Original subtitles

(echoing) Safe keep the treasure for my boy.

I know you'll keep your word, baby.

Safe keep the treasure for my boy.

Keep safe the treasure for my boy.

(echoes fade)

Fucking arrow.

Fucking arrow in the middle of the fucking desert.

It's a nihilist's dream come true.

It's a hell of a place to die.

It's a hell of a way to die.

It was goddamn perfect.

Shut up.

You want a swig of this whiskey before I pull that arrow?

It's my destiny to die right here

with a fucking arrow sticking out of me.

With any luck, The Gent and Comanche will die laughing.

Guess I'm gonna live another day.

You got that right.

Aw, hell.

(screaming)

Fucker's gotta burn!

Come on, hey! Hey!

Hey!

This might be the best dust I've ever seen.

Pistol, I've been up to my ass in dust plenty of times

but this kind of dust is like a supreme kind of dust

that's been sent from some other planet.

I just want to live in dust now for the rest of my life.

(laughs) Shut the fuck up!

(laughs)

Where's Comanche?

He's over there taking a piss.

He doesn't want to get any dust on his dick.

When we ride, move him up to my left.

His name is Bix.

Forget Bix.

From now on you're known as Comanche.

Woman: "Had they really nailed

everyone responsible

for St. Louie's death?"

Thought Pistolero.

(pistol blasts)

Sorry.

My finger got stuck.

Next time share a little.

(pistol blasts)

(pistol blasts)

The Six-Six-Sixers.

They're back.

Something is rotten in the state of Pistolero.

Take this one, motherfucker!

So I say we cut off their heads,

we take 'em with us.

I say we just take a few pinkies and call it a day.

Hows about we take their stash, torch the trailer,

and get the fuck out of here?

Why don't you put a smile on your face,

let some sunshine in?

Life is good.

You're having a bad hair day.

Ask Comanche to take a little off the top.

(chuckles) Thanks for that.

Danke shon for the secondhand smoke.

You got right on the edge there,

closer than a hair on a gnat's ass.

What, on the verge of the brink?

Yeah.

Reading the situation exactly right

is how come I'm the pres.

Hey, Comanch, listen,

Pistolero wanted me to pass on

some important information to you.

There's a job opening at Supercuts,

about two and a half miles up the road.

Those motherfuckers had it coming.

Louie really was a fucking saint.

Yeah.

I'm gonna keep cutting up any motherfucker

that had anything to do with him dying.

Trigger?

You named your bike after a horse.

Exactly how old is Trigger

in horse-bike years?

She's younger than the woman I saw you with

in that bar in Reno last week.

And I gotta tell you, she's less horsey-looking too.

(both chuckle)

Pistolero wants you on his left.

Speechless, eh?

The left, huh?

I never seen anybody move up so fast before.

I'll do my best to remember that.

Anything you want to get off your chest,

anything you want to talk about,

just think of us as a

support group.

Well, golly gee.

Thanks.

Let's get the fuck out of this motherfucking hellhole!

(blues song playing)

(blues song playing)

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Bob The Bum.

We are

financially solvent.

Bob The Bum, it's good to be financially solvent.

Hey, can we talk?

You want to talk?

Yeah, it's kind of important.

Now?

Yeah, this is kind of like real fucking important.

Can't it wait a couple of hours, you bum?

We'll talk in about a month and a half.

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Woman's voice: It was America's Bicentennial.

And for Johnny, St. Louie, and Eddie Zero,

rebellion was still in the air.

Sonny.

Cherokee's voice: The three Victors had a little business

with The Deuce and Billy Wings.

It was the beginning of bad blood.

(slow song playing)

Woman: Wanna fuck?

聶

Trust me, after I give you the bad news

you ain't gonna want to fuck

ever again.

聶

Fuck me good one more time

before you never want to fuck again.

I'm the messenger of misery, baby.

聶

Let's fuck first.

Then I'll deliver my miserable message.

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Let's fuck right here.

We never fucked right here before.

Fuck me good right here, baby.

If you don't fuck me right now

you're going straight to hell.

Baby, I'm already in hell.

Apparently I made a reservation this morning.

Did you make your reservation for two?

It's a very strict dress code in hell.

You just can't waltz into hell.

- There's a doorman outside... - Baby...

I was built for hell.

I'm your devil babe.

I'm your very own personal hellcat...

hellhole.

(moans)

Mmm.

Baby, you're good.

(moaning loudly)

Maybe you're bad.

Give me the info.

Can I ask you something first?

Go ahead.

Just what kind of fucking president are you?

Everybody wants you assassinated.

Maybe you don't belong in the presidential suite.

I'm better than the C.I.A.,

better than the internet, better than the "Enquirer."

I'm better than all of them put together.

I've gathered more intelligence

than anyone you've ever met.

I'm better than Deep Throat.

Give me the fucking info.

Okay.

The Six-Six-Sixers are reforming

in the City of Angels.

The Deuce and Billy Wings are back with a vengeance.

(coughing)

Always pay your debts to Billy Wings.

Late last night a message was sent to all hellraisers.

It said The Deuce would like life a lot better

if he was living in Victors territory.

Give me something new, will you?

This whole Deuce business

has something to do with 1976,

something to do with that Cherokee Kisum woman.

That's all I wanted to hear.

Now we fuck.

Get much out of Opium yet?

Yep. Flowing red in there,

Blood Alley.

What do you got so far?

How much can you live with?

I can stomach anything I gotta stomach.

Speed and Machete, they're tied to The Deuce.

Were. They're finito.

Goody Two-Shoes just called in.

Speed and the Six-Six-Sixers,

they set up the St. Louie crack buy... with Opium.

Six-Six-Sixers are definitely coming at us.

Deuce and Billy Wings are coming.

Meet me tomorrow in Tucson.

Dani's Inferno. 3:00 P.M. You got that?

I got it.

How much did The Deuce pay you to set up St. Louie?

Stand up.

I'm sorry. Please.

Right from the start I treated you like a son.

Oh, well. Family isn't everything.

No.

Where's The Deuce, Doc?

And where's Pistolero?

I guess I'm just a fuckup, Billy.

I guess you are.

I guess I won't be needing your services anymore.

You're off the payroll, Doc.

(bolt piercing)

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- Hello, Gigi. - Hey.

(catcalling)

Tell Yvonne that the Victors are gonna seize the V.I.P. Table.

Bring over some beer.

If our beer don't kill you,

it'll sure make you piss stronger.

(laughs)

I got the cowboy.

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Come on, bitch!

Hi, Gent.

How many of these horny little devils you bang anyway?

Yvonne, you snuck up on me, didn't you?

Gentlemen, this is Yvonne, the future Mrs. Gent.

We won't be shopping for furniture anytime soon.

What happened?

You introduced Gigi as the future Mrs. Gent last month.

I forgot.

To the next Mrs. Gent.

Oh, and when you're done,

come to my office.

We're having a private party.

I'm fuckin' there! Right now!

- These guys are animals. - Why do we gotta wait?

(girls clamoring)

You're out!

Pistolero kept his word.

He made a vow to the three B's:

Bikes, Beer, and Booty.

We could be rich, man, you know?

I'm talking about four B's:

Bikes, Beer, Booty,

and Big Bucks, man!

That's actually fuckin' five B's.

There's a lot of dough to be had out there.

The Deuce, the Six-Six-Sixers,

they're the fuckin' future.

Pistolero...

he needs to be ousted.

All I know

is I'd battle Satan for Pistol.

A little fuckin' redundant, don't you think?

You know what? Fuck you.

Fuck me?

Fuck both you guys. I'm headed in there right now

and fuckin' wrestle with those bitches!

- Hey! - (girls clamor)

Well, fuck it. If I have to help him I have to help.

- Come on in. - Oh, man!

Shit! Yeah.

Where's all them oily pussies at?

The oily bird gets the worm.

Meet me in Tucson tomorrow at 6:00,

Dani's Inferno.

Ladies are not welcome except on ladies' night.

We got a sit-down with the Sixers.

Well, the fuckin' Sixers ain't here.

This better not be one long ride for nothing.

I gotta take a piss.

Where's your head?

The ladies room is closed except for ladies' night.

(zipper unzips)

Now you got a.38 pointed at your head.

You give me your colors, you little pisser,

or there's gonna be one unvictorious Victor.

What are you gonna do

with these eight other little pissers when I don't?

I'm gonna wine 'em and dine 'em.

I'm gonna show them Paris.

You ought to see how I'm gonna buy them off.

You know,

you have to accept the fact that

the brotherhood of bikers is bullshit.

The three B's: Bikers, Brotherhood, Bullshit.

Do you ever do anything but yack?

You half-witty piss-poor shit-wit nitwit?

Take us to the fuckin' Sixers!

Sure thing, man.

Come on, no probleme.

How long have you had that bike?

Since 1976.

Follow me if you can!

He's fucking with us, man.

Relax. I know this desert like the back of my hand.

You just keep me in sight.

This guy's a fucking clown.

Listen to me. We catch that old motherfucker,

let's whack that Injun motherfucker too.

We don't need him no more.

I know whose side I'm on. The Deuce.

Fuckin' copacetic by me.

I'm with you, man. The Deuce, the Six-Six-Sixers,

Billy Wings!

Ladies shouldn't ride Indians except on ladies' night!

Now put your balls on ice.

(pistol cylinder spins, clicks)

Let me get some info out of him first,

before we send him to the Happy Hunting Grounds.

I hope you got insurance, old man.

Be cool, Sonny Boy.

Greetings from Pistolero!

(machine gun fires)

Nobody said nothing to me about nobody pissing on my boots!

And I'm gonna tell Johnny Pissed-Off

that I'm lots more pissed off than him.

Comanche, meet Eddie Zero.

Now gimme a hand with this,

'cause I got things to go and places to do. Come on.

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Perfect.

Don't say that.

The day that it's perfect

is your last day on earth.

Hell is gonna get a hell of a lot worse from this point on.

I think I finally found Cherokee Kisum's boy.

The ones who killed Cherokee Kisum killed St. Louie too.

(screams)

The Gent.

That's me.

Pistolero would like to chat with you and Comanche.

Well thanks for the latest breaking news, Wolf Blitzer.

Dani's Inferno at 6:00.

You stay off the main highways.

The Sixers are cruising around.

Listen, it's dangerous as hell out here.

How are you doing weaponry-wise?

What, are you some kind of bike-to-bike salesman?

I'm Eddie Zero, man.

I thought Eddie Zero got killed in a big-rig crash in '86.

Yeah, I wish.

Tell Pistolero that I need to have a chat with him

before the other chat

about this asshole habit of him concealing shit from me.

Tell him your fuckin' self, man.

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My pussy's on fire!

Your thoughtfulness has given me the burning bush.

Glad to have the fire marshal arrive on the scene.

Extinguish the fire, Mr. Fire Chief.

How 'bout we get that fire hose out?

Fire drill. Mmm.

Fireplug me.

First the fire chief takes a ride into the desert.

Then I put out the fire.

What kind of fire department is this?

Fire resistant.

Fire retardant if you ask me.

You ain't the only fire truck in town.

Maybe I got fire insurance.

That kind of talk won't get you anywhere with me.

I'm fireproof.

Did you bring the peyote?

I got some thinking to do.

Here's a little reading material.

(whistles)

That's a lot of trees, baby.

666 pages.

Maybe when I get back,

your fire boy might do a little professional fire eating.

Now you're talking, Mr. Fire Boy.

(psychedelic music playing)

(laughs)

I know you'll keep your word, baby.

Safe keep the treasure

for my boy.

Portable Pistolero!

(laughs)

Your asshole behavior looks good all written down.

It's existential but sexy.

It's sexistential. (laughs)

And it's not just the peyote talking.

Let's get the fireworks started.

I gotta be moving on.

It's done... finito.

Do whatever you want with it when I'm dead.

It's your annuity.

Now I want you to drop those pants,

sit back, relax and watch my tongue

fight fire with fire.

Can we have a little fireside chat

after you're done tonguing me?

How's about we have the little fireside chat

while I'm tonguing you?

We'll kill two birds with one tongue.

Are you 86-ing me?

You're not a pussy eater.

You never ate my pussy, not once.

Why all of a sudden?

Nobody dumps me.

I'm the one that does the 86-ing!

(screams)

You fucking need to get that Cherokee Kisum

out of your gut once and for all!

Oh, Jesus!

(panting, laughs)

Puta madre.

Bury me near St. Louie

at the cactus flower.

Safe keep the treasure for the boy.

(screams)

Can I get you anything, Deuce?

No no.

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You must be The Gent.

(laughing) What tipped you off,

the outfit?

I'm known as Dani around these parts.

I'm a friend of Pistolero's.

Is that a fact?

Kind of a dangerous thing to be nowadays, isn't it?

What's your pleasure,

booze wise?

What's your nationality?

Born in the U.S. Of A.

I'm part Irish,

part Italian, part Arapaho.

I'm an Irishian-hoe.

I must say, God bless America.

And God damn it, I'll have an American beer.

You got it.

What a country.

(chuckles)

Thank you.

What should we drink to? Christopher Columbus.

To Amerigo Vespucci.

Hey!

Why'd you fly the coop?

That wasn't part of the fucking plan.

We were supposed to talk to Pistolero together

after he got done fucking.

It would be a whole lot easier to explain

of you didn't have that gun pointed at my face.

My life used to be a bike-and-booty epic.

Because of you and Pistolero

it's turned into a goddamn whopper of a chopper opera.

Well, if you'd like,

I can turn your life into an operetta.

(grunts, laughing)

Why'd you hit me with that bottle?

How many of these do you got?

Just one.

And I just used it up.

Yes, you did, son.

Open a beer.

What do you got?

What do you want?

Around here

we drink American beer.

American it is then.

I want to make a suggestion where you can stick all your sticks.

Nobody's gonna stop you.

What the fuck?

Lmplementing a plan to save the day?

All you've been doing is running around

collecting girls' phone numbers. Come on, motherfucker!

(gasps)

Go easy. Apache uprising.

A medicine woman saved my life

after she almost killed me.

- Beer? - Yeah.

All right.

Which asshole are you betting on?

I'm betting you're a bigger asshole

than the two of them put together.

I'll drink to that.

To the President of Assholes.

It took me years to figure out

if you were a good guy or a bad guy.

Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

It's how come I'm the pres.

I'm gonna kill the two of you

as soon as you wear yourselves out

a little bit more.

Rope-a-dopes.

Hell, my life used to be

one long biker party.

Where all the pussy was wide open

and the whiskey was flowing.

Now it seems my life has turned into

some kind of a cycle symphony,

a symphony in 666 movements,

a 666cc cycle symphony

with no intermezzos...

Shut the fuck up!

What the hell were you two assholes thinking?

Dani, can I be alone with my two assholes?

No Victor does any business

without getting the go-ahead from me first.

You told us to never ever bother you

when you were fucking.

I had everything covered.

Infiltrators, rats,

Benedict Arnolds up the ass.

I had us covered.

You had you covered!

And God damn it, I rue the day

that I became a Victor.

And I rue the day that I brought Bix in.

You didn't bring Bix in. He suckered you

into introducing him to me.

Nobody likes to be suckered.

Hey, go easy on him.

(grunts)

- I actually felt that one. - Good.

We got some serious hell-fighting to do

with Billy Wings.

You in or out?

Oh, I don't know. I could go either way.

Which way is it gonna be?

Eenie meenie miney moe.

I'm in.

Good.

I'm holding two aces.

I'm holding two aces and one Deuce.

I'm holding one Deuce at the Inn 6

off route 66.

I had it covered.

I had it all fucking covered.

I want you to meet me at Inn 6, route 66,

tomorrow morning at 6:00 A.M.

Think you can remember that?

Are you gonna tell me six more times?

A child of six could remember that.

(rock music playing)

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Hey, what do those white wings mean?

They're for licking virgin pussy.

The red wings

are for licking a bleeding pussy.

See that?

The blue-and-yellow wings

are for licking a policewoman.

The blue-and-yellow- on-brown wings...

they're for licking a policewoman's asshole.

The green wings are for licking a pussy with crabs.

The purple wings...

they're for licking a dead pussy.

See that?

Pill-popping, cunt-eating,

dope-smoking motherfucker.

But you know,

in a good way.

Get out of here.

Come here.

Comanche, I want you to meet Maria.

Hello.

Who the hell are you and what the fuck is your story?

I'm just a guy named Comanche,

a Victor

named Comanche. That's my story.

Do you know anything about a key?

No. Tell me about it.

Do you know anything about a safe-deposit box?

No.

Tell me about it.

Ever heard of Cherokee Kisum?

I knew a Cherokee Indian woman once.

The Deuce did too, from way back.

When they weren't busy

leading the sexual revolution

they were busy producing acid.

They made a fortune on the L.S.D. Market,

then coke.

The only problem was,

she was fucking over The Deuce while she was fucking him.

And let me tell you something...

she stashed away one hell of a mint.

On July 4th, 1976,

she went up in flames.

She had a boy.

No one ever saw that boy ever again.

How do I know for sure that you're you?

Stand up.

Hi, Deuce. How are you?

Hello, Johnny.

It's been many a moon.

Mm-hmm.

Thank you for the suite, Johnny.

You know,

I hope I'm not being unreasonable,

but no mint on the pillow again last night.

No pillow, in fact.

You know, Johnny,

mint hoarding

is not good for business.

The key to a good business relationship is

everybody's happy.

I'm not happy, Johnny.

That's a very nice suit.

Yeah, well, it used to be

before I was shanghaied two nights ago.

I thought you got killed by a big rig back in '86.

I ain't happy, Johnny.

Well, who is, Deuce?

I mean,

tell me if it's none of my business,

but I heard you did a lot of traveling all these years.

That's very true.

Seeing America, building an empire.

It was right around

the summer of '76, I think,

when you kind of

86-ed yourself from the Six-Six-Sixers.

You know, Johnny,

motorcycles are big business,

big business.

I mean, books, magazines,

clothing, customizing shops...

so big that I finally had to give up

riding bikes so I could concentrate

on my motorcycle business.

I traveled all over the United States...

the Keystone State,

the Treasure State, the Show-Me State,

- setting up businesses. - (whistles)

I decided to come back here

because...

because I had some unfinished business.

Boy oh boy, I don't know,

I tell you, l...

I don't know nothing

about the Keystone State,

the Treasure State or the Show-Me State.

I don't know.

My business has always been

just kind of minding my own business.

So how is business?

It's business as usual.

Good.

Then can we get down to business?

Let's cut a deal.

How's this?

I get the Sixers off your back

and off The Gent's back

and you give me

whatever you feel I'm entitled to

for services rendered

and everybody's happy,

the three key points of this deal being

that I get deposited back in L.A.

With my entitlement,

and you and The Gent

get to die old men.

Those would be the three key points of this deal.

I've had enough of you.

Cut out the double talk.

He doesn't know anything

about a safe-deposit box or a key.

A key?

What-what-what key are you talking about?

The key that Cherokee Kisum had made.

Who's Cherokee Kisum?

Hmm?

Cherokee Kisum was the young woman

you kept company with.

The young woman who was set on fire

on July 4th, 1976.

Billy Wings: Deuce, she's gotta burn.

Nothing, Johnny.

I'm sorry, I don't have

any recollection of any of this.

It was quite a long time ago.

Can you recollect setting St. Louie on fire

a couple of nights ago?

Huh.

Deuce, I swear

Pistolero never said a fucking thing

about any safe-deposit box!

No, Johnny.

No memory of it at all.

But then I ain't no Marcel Proust.

You got any proof of all this?

Do I need fucking proof?

Well, you must need something

or I'd be dead already, wouldn't I?

The only reason you're not dead is

before I kill you I wanted to ask Sonny Kisum

if he'd like to cut off your head before I do it.

Hell, yes.

I've waited all of these years

to kill him with you.

I still got business with Billy Wings.

Partners in crime, right?

I had Eddie Zero trying to track down

Sonny Kisum for years.

Maybe you would have found Sonny Kisum

if your tracker wasn't a 24-7 hash-head.

No.

No, in my opinion, you don't find Sonny Kisum

until Sonny Kisum wants to be found.

I was just about to say that.

Cherokee Kisum

was one wild-as-hell woman,

a good woman

but wild.

I gave her my word

if anything happened to her

I'd safe keep the treasure for her boy.

Is it being kept safer

than the safekeeping of Cherokee Kisum was?

She wasn't looking to me for safekeeping.

I never knew what happened the day she died

and couldn't find anyone who did.

It was a 36-carat-

diamond-studded,

solid gold riddle.

(hooting)

Look, I'm an owl.

(rock music playing)

(rock music playing)

(women laughing)

Get out of here.

In the basket.

Ain't that Pistolero one malevolent motherfucker?

Follow me to Pistolero

if you can stomach it.

Well now, the way I see it

I only got close to that treasure once before

and I ain't gonna let that motherfucker

fuck it up again this time.

Let's ride.

(engine puttering)

Go home.

It'll all amount to nothing.

Pistolero's coming here.

Don't fuck up. I need him alive.

Hey, piker biker.

(wheezy laugh)

Purple wings.

Can you two stomach which dead pussy

earned me my purple wings?

(coughing)

Ain't nothing you can do to me

I can't stomach.

You ain't seen nothing yet.

(gunshot)

(groaning)

(muffled screams)

(Billy Wings laughing)

(continues laughing)

Give Comanche the two keys you're holding.

Let him safe keep 'em for a while.

Give Comanche the two keys you're holding.

Let him safe keep 'em for a while, God damn it.

Take a peek at St. Louie. See if he's resting in peace.

Look for the cactus flower.

You know, you should lighten up on yourself.

When you fuck with The Deuce you're gonna get burned by The Deuce.

I met her before she met The Deuce.

I first met her in 1969

through Eddie Zero.

She was 16. I was 14.

Think about that one.

(rock music playing)

(music stops)

Hey, you okay?

- Nada? - Yes, sir.

- Did you bring my jacket? - Mm-hmm. Everything okay?

Oh, yeah.

So how come we'd never met before?

- I'm Eddie. - I know, Eddie.

You ever get tired of faking your own death?

(chuckles) You got a joint?

I sure do.

Baby.

Hey, Kemo Sabe, just how much was

in that box for us from the Cherokee woman?

Us?

Us, yeah, like you and me. Us, yeah.

I knew it would come to this... us.

Well, I don't want nothing from it.

I'm only curious to know how much is in there.

You're just curious,

but you don't want nothing from it.

No, I don't.

It's none of our business what's in the box.

So what you're saying is

that the booty in the box

that I've already said that I don't want nothing from

is none of my business?

(metallic thud)

Gent: So let me get this straight...

the box and the booty that's in it

which I've already said

that I don't want nothing of

is none of my business?

Butt out of the booty business, in other words.

Well, you're being downright unfriendly now.

Where's the cash that Bob The Bum was holding

when he got his throat slit?

Oh, well, I'm holding on to that.

I'm keeping it safe

'cause that's my destiny.

And maybe that's none of your business.

I think it's my business to have in my hand right there.

Listen, I don't want to have to kill you.

I want you to hand over

Bob The Bum's cash right now.

Go ahead. Where do you want to kill me, here?

You want to kill me between the eyes?

Right between the eyes, yeah.

Go ahead. Go ahead.

- Put it right between my fucking eyes. - (laughing)

Come on, go ahead. You can do it.

Come on.

- Eh... - (gunshot)

I was counting on you to do something

to stop this whole fucking ridiculous thing.

What the hell made you think

you could count on me?

What got into your fucking brain?

Because I love you.

Aw, hell.

You did good, Sonny.

I think I'm gonna call you son from now on

'cause Sonny's eating up way too much fucking time.

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(country song playing)

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(rock music playing)