Deadwood · Season 1
If I'm stooped when next you see me, Alma, it won't be worry weighing me down, but bags of our recovered gold.
If you wish to see more of the West let's leave now and see it, or else return back to New York. I don't think we should linger here.
Every fuckin' beatin' I'm grateful for. Every fuckin' one of them. Get all the trust beat outta you. And you know what the fuckin' world is.
[on prospecting] What slows me down is thinking about freezing my balls off in a creek for the cocksuckers I'd lose the gold to at poker.
How about a nap, a bath and sex with a unfamiliar woman?
Some goddamn point a man's due to stop arguing with hisself and feeling twice the goddamn fool he knows he is 'cause he can't be something he tries to be every goddamn day without once getting to dinnertime and fucking it up. I don't want to fight it no more, understand me Charlie? -- and I don't need you pissing in my ear about it. Will you let me go to hell the way I want to?
Yeah. I can do that.
Her husband came here with childish ideas. Bought himself a gold claim with me an honest broker. Claim pinches out, which will happen. But he can't take that like a man, has to blame somebody. Seller's left camp, so he picks on me. Says he'll bring in the Pinkertons if I don't offer restitution. I got a healthy operation and I didn't build it brooding on the right, and wrong of things. I do not need the Pinkertons descending like locusts. So I bend over for the tenderfoot cocksucker. Reconnoiter your claim fully, I say. And then, if you're still unhappy, I will give you your fucking money back. And the tenderfoot agrees. Just as he's finishing his reconnoiter, cocksucker falls to his death, pure fucking accident. But up jumps the widow in righteous fucking indignation. Wants the doctor to examine him for murder wounds. My visions of locusts return. I see Pinkertons coming in swarms.
You know the sound of thunder, don't you, Mrs. Garrett?
Of course.
Can you imagine that sound if I asked you to?
Yes I can, Mr. Hickok.
' Your husband and me had this talk, and I told him to head home to avoid a dark result. But I didn't say it in thunder. Ma'am, listen to the thunder.
I don't know if this is the time for you to stop takin' this laudanum, Mrs. Garrett.
What a pleasant surprise, doctor. To hear you admit the limits of your knowledge.
Let me say this once in your hearing. For outright stupidity, the whole fuckin' trial concept goes shoulder to shoulder with that cocksucker Custer's thinkin' when he headed for that ridge.
It's got its disadvantages.
We're illegal. Our whole goal is to get annexed to the United fuckin' States. We start holdin' trials, what's to keep the United States fuckin' Congress from sayin' "Oh, excuse us, we didn't realize you were a fuckin' sovereign community and nation out there. Where's your cocksucker's flag? Where's your fuckin' navy or the like? Maybe when we make our treaty with the Sioux, we should treat you people like renegade fuckin' Indians. Deny your fuckin' gold and property claims. And hand everything over instead to our ne'er-do-well cousins and brothers-in-law."
That we don't want.
Before a guilty verdict would get executed on that cocksucker, three men would walk in that meat locker where he's bein' held with bags over their heads and cut his fuckin' throat. And within half an hour, that celestial's little pigs will be on their backs with their hooves in the air, belching up human remains.
Are you saying you'd order that to be done?
I'm sayin' I had a vision it'd happen. My second of the day. First come when I was watchin' you and them lawyers on line this morning. They began to slither in my sight like vipers. So as not to puke, I had to close my eyes. The vision went on. Got worse. I saw the vipers in the big nest in Washington. They were takin' us in the camp for actin' like we could set out own laws up or organizations and then saw the big viper decide to strangle and swallow us up every fuckin' thing we gain here. It was horrible. How could we fuckin' avoid it? How could we let the vipers in the big nest know that we didn't wanna cause any fuckin' trouble?
And that's when you had your second vision.
Yeah, the cut throats and the pigs. But who wants all that blood spilled, judge, huh? Isn't there a simpler way of not pissing off the big vipers?
Sometimes I wish we could just hit 'em over the head, rob 'em, and throw their bodies in the creek.
But that would be wrong.
What's he ever done for me? Except let him terrify me every goddamned day of his life 'til the idea of bowel regularity is a forlorn fuckin' hope.
That man is a lunatic. High water he never made much sense, but now? He just utters pure gibberish.
Did he look pale to you?
What?
Did he seem pale?
How the fuck do I know if he was pale?
Ah, he looked pale to me.
What if he was? Let's say he was. Will you shut up about it? What is my part, and your part? *mocking* "What part of my part is your part? Is my foot your knee? What about your ear?" What the fuck is that?
Remember this when you run your own place: that type guy, hanging around, gets people agitated, forces 'em to take a position, one side or the other. And agitation brings a slight bump-up in whiskey sales but the sale of cunt plummets. That's why I often wonder if I should take that fucking picture of Lincoln down.
That man is a lunatic. High water he never made much sense, but now? He just utters pure gibberish.
Did he look pale to you?
What?
Did he seem pale?
How the fuck do I know if he was pale?
He looked pale to me.
What if he was? Let's say he was. Will you shut up about it? What is my part, and your part? [mocking] "What part of my part is your part? Is my foot your knee? What about your ear?" What the fuck is that?
Yeah, I don't know.
What don't you know? If he was pale or not?
What you're supposed to do.
I'm not supposed to do anything! Let's agree to that. Not one fucking thing that I don't decide I'm gonna. All right, Sol?
All right. [Bullock begins to walk away] Suspenders.
God damn it! If I kill the droop-eyed son of a bitch and my part's getting hanged for it, good luck with the fucking store.
All right.
I will write to Martha and see it posted. You look out after that widow.
All right, Seth.
Can I impose on you to pack a bag for me to cut down on the cocksucker's head start?
Be ready for you when you ride out.
Thanks, Sol.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Deadwood pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.
