin'|Charlie Bronson wannabe... - that's gettin' us fuckin' lost.|- Would you fuckin' shut it! You mother-- -Jesus fuckin' Christ.|- Oh, shit! Shepherds we shall be|forThee, my Lord, forThee. Power hath descended forth|from Thy hand. Our feet may swiftly|carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth|to Thee, and teeming|with souls shall it ever be. AndI shall count thee|among my favored sheep. And you shall have the protection|of all the angels in heaven. Television. Television is|the explanation for this. You see this in bad television. The little assault guys|creepin' through the vents,|comin' in through the ceiling. ThatJames Bond shit|never happens in real life.|Professionals don't do that. Well, name one thing|you're gonna need|this stupid fuckin' rope for. - That was way easier than I thought.|- Aye. On TV,|you've always got that guy|thatjumps over the sofa. - And then you've gotta shoot him|for ten fuckin' minutes too.|- Aye. - We're good.|- Yes, we are. Now, what doyou think|is in that little case there? - Fuck me!|- Oh. The hits just keep on comin'. Ow!|Give it a smell. - I love our new job. Bastard.|This has got to be|his big break. -Yeah.|- We've got to fuckwith him, right? - Okay. Shh. Open the door.|I'm gonna grab him|by the fuckin' hair. - Sit down! - Get down! Shut up!|- Don't shoot! Don't shoot! - We're on the same side.|Please, don't shoot.|- Get on the ground! Don't shoot, don't shoot.|We're on the same side. Boss must've sent me|in as backup. I'm Rocco! - I'm the funny man.|That ain't my name.|- Where's your gun? - Where's your gun?|- I'm the fuckin' funny man!|It's right here. Right here. That ain't my real name. What the fuck?|Jeez! It's a fuckin' six-shooter! - There's nine bodies, genius! What the fuck were you gonna do,|laugh thelast three to death,|funnyman? Pappa Joe said|there was only two!|In and out! Boy, you guys|sure did a good job. Ah, shit.|You guys are good, huh? Cool masks.|Where'd you get 'em? - We gotta do him right here!|- Right now! - Don't, please! I'm the funny man!|- Right. - Don't kill me!|Don't kill me, please!|- Right! I'm the funnyman! Whata fuckin' idiot! Fuckin'--|What the fuckin' fuck--|Who the fuck-- Fuck this fuckin'--|How did you two|fuckin' fucks-- Fuck! Well, that certainly illustrates|the diversity of the word. All these guys|are Russian mob. But not like those two peons|in the alley the other day. These guys are all syndicate|bosses and underbosses. I have a dossier|on every man in this room. Since the Iron Curtain|has gone down, the Russian syndicates|have started to come here. And in the spirit of Glasnost,|the Soviets have opened|their borders to the Mafia. But the Italians,|they aren't convinced... the grounds in Mother Russia|are fertile enough|for organized crimeyet. So they ain't ready to commit.|But the Russians|are coming here anyway. They are unwelcome. So, what we have here,|gentlemen, is possibly the beginning... of the frst|international mob war. Unless I've|totally missed something. I'm live from|the Copley Plaza Hotel, where we have just been informed|that the largest multiple murder... in Boston's history|hasjust taken place. We have learned that|there were nine victims, all deeply involved in a notoriously|violent Russian crime syndicate, right here in Boston. Any body you think is evil? Aye. Don't you think|that's a little weird, a little psycho? Doyou know what I think|is psycho, Roc? It's decent men|with loving families. They go home|every day after work,|and they turn on the news. You know what they see?|They see rapists... and murderers|and child molesters. They're all gettin'|out ofprison. Mafiosos... gettin' caught|with 20 kilos... gettin' out on bail|the same fuckin' day. And everywhere,|everyone thinks the same thing-- that someone should just|go kill those motherfuckers. Kill 'em all.|Admit it. Even you've thought about it. You guys should be|in every major city. This is some heavy shit. This is like|""Lone Ranger'' heavy, man. Fuck it!|There's so much shit|that pisses me off!. You guys should recruit, 'cause|I'm sick and fuckin' tired... of walkin' down the street|wait in' for one of these crack-pipin', ass-wipin', motherless|low lifes to get me! Hallelujah, Jaffar. So you're not just talkin'|about mob guys, right? You're talkin' about pimps|and drug dealers|and all that shit, right? Oh, yeah. Fuck. You guys could|do this every goddamn day. We're sort oflike 7-Eleven. We're not always doin' business,|but we're always open. - Mmm. That is nicely put.|- Thankyou very much. I will fuckyou up, dude. So then we go right through|the fuckin' ceiling like this-- Oh, boy.|You fuckin' guys.|You ruined me. I'm fuckin' done. Permanent fuckin' package boy. Who said that?|You can take credit|on that, you know? What, are you serious? Yeah. Fuck it. If you think about it,|it's all you can do, really. I mean,|you can't goin there|and tell him it was us. Climb the corporate|ladder, boy. Don Rocco. Fuck it. I'm doin' it.|I deserve it. I've been workin'|for those fat bastards|since I've been in high school. Look at this fuckin' place.|They're fuckin' me, man. They can suck|my pathetic little dick! And I'll dip my nuts|in marinara sauce... just so the fat bastards|can get a taste ofhome|while they're at it. Fuckit!|I'm doin'it. It is done!|Shit! - Shit! Shit!|- Oh, my God! - What the fuck!|- I'm hit! Oh, fuck! What the fuck! I can't believe|that just fuckin' happened! - Is it dead?|- Oh, my God! Donna's gonna be angry|about her cat. Shit. She's on every drug|known to man. She'd have sold the thing|for a dime bag. Screw her. I do kind of feel|like an asshole, though. Yeah, Roc, you sound|real remorseful there. She ain't been around|in weeks anyhow. Listen, something's been|botherin' me about last night. What? What if your boss knew|how many fellows|were supposed to be there? - What are you--|What areyou sayin'?|- Think about it. Nine men, six bullets. Think they sold me out?|No way. No way. Listen, he probably knew|you'd end up nailin' the fat guy, maybe one or two more,|but he had to know you|weren't walkin' out of there. Figure it out.|The shooter's dead at the scene. There's no|in-depth investigation. They'll just slide right off|his fuckin' back. 'Cause what the fuck? As much as I love you, man,|you are not exactly Don Corleone. No, no, that-- That's just not the way|things are done.|Besides, how does he know... I just don't get in there,|see there's too many of'em,|serve 'em their fuckin' food-- Because he fuckin'|knows you, Roc! A smooth hitter would have|gone in there, seen it was|a fuckin' wash and slipped out. Butyou, he knows|this is your only shot. You've been waitin'|18 fuckin' years. No. No, no.|That-That-- Thatjust ain't the way--|No, that's bull-- That's bullshit. You don't know what|you're talkin' about. That's|just not the way things happen. I mean, thanks for your concern and all,|but that just ain't the thing of it. Do me a favor, all right?|Just roll it around a bit|on your way in. - Will you for me?|- No. No rollin'. Nothin' needs to be rolled.|Fuck! - Where the fuck are you goin'?|Did you tell him?|- Ofcourse I fuckin' told him. - Then what the fuck?|- You guys don't know|that shit for sure! Oh, you're such|a fuckin' retard! - Hey, fuck you!|- Oh, man, use your|fuckin' brain for once! Is it so unbelievable that|they don't fuckin' care about ya? Oh, yeah, you two fuckin' Micks|know what's goin' on, huh? - Fuckyouboth!|- This is not a fuckin' thing you|should gamble on, all right? I'm the fuck out ofhere. Fine! Fuck it! What kind of flowers you want|at your funeral, you dumb wop? - It's the last time I'm gonna seeya!|- I'll be back at nine! - Bury the fuckin' cat!|- Listen, you get in there... and you start gettin' a bad vibe,|you get the fuck out quick! - Hello? - Murph.|- Hey, Roc. You okay? Anybody call for me? No, man.|Areyou sureyou're okay? I'm fuckin' fne. I'll catch you|on the flip side. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Pack your shit! Pack your shit!|We gotta get out of here! - We gotta get out!|- What the fuck are you talkin' about? I killed them!|Oh,Jesus, I killed them all! -Just calm down.|Tell us what happened.|- No! - Rocco!|- Calm down, man. Fuck you!|You start gettin' excited,|motherfucker! - We gotta go!|- Rocco! - Well, how many were there?|- Fuckin' hurry the fuck up! All right!|I love this shit! - What the fuck is wrong withyou, Roc?|- The cocksucker sold me out! Didn't I tell you, Roc?|Did they pull on you frst? What am I doin'?|I'm in it at Lakeview! Lakeview the deli, Roc? - Looks like we got us|a new fuckin' recruit.|- Rocco! - What?|- Where's my cat? I killed your cat,|you druggie bitch. - God. Why?|- What? I felt it would bring|closure to our relationship. - You killed my-my--|- Yourwhat? - My--|- Your fuckin' what? Huh?|Your what, bitch? I'll shoot myself|in the head... if you can tell me|that cat's name! Go ahead! Yourwhat?|Your precious little-- - Skippy. Skippy.|- Oh,Jesus.|What color was it, bitch? Don't you fuckin'|yell at her like that,|you prick! Shutyour fat ass, Rayvie! I can't buy a pack ofsmokes|without runnin' into|nine guys you fucked! - Damn! Son ofa bitch. Let's go! Let's get the fuck|outta here! Those rat fucks! All ofthem|were all laughin' at me, man. - Are you sure you killed them, Roc?|- Fuckin'-A right I did. I had a goddamn|turkey shoot over there. - Anybody call for me?|- No, man.|Are you sure you're okay? I'm fuckin' fne. I'll catch you|on the flip side. I know there's something|happening here I know there's something|happening here Domy eyes deceive mymind I'll bet it was|a fuckin' test. Vincenzo came in here|shootin' his mouth off.|He made sure we knew. But we did what|we were supposed to, huh? We kept our mouths shut. You?|You did your part. Fuck! They know we're good fellas now. We'll get taken care of, baby. What? Did everyone know? Next thing you're gonna tell me|Sal was in on it. Vincenzo told Sal frst.|That fat fuck knew|before we did. At least we got|our funny man back, huh? Here's some more|that you fear - That was funny, wasn't it?|That was real fucking funny!|- No, not me! Not me! Huh? Ha! Funny! Funny! - Funny! Funny! Funny! - Funny!|- Full, full Full, full Full, full - Full|- Listen, Roc, did anybody seeya? Fuck, man, I might as well|have gone around postin' flyers. Right out in public, man. Liberating, isn't it? - Let's fucking go!|- You know, it is a bit. Conner, stop the car!|Stop the fucking car, man! Vincenzo,|that fat motherfucker,|Yakavetta's right hand! He's the one who set me up,|then he went around telling|everybody I was as good as dead. Goes there every Wednesday night|10:00, jerks off on the same|titty dancer. Never misses. - Yeah, so?|- So? So let's kill|the motherfucker! I mean, what are you guys?|That's your new thing, right? - Yeah, well--|- Ah, what the fuck! I mean, who makes the cut?|Is there a raffle or something? To tell you the truth,|those frst ones, they just sort|of fell on to our laps. Well, what do you do? We haven't really got a system|of decidin' who, Roc. It's-- Me! Me! I'm the guy! I know everyone, their habits,|who they hang out with,|who they talk to! I got phone numbers, addresses!|I know who they're fuckin'! I know where they live! We could kill everyone. So what doyou think? I'm strangely comfortable|with it. That's him. - Okay, Roc. What? You guys got masks. You look like Mush Mouth|from Fat Albert. Fine. Fuck it!|When we're done,|she can I.D. me. I don't care. Just trying|to be professional, but no! - It looks fne.|- No, fuck it. No, shut the fuck up!|You look good. Put it on.|You look fucking scary, man. Now, Roc, areyou sure|thatyou're ""O-B-kay-B''? She was in here|when it all went down. - Can she I.D. 'em?|- No. - There were wearin' masks.|- Ofcourse theywere. You scream, you're dead!|Which one's he in? And don't make like|you don't know who the fuck|I'm talkin' about! - Don't you talk to me like that,|you dirty little girl. Oh, yeah. Give it to Daddy. Oh, this is one|sick motherfucker. - How many?|- Three. Two of them did the shootin'. |"...and teeming with souls|shall it ever be. '' Our little theory from last night|just got shot to shit. Something new is going on here. After talking to the dancer, we know their mark|was the guy in the middle booth. After she watches 'em whack him,|she passes out. What the fuck areyou doing? I'll tip her! Why are there two|extra victims? - Witnesses.|- No way they could have seen. Allow me|to enlighten you gentlemen... to the protocol|of the porno industry, as I'm sure you've never been|in one of these places before. A man goes into the booth,|puts the money through the slot, the dancer gets it|on the other side. She hits the button,|the door goes up. Now there's only|glass between you, and|that's ""little freman'' time. No way they could have seen it. Those doors were down,|so that means this: They looked in,|down through the peep holes, saw these guys, opened the doors|from the inside, pop, pop, pop,|right through the glass. Why? - It's like a scumbag yard sale.|- We should come down here|once a week and clean house. Maybe the three guys|had something in common. No, this guy's big-time.|These two are street-walkin' scum. Then that's what they had in|common-- they're all bad guys. Now they're all dead bad guys. Oh, man, you gotta|let me do these guys. I'm such a moron.|I gotta make up|for that tit thing. - There's no way. I've been|waitin' for this asshole.|- Oh, come on. Come on, man.|Give the guy his shot. It's the real deal, Roc.|Evil men, dead men. Good shooting... shitty shooting. Plus... we got us a genuine... Kennedy assassination-style|bullet theory here. Twoguns were used.|Theguyin themiddle... was done with both of'em. Now this guy, he was killed... with bullets|from gun ""A'' only... and this guy, gun ""B'' only. But ballistics dug two slugs|out ofthe wall from ""B''... over here where the victim|was done with ""A.'' Andit's the same thing over here. Why the crossover? That's just fuckin' weird.|I have no idea. Jesus, I just can't think|any more. That scene over at the coffee|shop today just tapped me out. What scene? Some guy went nuts|over of the Com Ave. Shot three guys to death in|a coffee shop, broad daylight,|fled the scene. - Don't have much on him.|- Why wasn't I informed of this? They weren't related.|The guy used a .38. - No pennies, totally amateur.|- Who were the victims? - A couple ofmob peons|and a fat fuck bartender.|- Oh, isn't that beautiful? All the low lifes in quiet city|Boston start droppin' dead,|and you think it's unrelated! Greenly, the day I want|the Boston Police to do|my thinkin' for me, I will have a fucking tag|on my toe! Now get me a squad car|and get me over there! I want crime scene photos|and any witness statements now! Wyatt fuckin' Earp! It looks like we got us|a cowboy. Hmm. "So we shall flow a river forth|to Thee... and teeming with souls|shall it ever be. '' Hey, hey, man.|You guys gotta teach me|that prayer. - That's some good shit, man.|- Cool it, Roc. It's a family prayer. - My father's father before him.|So that's our shit.|- Oh, come on! The victims were found... at a local|adult entertainment parlor. These murders,|coupled with the three suspected|mob-related killings... that occurred|at this local Boston deli|earlier this afternoon, brings the death toll to six,|just today. There is no doubt that all|the victims have been criminals. Perhaps this explains|why a public outcry... to have these crimes stopped|has not been heard. Ah, these two crime scenes|are related. Too many coincidences. Same day, fivehours apart, dead mobsters in both scenes. Now... why did he kill the bartender? Crime of passion.|Just went nuts.|He shot everyone in here. -Just ran out of bullets.|- Does this look like a friggin'|post office to you? This guy came in here|with intent. Maybe he didn't know|exactly what he was gonna do,|but he had a good idea. No, the bar tender|was no fuckin' accident. Well, we didn't need|any help on that. A lot of people saw it.|Nobody's talkin'. Figures. Oh, look. Areyou guys seeing|the pattern here? We got big questions|at both of these crime scenes|with no answers. Why did they kill the guys|in the other two booths? Why did they do the bartender? Fuck! I hate cold crime scenes! I'm fucking leaving now. And do me a favor.|Tell me when the next one does, 'cause these guys|are not done yet. Fuck you. Augustus, I need your help. I have a serious problem.|I am not screwing around here. I need... Il Duce. The Duke? Huh. What did you do? Rocco-- this package boy-- he could bring down|the whole East Coast. Ifhe decides|to turn state's evidence, he could take us apart|brick by brick. But he's happy, now, with just killing us|one by one. And worse, he's good at it. Listen, kid.|I hopeyou understand|who you're dealin' with here. This guy is no slouch. When I was a boy, my papa used to speak of him|like he was a ghost. - Move him. Your father and I used him|three times in 20 years, only when things got|totally fucked. Whenever we needed|one of our own bumped off, we'd call this guy in. He had a thing|for clippin' wise guys. But only one rule No women, no kids. Believe me, kid,|you don't want this guy... unless you are 100% sure|you need him. He's a fuckin' monster.|But only one thing. He's been rottin' in the can|the last 25 or 30 years. Don't even know if he's still|alive or if he's even up to it. There. - Well, there are ways around that.|- Yeah. Go find one. All right.|Let's talk some business here. I know a sick fuck|makes the ones we been doin'|look like altar boys. Worst night of my life|when I met this guy. The guy never says|a fuckin' word to me. We're drivin' 25 minutes, never a sigh,|no throat clearing, nothing. Yeah, you're always making great|fuckin' sense, you dumb bitch. - I don't care. His face--blank, man.|Just nothin' there. This guy takes out|a whole family-- wife, kids, everyone--like|he's ordering a fucking pizza. This house is clean. I knew if I didn't keep it|together, it was my ass. He has a poker game|outback of his place... with a bunch of wise guys|every Saturday. Worst day of my life, man. Well, I'm sold. Don't worry, Roc. We'll do this guy right,|and you'll feel a lot better. Okay. Here's what happened. They waited in a parked car down|the street for the kid to leave. There he goes. They came in through the garage. The kid says he leaves it open|when he takes his bike out. Now they know|the wife is the gatekeeper.|She knows the code. - Hit the numbers, lady.|Hit the numbers. - I will kill you! I will kill you!|- Don't! Her hands are tied. Why do I always gotta be|on bitch detail? The wife says|she doesn't know what happened|after she hit the code. She just remembers going down,|but judging from the burn mark|on her back, I thinkwhat they did|was use a stun gun on her. Now this guy knows|that his friend is coming|to the game, and they know that this door can|only be opened from the inside. So they wait.|And when that door opens, man... nobody's ready for it. Panic, devastation. This was like shootin' fish|in a friggin' barrel. All of'em. Now these guys dove|under the table. The trajectory|on the bullet showed that|they came from straight across. So that means one of our|shooters dropped to his knees. -Something went wrong right here.|-Shit! Shit! He ain't here! Oh, what the fuck you mean,|he isn't here? - I mean he ain't here!|- Look again, for fuck's sake! I know what the fuck|he looks like! Look behind ya! Ah! Son of a-- Oh, shit! - Shoot this motherfucker! No!|Fucking let the bloke go! - Let him go!|- Fuck! Jesus! - Now's your chance|to earn your stripes, Roc!|- He'll fucking get killed! It was your idea|to bring him in! One of these guys|is a real sicko. He knew this man.|He wanted him to suffer. Allright, Roc.|Now's your chance! - You take that man!|- I don't wanna die! Sick fuck! Sick fuck! Sick fuck! - All right then.|- Fuckyou, fuckin'-- Now take a fuckin' deep breath|there, Roc. You did fne. It was nicely done. They exited out the front door. They had no idea|what they were in for. Now they're starin'|at six men with guns drawn. It was a fuckin' ambush. This was a fuckin' bomb... droppin' on Beaver Cleaverville. Fora few seconds,|this place was Armageddon. There was a frefght! - You son ofa bitch! Murph, areyou all right? Motherfucker! - Roc, get the fucking bag!|- Fuckin' shit! Christ! - Get the blood! Get the blood!|- What the fuck was that? - He shot my fucking fnger off!.|- Roc, what the fuck?|Get the fuck out of here! - Motherfucker!|- Fucking shit! - Get the fucking bag!|- My fucking finger! Fucking shit! What if it was just one guy|with six guns? Why don't you let me do|the thinking, huh, genius? Hey, what's taking so long|with those blood samples? I can't get a good sample. Oh! There's a variable here|I'm not seeing. They used ammonia. None of this is any good.|Fuck! You know what that means?|Even if we get suspects in the case, we got nothin',|nothin', nothin'! Fuck!|Who the fuck are they? I've never seen|any fucking thing like this|in my fucking life! Who the fuck are they? Who the fuck washe, Rocco?|I know you fucking know,|so don't even start. Fuck you! I told you|I never saw him before! Well, he sure as fuck knewyou! Fuck you! Fuck you both! - Yeah? Don't start lying to us now! We're fuckin'|three amateurs here! I'm confdent that|their investigation will end... in theapprehension|ofthesuspects. - Fuckin' hell.|- What? What, that guy? That's the guy|that got us off the hook|with the Checkov thing. - And he's one smart man.|- They got nothin'. Well, this guy is very sharp.|Ifhe hasn't figured us out yet,|he will. - You bet your ass he will.|- Well, I'd say that makes him|a lia-fuckin'-bility. - He isn't to be touched.|- He's a good man. Okay, whatever. No, that's all wrong.|David Della-- I missed it. Paul, you've already had quite a bit.|Are you sure you wanna-- -Just pour the drink,|you fairy fuck. Whew! I smell you. Hey, Murph. This early mornin'|church shit's gotta go. We have to go in the mornin'.|We're on the lam now, you know. Hey. You're gonna do what I say,|got it? - Yes.|- I'm sorry you're gonna|have to see this. - Don't look at me.|- I didn't see any-- Shut up.|Shut the fuck up. Don't do this, my son. Have you no fear of God? That's who I'm doin' this for.|Now open the fuckin' thing,|Father. Father,|I'll do you right here. God have mercy on my soul. You little fuck, let him go or|I'll drop you right fuckin' now. Okay,just calm down.|He could hurt us, brother. - He could ruin the whole thing.|- You let him go... or I will deliver you|right fucking here! You won't do it.|You won't, Conner.|You love me, man. - I swear to fuckin'--|- Hello. You there? Y-Yes, my son. Do your thing, Father.|Don't fuck this up. - How long since your last confession?|- Christ. I've never confessed. I come here for advice, not ""slalvation.'' Why have you come|to a church for counsel|if you're not religious? It's ethics. I put evil men behind bars, but the law has miles|of red tape and loop holes... for these cocksuckers|to slip through. Ifound... out|there are these two guys... who fix the situation|withaniron fist... as ifthey had God's permission. God's permission?|God doesn't grant-- In this day and age, I believe what they do|is necessary. I feel it is correct. A soul|is what gives us feelings. It's like a conduit... through which|the Lord speaks to us. You felt your answers|would be here... in the house|of the Lord today. And you feel...|these men are necessary. So the Lord has spoken to you|twice today. Has He now? You are the one who came|into this church speaking|about beliefs and feelings. Is it so hard to believe|that God has brought you here? I guess not. It's very easy|to be sarcastic about religion. But it's much more difficult... to take a stand. I wanna stand|for what I believe in, Father. Firstyouhave toknow|what your beliefs are. I believe that these young men|are right. - You know them personally?|- Yes. Would they ever harm an innocent|person, for any reason? No. They would never do that. Well, the two|Irish guys wouldn't. The Italian guy, he might.|He's kind of an idiot. I'm beginning to see. All the things|I wish I could do, these guys are doing. W-W-What should I do? Because I am a man... who's supposed|to uphold the law. The laws of God...|are higher... than the laws... ofman. Yes, I-I was thinking that too.|No, no. I was feeling it. All I needed|was to hear you say it. Amen. I will help them. - Forgive me, Father.|- Thank you, Father. Whatever. Amen. Good-bye. Now listen.|Um, "dominus ominus, ''you know. And remember, you're bound.|You can't talk to anyone|about this. No one. -Just get out of the church.|- Okay. Just get out of the church! The Lord works|in mysterious ways. What the fuck's|that supposed to mean? - That's all you can give me?|- The light hit the side|ofhis face. Looked like he had a gray beard.|Maybe late '50s, early '60s. So you're telling me|it was one guy with six guns, and he was|a senior freakin' citizen? Yeah, and it's better|ifwe fnd this man|before he finds us again. I'll see what I can do.|How do I get in touch with you? We'll hit Pappa Joe tonight,|right in the comfort|of his own home. We're gonna move on to New York.|It's just-- - It's getting a bit hot for us here.|- Be careful. All right.|Call you tonight, afterwards. - It feels like it's still there.|- Yeah, but it's not. I don't know who he is.|Nobody does. The Duke'sa fuckin' Houdini.|He does a disappearin' act. What did he bring him in for? Well, he needs an outsider.|This Rocco kid is smart. He knows everyone.|He'd spot our hitters|a mile away. Just for him-- the package boy? He's the one shootin' up|all his guys, right?|He's scared of the kid. - Said he's good. He's got|every gun in the city up there.|- Up where? Up at his house.|I don't know what's going on, but I know it's gotta have|something to do with this kid. Oh, fuck! We got 'em.|They tried to get in|through the basement. - How many?|- Three. Where you goin; huh?|Where the fuck you goin; huh? I'm fuckin' talkin' toyou,|motherfucker! - Fuckyou!|- Shut up! Shh! Shh.|Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh. - Shh. Sit up. You have some answers|for me, no? Yeah. Fuck you. Roc! Roc, look at me! - Roc! Shit! - Roc! - Roc! Roc, you'll be fine! - Roc! Okay.|What do you boys think? - These guys are tough.|- Fuckin'-A, right. - Ain't no fuckin' way|they're gonna talk.|- I know Rocco. He ain't smart enough|for this shit. Those other|guys are the brains. - He's just a player.|- He's a punk. There's only one thing to do. God! No! - Roc! Roc! No! Roc! Roc! - No! No! Roc! Roc! You can't stop!|You get out of here.|Don't ever stop. Roc! No! No! Roc! - You motherfucker! Yeah!|I'm gonna kill them! - Hey, boss.|- Yeah, Chappy? I don't mean no disrespect,|but I think we're forgettin'|something here. This Il Duce's a fuckin' animal.|He's gonna stop|when someone dies. I guarantee you right now,|he thinks this thing is on. - What? If this guy still thinks|the job is on, motherfucker is in the bushes|right now. I am going.|You four... stay here... and deal with it. Do it! -Just one fuckin' guy.|- Fuck you, Geno. - What's the big fuckin' deal?|- Do it! I'm going back downstairs|and workin' on these pricks. - What the fuck? Hey. Joey Bevo sent me over... as entertainment. Sorry, baby. Tonight|ain't the night for this shit. It's really hittin'|the fan in there,|you know what I'm sayin'? Fuckin' Bevo's great, man.|He's always sendin' us|primo box. All right. Let's go. |
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A Hard Dayss Night Beatles The First US Visit The Beau Pere - Stepfather - Bertrand Blier 1981 Beautiful Creatures Beautiful Girls Beautiful Thing Beautiful Troublemaker The (1991) CD1 Beautiful Troublemaker The (1991) CD2 Beautiful Troublemaker The (1991) CD3 Beautifull Mind A CD1 Beautifull Mind A CD2 Beauty And The Beast Beauty and the Beast (Disney Special Platinum Edition) Beavis and Butt-head Do America (1996) Bedazzled Bedford Incident The Bedroom Key The CD1 Bedroom Key The CD2 Beethoven Before Night Falls 2000 CD1 Before Night Falls 2000 CD2 Before Sunrise Before Sunset 2004 Beguiled The Behind Enemy Lines 2001 Behind The Sun (Walter Salles 2001) Being John Malkovich Being There (1979) CD1 Being There (1979) CD2 Belle Epoque CD1 Belle Epoque CD2 Belle and La Bete La (1946) Bellinin And The Spynx CD1 Bellinin And The Spynx CD2 Bells Of St Marys The (1945) Belly Of The Beast Belly of an Architect The Below Belphegor Ben-Hur CD1 Ben-Hur CD2 Bend It Like Beckham Bend of the River 1952 Beneath the Planet of the Apes Benny and Joon Bernie Best years of our lives 1946 Bet on My Disco Better Off Dead 1985 Better Than Chocolate Better Tomorrow 2 A CD1 Better Tomorrow 2 A CD2 Better Tomorrow 3 A Better Way To Die A Betty Between Heaven and Hell Beverly Hillbillies The 1993 Beverly Hills Ninja Beyond Borders CD1 Beyond Borders CD2 Beyond The Beyond The Clouds Bez konca (No End 1985) CD1 Bez konca (No End 1985) CD2 Biches Les (Claude Chabrol 1968) Bicho de sete cabezas Bichunmoo CD1 Bichunmoo CD2 Big Big Blue The CD1 Big Blue The CD2 Big Bounce The Big Chill The Big Daddy Big Deal on Madonna Street (1958) Big Fat Liar Big Fish 2003 Big Hit The Big Lebowski The Big Mommas House Big Nihgt Big Shot - A Confessions of a Campus Bookie 2002 Big Sleep The Big clock The 1948 Big girls dont cry Biker boyz Billy Elliot Billy Madison 1995 Biloxi blues Bingwoo 2004 CD1 Bingwoo 2004 CD2 Bio Dome Bio Hunter Bio Zombie Bionicle 2 A Legends of Metru-Nui Bionicle Mask Of Light 2003 Birch Tree Meadow The Bird People in China The 1998 CD1 Bird People in China The 1998 CD2 Bird on a wire Bishops Wife The 1947 CD1 Bishops Wife The 1947 CD2 Bite the bullet Bitter Sugar (Azucar amarga) Black Angel Black Sabbath BlackAdder 1x1 - The Foretelling BlackAdder 1x2 - Born to be King BlackAdder 1x3 - The Archbishop BlackAdder 1x4 - The Queen of Spains Beard BlackAdder 1x5 - Witchsmeller Pursuivant BlackAdder 1x6 - The Black Seal BlackAdder 2x1 - Bells BlackAdder 2x2 - Head BlackAdder 2x3 - Potato BlackAdder 2x4 - Money BlackAdder 2x5 - Beer BlackAdder 2x6 - Chains BlackAdder 4x1 - Captain Cook BlackAdder 4x2 - Corporal Punishment BlackAdder 4x3 - Major Star BlackAdder 4x4 - Private Plane BlackAdder 4x5 - General Hospital BlackAdder 4x6 - 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Baseball Bugs (1946) Bugs Bunny - Big Top Bunny (1951) Bugs Bunny - Bugs Bunny Gets the Boid (1942) Bugs Bunny - Bugs Bunny and the Three Bears (1944) Bugs Bunny - Bugs and Thugs (1954) Bugs Bunny - Bully for Bugs (1953) Bugs Bunny - Frigid Hare (1949) Bugs Bunny - Hair-Raising Hare (1946) Bugs Bunny - Haredevil Hare (1948) Bugs Bunny - Long Haired Hare (1949) Bugs Bunny - My Bunny Lies Over the Sea (1948) Bugs Bunny - Rabbits Kin (1952) Bugs Bunny - Tortoise Wins by a Hare (1943) Bugs Bunny - Wabbit Twouble (1941) Bugs Bunny - Water Water Every Hare (1952) Bugs Bunny - Whats Up Doc (1950) Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck - Rabbit Fire (1951) Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck - Rabbit Seasoning (1952) Bugs Bunny and Elmer - Rabbit of Seville (1950) Bugs Bunny and Taz - Devil May Hare (1954) Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam - Ballot Box Bunny (1951) Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam - Big House Bunny (1950) Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam - Bunker Hill Bunny (1950) Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam - High Diving Hare (1949) Bugs Life A Bullet Ballet Bullet in the Head Bulletproof Monk 2003 Bullets Over Broadway Bully (Unrated Theatrical Edition) Burning Paradise (Ringo Lam 1994) Burnt Money Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid A Special Edition Butchers Wife The |