Her name was Elizabeth Gray. She was my Aunt Polly. My Aunt Polly.
SCaptain Swing
Vengeance is for the Lord--. (Arthur shoots her).
Not in Small Heath, it ain't. Rest in peace, Pol.
“Unfinished Business” · Season 1, Episode 15
In this episode: Dean Winchester (940), Damon Salvatore (715), Sam Winchester (665), Olivia Benson (637), Stephen Fry (608), Narrator (554), Clark Kent (523), Nate (486)
Speak to me. Speak to me, Michael
MGMichael Gray
You killed her.
Polly made her own choices, Michael.
MGMichael Gray
No. No one close to you makes a choice without your opinion, Tom. Not Arthur, not me, not Ada. We can't escape you. Your lethal hand is always on our shoulders.
Polly was half of me. Still visits me in my dreams. She'll visit me no more. (Tommy shoots Michael).
ASAlfie Solomons
I smell the smell of roasting Irishmen. Oh yes, hello. I also smell the smell of tobacco. Which is forbidden in my presence for all except for one, my new wife, Edna. The Irish being rendered smoke and fat, I now own half of Boston. So, out of respect for my restored authority, put the fucking cigarette out now, Tommy.
Hello, Alfie. I heard it was a good wedding.
ASAlfie Solomons
Ya, it was actually. Thank you. Edna's from a family circus. So, after the ketubah and the old swapping of rings, and the smashing of glass, we left aboard elephants. Yeah. It was quite a thing. They had to shut down Camden High Street, and even the gentile, what normally fucking hate me, they waved with their hankies. Justice. And housekeeping. Long overdue. Yeah, look at that little cunt ascending, he is ascending to the heavens. Right in front of us. Before our very eyes. And I can see with this eye. I'm not blind. This eye is the eye of a dead man. Dead men can through life like it was a curtain that billows with the flicker of truth upon it. And I can see with this eye, Tommy, that your nephew is ascending and he will be forgiven. Unlike you, who, on judgment day, is probably truly fucked when the other shoe drops. Hmm? You all right, Tommy? How you keeping?
You know, Alfie, so many people, so many times, going to so much trouble to kill me. I'm fucking dying anyway.
ASAlfie Solomons
Well, we're all dying anyway.
No. Not a bullet, not a bomb, not a knife.
ASAlfie Solomons
It is clap? Is it clap?
No. Not even that noble
ASAlfie Solomons
What are you trying to say? I'm about to sign over half of fucking Camden Town to you, as part of the deal, and you're saying you're going to die in your bed?
I'm not going to die in bed, Alfie. Who fucking dies in bed?
ASAlfie Solomons
Good people die in their bed, Tommy. Good people.
Good people, eh?
ASAlfie Solomons
Mmm.
Good people. And yet here we are, Alfie. After all this time, just you and me. And I crossed the line. Michael... Polly... Ruby...
ASAlfie Solomons
Tommy, if you are about to express profound emotion, you might be better served expressing it to someone who gives a fuck. Or perhaps to somebody who is being paid to pretend to have to. Like a fucking nurse or a priest. Someone. And, as for death, speaking as someone who has been dead for a number of years, I can only heartily recommend it.
Well, Alfie, your opera is complete. Shall we go and witness the final act?
In the bleak, midwinter.
The eleventh hour. Armistice. Peace at last. Peace at last.
All of us dead. Except for the one who wants to be dead. I should’ve come back when you told me to, Ada. I confess to you sister. I killed our brother, Arthur. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t an act of mercy. I killed him because I was full of booze and rage. And I had a moment when I could have spared him. I killed me own brother. ‘Cause I wanted to be free of him. I promise you sister. I promise, Arthur. I promise, Ruby. From this bad will come some good.
Give my car to Johnny Dogs. My wine to the Garrison Pub. My horses to someone who’s no work for them. My bullets to someone who’s no names to write on them. And my guns to someone who has no use for them. Once. I nearly I got fucking everything. But nearly doesn’t count. But throughout it all, I had me family. We are reunited now. In whichever place will have us. Burn my body. Let the ash blow. I am free.
Why? Why did I sign my name? I was too bold. Those poems weren't meant to be seen until I am dead and buried and worms have consumed my flesh. Arnold must never see that last page!
[referring to Arnold's room] I'm in his room, the place I have often visited in my dreams.
Oh my gosh, what is that shampoo?
So far, we know our suspect is female, lives in the tri-state area, and is somewhere between the ages of eight... and eighty-seven.
[sarcastically] Oh, we're doing good...
First spitball of the day, Football Head.
Looking like a field trip, ha, Arnold?
Huh? Oh, are we in the Aquarium yet?
Not yet.
[Harold hits Eugene with a spitball]
Well, we better get there soon, everybody's getting kind of restless.
Awesome.
Look, I'm a whale. [drinks a sip of milk and spits it out through his nose]
GGuard
[taunting the animals at the aquarium] Here, have a cookie. Ha-ha, you tossed your cookies!
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