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Wow, I can't believe this weather, it's just miserable.

Top shelf.

Yeah, but I'm not sure this is any better.

Thanks.

Bet you Wilson's place is worse than this place.

You guys staying at Wilson's place?

No.

Well, he's married the boss's daughter.

I hope he does.

She does have a little extra padding.

What a dump.

Okay, so getting back to Wilson.

The very day of the closing.

Wilson, check the current number on the Anderson account.

Don't use the current numbers,

use the projected numbers I supplied.

You know, I brought him into this deal.

I said to make

a quarter-of-a-mill on this one.

A couple more sales like this and I can write my own ticket.

Just pad numbers and the Andersons pick up

the rest of the cost.

Okay, so you know what he says to me?

He says, "But, that's not honest!"

Iay hey, I'm not in business to be honest.

I'm in business to make money.

What a dink!

Okay, so after all my reworking the numbers,

make sure to use the numbers that I gave you, Wilson.

But no, Wilson's got it all figured out.

So what happened?

The numbers are dropped.

Wilson didn't recalculate my adjustment

and instead of making my four-quarter-a-mill,

I ended up walking away with half of that.

Oh man.

Well, what does he care?

He's the boss's son-in-law, he doesn't have to worry.

The family's worth a fortune.

What a dink.

- What a day. - What a day.

Right.

Sometimes I can't believe how these idiots get in

these positions with authority, you know?

But he's honest.

Yeah.

What did the old man say?

What could he say?

The holidays are coming up.

You can't show up to Thanksgiving dinner

with bad blood between he and Wilson.

What will his precious little girl say?

He's content to have me keep the holiday peace

in this house and all it cost me was 1/8th

of $1 million.

With a handicap like him,

you won't retire until you're well over 50.

Well, it affects you too.

I know!

Because of Wilson, I barely cleared half-a-mill last year

and with the economy the way it is and having

to interact with people like him,

it's no wonder we can make a living at all.

- Dink! - Dink!

It's too late.

It's too late.

No, it's wrong.

She's here for you.

You, she's here for you.

I don't know what I'm complaining about.

I don't want to have that money anyway,

not with the way the wife spend it.

Yeah?

The other day I came home and she had all new drapes

made for the entire house.

Didn't she just have that done a couple years ago?

Yeah, but she has a new friend who is

an interior designer.

They met at the club and they go out on Thursdays,

girls' afternoon tea.

They go out for tea?

No!

Well, I don't know, I just said that.

Who knows what they do?

Think of ways to spend my money, no doubt.

I say to her, you had two professional career choices

in life, marry a rich man or go on Welfare.

Either way, it's a free ride.

And then the son comes home with a pink mohawk.

Wonderful.

Pink mohawk?

Yeah.

He's in a band, he's expressing himself.

I don't understand that boy.

He never listens to me.

Last Saturday, I had a 6:00 a.m. tee off time,

so I get up, shower, dress,

and as I'm walking out the door, I mean literally,

walking out the door, my wife says to me,

"Are you going to make it back in time for the party?"

The party, what party?

Dakota's 10th grade graduation ceremony.

We've been talking about it for the last two weeks.

What are you going to do?

So what did you do?

I had to cancel with Robertson.

Your chance to play Fairview?

Yes!

Oh, man.

I'd kill to play that course.

How'd you find a replacement on short notice?

I spent the next hour on the phone.

I finally found the only person we know

that did not have the game schedule.

- Who? - Guess?

Oh no, not?

That's right,

- Wilson! - Wilson!

So I'm sitting at the ceremony

and they're rattling off the subjects and clubs

he is in and the entire time I'm thinking to myself,

what are they teaching these kids these days?

Jeez!

Not like our day.

You can say that again.

And my wife is complaining the entire time

because our trip to Cancun is postponed one week.

Huh, what's that?

It's because of the new BMW and the leather

- interior takes a week. - Sweet.

And she can't wait!

Nag, nag, nag.

I've been looking at that new Z4.

I'll pick one up in the spring when the weather breaks.

I like the new Z4.

You gonna watch your dad drive it?

That'll be the day.

It'll end up like the Lexus.

How's that?

I didn't tell you that one?

No.

Oh, you know, he's retired.

67, 68, or something.

You know, late 60s.

Okay, so last year, Super Bowl Sunday,

remember that big snowstorm we had?

- Yeah. - Well, I had to watch

the super bowl, so I said,

"Look, I have this new

, right?

Stereo sound and new with keg and taps.

Eric and his wife, his new wife, actually,

Jessica were gonna come over and watch the game.

You should see Jessica.

Whoa!

Whatever happened to his first wife?

Remember, she got that skin disease.

Well yeah, I remember now.

Right after that Christmas party, he filed for divorce.

Yes.

Eric and his wife were standing at the punch bowl

when the boss's wife said, "Don't let anything fall in!"

Did she think it was going to fall in or something?

It was ugly.

What, the situation?

No, his wife's face.

But anyway, his new wife is the knockout.

Now where was I?.

Oh, oh, oh, so I tell my dad, "Come over if you want."

you know, I'll stick him in the car or someplace

or anything, put him in charge of taking peoples' coats

when they arrive.

So anyway,

there's a snowstorm and he's driving my Lexus.

Wouldn't you know, he doesn't show.

Well, okay by me, but right after two minute warning,

two minutes left in the game, I get a phone call. From whom?

- The state police. - The state police?

Oh!

Is this Mister?

Yes, it is.

Is your father named?

Yes, it is.

Well, he's been involved in an accident.

Oh, man!

Two minutes left in the super bowl!

What happened?

He totaled the car, went into a ditch

and broke his leg.

Total the Lexus.

Oh, man!

He kept trying to call me, but I had my phone turned off

because of the super bowl!

I mean, I think they called fire and rescue.

He calls me.

So to answer your question, no,

my father is not going to be driving my new Z4.

And with a broken leg,

I had to hire someone to go to the grocery store

and take care of him.

Why can't Sheryl do that?

She's too busy with her charities.

You know, I've been driving Route 13 for about

10 years now, and I've never seen this place before.

What a dump.

Wonder if this is the place where all those

gangster murders took place?

Wasn't that called Murphys?

No, that was, um,

the Bavarian house on Route 60.

On 16?

Yeah, just past the Dead Man's Curve,

over the old Benson Bridge.

No, that place was built after

all these murders took place.

These murders took place in the late 1920s, early 1930s.

The Bavarian house was built in the '40s during the war.

Which war?

The first, no, second World War.

What?, what murders?

Huh, well, I guess there's this guy

that was looking to challenge

the head gimbo,

was looking to take over the operations.

The story goes that this upstart in this family

were having a big dinner at some roadhouse.

Well, the big gimbo and his boys come in

and machine gunned the whole lot, everyone!

Even the other customers and the staff.

I thought it burnt down shortly after.

He deserved it for bringing to a dump like this.

They are the real guys to look at, gangsters.

They're the real free capitalists.

No regulations, no taxes, do what you want

when you want to.

You know, we should fly out

and play Pebble Beach this weekend.

Can't, Cancun!

Yeah.

I can't believe the idiots I have to put up with

- just to make a living. - I know.

You said it, man.

What a crappy day.

If I'm not strangled with regulations?

It's dinks like Wilson dropping the ball

and costing me money.

One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

If there's anybody who deserves this drink, it's me.

You need a drink?

You got it bad!

You two don't know how good you got it.

You don't know what bad times are.

Or bad luck for that matter..

A couple of real hard-luck cases.

You don't know what bad times are.

Here, boys.

The next one's on me!

Probably the first break your head all day,

or all your life.

Hey buddy, we're not interested.

Interested, you're not interested?

You two aren't interested in anybody but yourselves.

And that will be your doom.

Your wives,

your father, your son,

your family, what grand burdens you two

have been settled with.

You can't talk to him like that.

Do you have any idea what we're worth?

Worth?

Yeah.

I have a pretty good idea

of what you two are worth.

What makes you think you know so much?

I'm the original hard luck case.

I'm Murphy.

Murphy's Law.

Oh, you know?

Murphy's Law.

Murphy's Law!

Whatever can go wrong will go wrong!

My entire life has been strewn with bad luck.

I walk before the reaper,

debasing the dead and the live,

sowing seeds that will quench the thirst

of her long, bloody scythe.

What's that?

Oh, that's Zalambur.

Frederick Zalambur.

He was a 13th century poet.

I thought you two boys said you were worth something?

And you never read any poetry as Zalambur?

Okay, old man.

You seem to know so much.

Tell us your story, tell us about your hard luck.

Yeah, tell us your story.

Let us know what is and what isn't.

What is and what isn't.

Tell us about the dark world.

Yeah, dark world.

And you'll drink for a month!

Well,

it's a rather lengthy tale.

I don't think we're going anywhere real soon.

My father was a wizard on Wall Street.

My father was a wizard on Wall Street.

My father was a wizard on Wall Street.

My mother, an angel.

I wanted for nothing and I was to attend

only the best schools,

but then came the crash.

Like many others, we lost everything.

As you might imagine,

father didn't take things well.

Soon, mother and I were out on the street.

She found work scrubbing floors in a manufacturing building.

They let us live in a supply closet under the stairs,

but that didn't last long.

On my 10th birthday, she saved enough pennies

to get me a cake.

Happy birthday, Murphy!

Even that didn't go well.

I barely got out,

but mother, well, I only pray

that she didn't suffer.

You see, boys, that's the kind of hard luck

that follows me.

A 10-year-old-boy attempts to blow out the candles

on this birthday cake

and ends up blowing up four city blocks.

For you see, the manufacturing facility where we resided

was a dynamite factory.

Why would they have a dynamite factory

in the middle of a city?

Well, government regulations weren't quite

so strict in the old days.

- Government regulation? - Government regulations?

So there I was, no mother, no father, no home.

All alone in the world.

Depressed, dejected, and wondering

what was to become of me.

I was picked up by the authorities and placed

at Madame Babushka's Home for Hapless Tykes.

It should have been named Madame Babushka's Home

for Free Labor.

The place was run by an old bat by the name of Babushka,

Madame Babushka.

She had immigrated from Yugochechnya

after the revolution and started the orphanage.

She was always on my back.

Murphy, clean the floor!

Murphy, clean the toilets!

But I probably should have been thankful.

A roof over my head.

Three squares a day.

And the adoption process was a crapshoot.

Some kids were adopted by good families

and some weren't as fortunate.

The only good thing I found at that place

was a book, the writings of Frederick Zalambur.

That's where I started my real education.

Any time I had a free minute, I would read Zalambur.

With regards to the theoretical proposal

of the pliability of reality as it pertains

to the manipulation of reality on others,

we must first consider and categorize our stages

leading up to and the subjects envelopment

the final stage or the catharsis,

chapter two, the perception of death.

The perception of death to the subject

is and will be key to the motivation of chapter.

Will understand new,

observation or capacity for the and environment.

Take into account the subject's unfamiliar knowledge

and emotional disconnected attributes.

Chapter 13, the catharsis.

The final and most critical phase

is the triggering of the catharsis. Having conditioned

the subject, the catharsis can be triggered

with a sudden or aptly loud noise,

a sentimental image, or such intrinsic aspects as music.

The process of releasing and thereby,

providing a relief from stronger repressed emotions

is only obtained if the subject

has been properly conditioned for such release.

Who's Zalambur?

Didn't I already tell you boys that?

He was a 13th century writer, poet, and philosopher.

He was a man of enlightenment and

courage, and intellect.

A man removed from history prematurely.

Oh yeah!

What happened to him?

Well, the truth is not always

what is desired by the powers that be.

Education and enlightenment are two different things.

Gobles, and Stalin, and Mickey Myshka

educated the people,

but he didn't enlighten them.

The last thing a despot wants

is an enlightened population.

You can't control an enlightened population.

So what happened to him?

The prince of the region silenced his voice.

How did he do that?

Et praeciderunt caput.

Sie schnitten ihm den Kopf

Hanno tagliato la testa.

They cut his head off.

Oh!

Oh.

Oh.

It's a funny thing,

how men who lived 600 years ago

could comfort a child long after his death.

We never know how our actions affect others,

even long after we are dead.

But when I wasn't reading Zalambur, I was peeling potatoes.

Potatoes?

- Potatoes? - Potatoes?

Yeah, potatoes.

Babushka was a bootlegger.

She had a still in the attic of the orphanage.

She made the children work with her unholy endeavor.

Now that's what I meant by free labor.

I had to peel the potatoes and the girls

carried them up to the attic and once again,

a stormy night like this one

brought the phantom of bad luck to my side.

Two little coffins for two little girls.

How sad.

Of course, Madam Babushka was right next to

the still when it blew up, so her coffin

was a little bit smaller.

So I grew up in even the relative comfort

of the orphanage past.

I knocked around for a little while

without any prospects.

No family.

Wealth.

No Ivy League education,

and no future.

But then I caught a break!

Industrialization and old European imperialism

begat one another and gave birth to war.

I was finally going to free myself

from this string of bad luck,

to start anew with grand resolve, strength, and aplomb.

Now contrary to popular belief,

a military endeavor does not always unwind

without what Von Clauswitz referred to as friction.

Oh!

Yes, Von Clauselwts.

Yeah, Von Clauselwit.

See, Murphy's Law and friction are synonymous

just as the detailed and structured bad plans

become irrelevant post first shot.

So the law of probability tilts

toward the outcome of desolation.

As it would be with all the current technology

of communications, message runners

were still needed to transfer information between units.

A single man, alone, with the least amount

of protection had to navigate the terrain

and elements, carrying the very thoughts of an army.

The very worst position to be in.

As the law would have it, this task befell me.

So there I was, alone and vulnerable,

perverse enough, burnt land which was once a paradise,

back and forth, back and forth,

exposed to all of the dangers and horrors

risen from hell,

the disambiguation of life.

Now, you may think that bad luck is interminable.

What's intermble?

It means incessant.

Oh, yeah!

Oh, oh, oh, yeah.

One day as I was making my routine route

between military outposts,

I came across the most beautiful sight

that I had ever seen.

She was the most prepossessing and beguiling woman.

She took me in, fed, and comforted me.

We spent all of my free time that autumn together,

eating, drinking, laughing, and listening to the radio.

What happened to her?

The same thing that happens

to everyone who comes in contact with me.

That New Years Eve, there was a terrible storm.

I was able to appropriate a bottle of champaign from the PX.

I thought all of my bad luck was behind me.

A new beginning.

I finally found love in this world

of torment and tribulation.

GiGi

GiGi

What happened to her?

Spring turns to summer,

summer turns to autumn,

and autumn turns to the Ardennes.

Isolation, for some people,

can be maddening.

Isolation for me, and under these circumstances,

forced me to reflect on the events in my life.

What brought me to this place of death?

Would my luck change?

Questions every man ponders,

a common thread.

The apparitions of death that I saw as a child.

The Banshee.

Banshee, what's a banshee?

Oh, you don't want to know

about anything like that.

What's a banshee?

Forget I even mentioned it.

You know, as soon as this storm resides,

you two had best

be on your way.

I think you'll be fine.

Okay, from what?

- What's a banshee? - What's a banshee?

Oh, you don't want to know about

anything about that.

Forget I even mentioned it.

You two best be on your way.

I think you'll be okay.

Gather the children,

proclaim unto them this tale of death and destruction

from the foul banshee's wail!

You see, I began to realize

that any time something bad happens,

it was always accompanied by a storm and thunder,

whether it be natural or not.

And then I would hear the wail.

It's the most horrifying sound in the world.

The wail of the banshee!

What's that?

A ghost or something.

I don't believe in ghosts.

Neither did anyone else.

At first, even I dismissed

the conclusions of my observations,

but then I began to remember the tales

told me when I was a boy.

The old little stories,

the wail of the banshee

and the accompanying death.

You see, a banshee is a spirit

that materializes just before death in an Irish family.

And then I began to remember

the apparitions that I had seen as a boy

and the corresponding deaths of those around me.

And they were not methodical or random.

They were always accompanied by some sort of storm.

It was not me she was after.

It was always those near me.

Then came the next installment of doom.

December 16th, 1944.

The last push of the Germans, their death throes.

The Battle of the Bulge was about to begin

and I was smack dab, right in front of it.

There I was, isolated, alone,

cut off from my lines,

wandering the aftermath of her wretched spell.

I was exhausted, sick, on the verge of death,

looking for shelter.

I collapsed and began to fall asleep,

thinking the world would be better off without me.

Happy birthday, Murphy!

Where is the other?

I woke the next morning,

discovered that I had stumbled into the German

cannon battery, their last line of defense.

What could I do?

Run?

Stay?

And then I realized

what was about to happen.

It all made sense.

The she-devil had brought me there

to bring about the last throes of destruction.

The next storm approached and there was nothing

I could do to stop it.

They were all dead.

But you lived.

That's not bad luck.

Oh yeah, I survived the first bombardment,

but then the last gun

firing the last shell

of that last battle had my name on it

and I ended up with

a tin plate in my head!

You had your chance to leave, boys!

But now it's too late!

The she-devil has arrived and she's come for you!

No!

No!

Okay mister, you're right.

Your life is the worst I've ever heard.

Here.

It's yours, I don't want it.

I just want to get out of here.

You can have it, you can have it,

You can have it!

I don't want it,

am I even going to get out of here?

Oh, okay.

I just want to get out of here.

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