All language subtitles for Deadwood.S01E10.720p.BluRay.x264-SiNNERS

Yeah.

What was in my mind
to raise my hand?

Anyways,

time for breakfast.

- You go ahead.
- Bullshit.

Come on.

Would a letter
to the paper be an idea...

same time I give
the proposal to Farnum?

- Yes.
- Marshal public sentiment and favor,

maybe fence 'em in a little.

- Excellent approach.
- Goddamn quicksand

is what these commissioners'
positions amount to.

Yes, they do.

It's all a hoot and a holler to you,
though, isn't it, Sol?

- No, it isn't.
- Jesus Christ.

- Breakfast vittles at the ready, gentlemen.
- Mayor.

As far as use for the fees
to be levied on businesses,

I worked a proposal up on
a permanent infirmary and a camp dump.

The first use for those fees

is paying bribes to the legislature.

Their bagman's in transit.

- Well, if there's anything fucking left.
- Why, Mr. Bullock,

you sound like
you want to wring my neck.

Submit your ideas and, by all means,

I'll take them under advisement.

Always glad to hear from
the camp Health Commissioner.

Give the idea to the damn paper first.

Please, take your passage.

Cocksucker.

What is this Celestial

doing approaching
The Gem's front door?

The tit licker.

Whoa whoa whoa
whoa whoa whoa!

- Stop where the fuck you are, Mr. Wu.
- Swedgin.

Yeah, well, I'll get Mr. "Swedgin,"

but first, you gotta walk the fuck out

- and then come around the back.
- Swedgin.

Uh, nope, no!
No!

No, closed a little while.
Lick later.

We got us a situation here, Al!

Come in the front fucking door.

Bring him up.

You want me to take him out
and bring him around back?

Bring him the fuck up.

Come on, Mr. Wu.
Come on.

Put him in a chair
and get out, Johnny.

Sit.

Sit!
He won't sit.

- Get out.
- Yes, sir.

What is it, Wu?

Do you think I should
open it back up?

I believe that's what Al would want.

Mayor.

August commencement
to my administration...

stand stymied outside a saloon

beside a degenerate tit licker.

Now the... this...
this is one of you, huh?

Oh, this... this is him dead?

And these two.

...cocksucker!

Yeah, glad I taught you that fucking word.
These are whites, huh?

White cocksucker!

Two white cocksuckers killed him

and stole the dope that
he was bringing to you.

White cocksucker!
You, Swedgin.

The dope that you were
gonna fucking sell to me?

White cocksucker.

These two white cocksuckers?
Who the fuck did it?

- Wu?
- Who, you ignorant fucking Chink?!

- Wu?!
- Who?!

Who... who stole the fucking dope?!

- Cocksucker!
- Aw, Jesus.

Those are the first "cocksuckers"

I have ever heard shouted
from that room, Dan,

that didn't come from Al's mouth

that wasn't followed
by Al coming over to that railing,

pointing at you and beckoning you
up them stairs with your fucking knife.

I begrudge that pervert
his capacity for happiness.

I do.

Them people worship
a fat man seated on his ass.

You listen to me, hmm?

Listen.

I...

find cocksuckers.

I find.

I find dope...

and cocksuckers who steal...

- fucking dope, huh?
- White cocksucker.

Oh, yeah.

I'll find those fucking cocksuckers.

Now get the fuck out of here, Wu,
the back way, you understand?

The back way
or we'll start getting people

having the wrong fucking idea
of things around here, huh?

Where's the dope fiend?

Ain't seen Jimmy Irons
in three or four days.

Fucking find him.

- Morning, EB.
- Morning, sir.

Anything the mayor should know?

Name of another tailor.

Didn't we have an engagement
to stuff envelopes, Al?

Not until I get the currency
to stuff 'em with.

"Any person who causes offal,

manure, rubbish or filth to be discharged
in the common areas of the camp

except in the areas
designated the camp dump,

shall be subject to a fine
of not less than $1 or more than $3,

such revenues
to be used for dump upkeep

and to build and keep up
a camp infirmary."

That's excellent, Mr. Bullock.

- Morning.
- Good morning, Mr. Bullock.

- Gentlemen.
- Mrs. Garret.

- Good morning, madam.
- Good morning.

And good morning to you, young lady.

It's Mr. Bullock's ideas on

refuse disposal.

It is terribly crowded today.

- Mmm.
- We were just remarking just yesterday

that it couldn't possibly
get more crowded.

And yet today it is.

I'm gonna ask after EB Farnum.

Mr. Farnum's away from the desk.

- Gem saloon, across the way.
- Two rooms.

There's no vacancy, sir.

- I'll work it out while you eat.
- There's a man outside with two horses.

You send the man inside,
see the horses stabled.

- Don't ask no fucking extra for it.
- Yes, sir.

Mr. Farnum's doing
a lined office business.

Or should I say "Mayor" Farnum?

Don't, unless you feel you have to.

That very attractive solitary woman

is Miss Joanie Stubbs,

a supervisory figure

at Cy Tolliver's Bella Union saloon.

- Your cravat's in your bacon.
- Oh.

Fuck this!

Is it fucking crowded in here

or you just got
some big fucking feet?

Maybe it's a lethal
combination of 'em both.

This one legislator's named
on the list you were given twice, Al.

- Lucalis Childs of Bismarck.
- Give him two envelopes.

I'll call him on it
if it ever suits my purpose.

As damp as your hands are, why do you
continuously lick your fucking thumb?

Habit, I suppose.

Could you learn the habit
of licking a fucking stump?

If Health Commissioner
Bullock has his way,

some of the levies meant to defray

the cost of these payoffs
may get diverted.

- To what?
- Infirmary for the camp.

- Garbage dump.
- Well, that type of shit's inevitable.

EB,

steal none of this money.

Gratuitous, hurtful and unnecessary.

When I deal with these
cocksuckers down the road,

I need to be able to look
any one of 'em in the eye,

name what they were paid

- and know I'm right.
- Understood.

Intact and undiminished.

- What is it, Al?
- Half a chance this could be him.

The bagman?
He wasn't to be here till tonight.

Name's Silas Adams.
I'm looking for EB Farnum.

I'm Mayor EB Farnum, Mr. Adams.

And this is Al Swearengen.

I'm to give this to you
from Magistrate Clagett.

And you're to give those to me.

Pour yourself and your friend a drink.

Stop!

You motherless fucking whores.

Fuck you!

- Fuck me?!
- Gentlemen!

- You know what he says here?
- No.

You think you should've asked me that
before you motherfucked me?

A double-crossing cocksucker.

That's Magistrate Clagett.

Is that the message
you want me to take back to him?

That's the gist of it. Let me put it
a better way before I send you

and your mute friend
back down the fucking trail.

No later than tonight.

- Are you giving me a time limit?
- Yeah.

- Pussy and whiskey free, if you want it.
- I make my own arrangements.

Mr. Adams, may I accompany
you to my hotel, sir?

Mr. Adams?

Hey, Al.

Dan's got Jimmy Irons.

Tell him I'll receive him

in my fucking chambers, okay?

Get out of here.

- You work out the rooms?
- You gotta share.

Just send up two plates of fucking food.

And don't spit in 'em, partner.

Mr. Utter.

I'd about given up hope.

Yes.

Mighty kind of you, Miss Stubbs.

How's the freight business
working out?

All a man could wish for and verging
on more than he can handle.

Glad to hear it.

How'd you do looking
for your whorehouse?

I ain't found a spot yet.

I guess, to be more honest,
I'd say I found a few,

- but ain't settled on one yet, absolutely.
- I see.

Everyone done?
Because if not, I fear for our lives.

- I'm done.
- Let's take a nice brisk walk.

Shit. Oh God. Did I... did I...

did I spill on anyone?

- No.
- Sorry.

- Where y'all headed?
- Gonna take the air.

Join us if the opportunity permits.

It's good to see you, Charlie.

Have a good day.

You too, Miss Stubbs.

Madam, as crowded as it was
yesterday and more so today,

it shows no sign
of becoming less crowded.

You mind getting your ass
out of my shoulder?

You got a rude
fucking mouth, fella.

Oh, excuse me.

Conditions in that dining room
have grown increasingly oppressive.

- It's crowded, for a fact.
- Price of the camp's success.

That fella was being
smart with you, Merrick.

Your ass was nowhere
near his shoulder.

Well, whatever my proximity,
it was certainly unintentional.

Well, believe me, I had the angle.

We was just remarking
how tight it's all getting in there.

Ah, yet how many memories
fond to the recollection

have their setting in that
tight little dining room?

Yeah, well, it's fucked now.

- Anyways, we ought to open soon.
- Who would argue that the venue

was the cause of these happy memories,
nor the bill of fare?

The bitter coffee, the rancid bacon,

those stale biscuits

that were tomb and grave
to so many insects.

No, gentlemen,

it was the meandering conversation,

the lingering with men of character,

some of whom are walking with me now,

that was such pleasure to experience

and such a joy now to recall.

Good of you to say, Mr. Merrick.

Yeah, back at ya as far as that goes.

Yeah.

Gentlemen, what's to prevent us
from freeing our friendship

from dependence on that
little dining room?

Relying not on happenstance
and appetite to further

commerce between us,
but on our own conscious choice?

- Meaning what?
- Meaning, Mr. Utter,

the most informal and disorganized

- of clubs.
- We gotta open, Sol.

Yeah, I don't join clubs.

Now now, its sole purpose

could be just walking
together as we are now.

Well, why don't we just walk together
when we happen to be out?

We could, or we could dedicate ourselves
to the principle of walking together.

Maybe all we need is a name.

Sol?

We gotta open.

- Yeah, I got freight coming in.
- This was good.

I enjoyed this.

Yeah, we'll do it again.

- Morning, Mr. Merrick.
- Thank you, Mr. Bullock.

And thank you for
the letter to the editor.

"The Ambulators."

Huh.

Where have you been, Jimmy?

So fucking sick, Mr. Swearengen.

- Chills, fever.
- Yeah, I hear it still in your chest.

Couple times, felt like turning
my face to the fucking wall.

- Fucking pale you are too.
- I... I've rounded the corner though.

Plan for my return today or tomorrow.

Wu's opium courier was robbed.

Oh, is that so?

Well, was it money they got or dope?

All his fucking dope.

Uh-oh.

- So you didn't get your resupply.
- No.

- Had you any laid by?
- No, sir.

"Uh-oh," eh, Jimmy?

It sounds like I'm in for a dry time.

Some more aches and pains
coming up for me.

When'd Wu suppose he'd
hear again from California?

Can he even make himself
understood to you?

I'm that amazed
how the fuck you and him

can make yourselves understood
any way to each other.

Jimmy, what become
of that dope-fiend faro dealer

that I hired to apprise me
of what transpired over at Tolliver's?

Leon?

Leon, that's right.

Jeez, he just disappeared, didn't he?

Where the fuck has he got to?

You've been wrong
since you walked in here.

You know that, Jimmy, don't you?

Like I said, sir, I feel like hell.

Is that what I mean?

Well, what do you mean,
Mr. Swearengen?

You been lying, Jimmy.

The smell of cat's piss
in this room is so bad,

I want to burn down
the fucking building.

I'm nervous, sir.
I'm always nervous around you.

Nervousness don't cause that.
Lying causes cat piss smell.

I want to tear this entire
fucking structure down.

I'll strangle you and throw
you off the balcony,

you stinking little cocksucker,
if you don't hurry to tell me

where and what's left
of that fucking dope

that you and that other weasel
have been slamming

into your dope-fiend fucking veins
during your fucking convalescence.

God, Mr. Swearengen...

Jesus, what a fucking stink!

Not to mention
you kill a fucking Chink courier,

and the headache over that
I'm gonna have with fucking Wu

if I ever get this fucking stench
out of my fucking nostrils.

I just shit myself, sir. I'm saying it now
before the smell gets you.

- You shit yourself?
- I'm sorry.

Go ahead, throw yourself
off the balcony.

I'm gonna crawl, sir.
I shouldn't stand.

Where's the fucking dope?

At Leon's.
I'll show you exactly.

I'll tell you everything.
We were four days up in his room.

Hurry the fuck up.
Go on, throw yourself.

And stay in the fucking
muck until I'm down there.

I just got a splinter the length
of my arm in my fucking palm.

- It's all right.
- Go.

Go, Jimmy.
Come on.

Come on, get your
shit-smeared ass off my balcony.

Go go go!

I hurt my arm, but I'm okay.

- You fucking lie there now.
- I'm just gonna roll forward,

so... so I don't get trampled.

Jimmy Irons is in the muck.

Don't let him scuttle off until Dan
emerges with other orders.

How'd it go with Jimmy?

Lying thieving cocksucker
threw himself off a balcony.

He'll lead you to whatever shithole him and
that dope-fiend faro dealer from Tolliver's

have been using to slam
Wu's junk into their arms.

Change Irons into a pair of the other
cocksucker's trousers

and bring 'em both back here,
plus whatever dope's left.

All right.

- Is that the reverend idling by the piano?
- Yes, sir.

- Has he explained his presence at all?
- No, sir.

But he ain't been trying to lead
no lost souls to the Lord.

So there's that.

Reverend.

Mr. Swearengen.

- Your new piano plays wonderfully.
- Ain't it delightful?

Dave, go get a free touch
from Wanda, huh?

What's the matter with your eye?

I'm not certain. Something's been
amiss the last week or so.

Anyways, not wanting to give offense,

would you mind me asking you
to frequent another joint?

No. No, I understand.

Man of the cloth slows
business down, huh?

I understand, certainly.

Hey, what...
what's that then, hmm?

Something amiss
with my leg as well.

How you are doing
with the fits, huh?

Nothing amiss with those.
They come with some regularity.

- My brother suffered them.
- Did he?

Any case, don't take me
for inhospitable.

Off hours,

any purpose you want
to visit, hmm, hmm?

Incognito or the like,
I'll be happy to make it work.

I just happened to hear the piano.

All right, Minister.

All right, Mr. Swearengen.

Fucking new piano.

- Afternoon.
- Afternoon.

- Afternoon, Hostetler.
- Afternoon.

Now I got other interests in my property.
If'n you want it, better make an offer.

I'm not gonna make an offer today.

- How much time would you need?
- I don't know, Hostetler.

I said when I was ready,
I'd be by to you.

You don't want to rush me.

I was giving you first opportunity.

- No one is rushing you.
- All right.

Fair offer from other interests,
I'm gonna take it.

All right, Hostetler.

- I'll be having a pickaxe.
- Bargain at $7.

It's open.

- Hi ya, kid.
- Hi, Eddie.

Did that bloodstain
get you the special rate?

Have a seat, Eddie.

I'd offer you a drink,
but I don't have any booze.

You settle on a location
for your new place yet?

- I'm looking.
- Good.

- That's a lie.
- Long as it's the only one you ever told me.

I don't want Cy to back me, and I don't know
how to do anything without him.

- I'll back you.
- You don't have that kind of money.

- I will.
- Are you gonna turn prospector, Eddie?

I'm gonna rob Cy.

Don't, Eddie. He'll know.

What's the time, kid?

No, he won't.

I do business with this fucking man.
Wu does 50 fucking things for me.

You rob his fucking courier
and kill the cocksucker.

What the fuck do I do with you, huh?

I'm so fucked up, Mr. Swearengen.

I can't make a case for myself.

What would you want to say?

From you, I have received
no service of any kind at any point.

That chair would make a better spy.

I've worked hard for you, Mr. Swearengen.

- My habit's a fuckin' curse.
- Oh God.

I wish to fuck I never
took up opium in my life.

If something might
persuade you, Mr. Swearengen,

to say you couldn't find us and give us
a day's start out of camp?

You got almost half the dope back,
maybe a little less.

So I give him a little less
than half the dope,

which you being the cat-piss
stinking liars you are,

he'll probably draw a picture explaining
to me is 10% of the dope.

And then I'll probably draw a picture
for him, portraying myself a cunt!

'Cause in that Chink mind of his,

I'm supposed to bring you to him
for his pig's fucking supper.

Please fucking God, Mr. Swearengen,

don't give us to Wu for his pigs.

We're here to be overcharged
on some fucking meat.

Will Your Chink Highness
fucking permit us to go inside

and get robbed blind on a side of elk?

I found the cocksuckers
that stole your dope

and that's what's left
of the fucking shipment.

Cocksuckers!

Oh yeah, I'm all fucking for it, Wu.

But neither of us would have reached

our present comfortable position
freezing our balls off

if we didn't understand
you can't cut the throat

of every cocksucker
whose character it would improve.

Cocksucker.

What happens after
the white cocksuckers' throats

have been cut and two dozen more
white cocksuckers

get their loads on
and decide to teach you

and all your Chink friends
a fucking lesson?

Who's gonna walk away
from that get-together, huh, Wu?

Cocksucker!

Yeah.

Cocksucker.

Swedgin bring you cocksucker.

- Swedgin.
- But only one, Wu.

One cocksucker, not two.

Cocksucker.

One.

No two.

I give up two whites for one Chink,

when they've finished stringing
you up, they'll come get me.

How much?

Swedgin.

Even money this'll end up
a fucking bloodbath.

Every fucking time I come
with one price in mind

and leave having paid him double.
How does this Wu do it to me, huh?

Don't think these Chinks
understand you.

They understand my fucking attitude,
that he's a fucking wily big shot.

Builds him up amongst his people.

Take them two dope-fiends
over to the baths

while I converse with Tolliver
over which one gets murdered, huh?

It's a nice piece of meat.

So cut a piece off for yourself,

put the rest in the cellar, then take
them hoople-heads to the bath.

Nice meat!

If it's your missing faro dealer
you're drinking over,

he just threw up in my office.

Had you been sharing space
with him awhile?

Only long enough to find out him
and a fellow dope-fiend works for me robbed

and murdered a Chink opium courier.

Leon, Leon, Leon.

Second-best thimble rigger I ever saw
when he wasn't chasing the dragon.

You do realize I'm presenting you
with a mutual fucking problem?

Which I expect's a little ways
down the road,

so I'm waxing philosophical
till you tell me what you want.

I made a deal with the boss Chink
to give him one of the two dope-fiends.

Oh. Do I assume

some piece of the opium
this courier bore was intended for you?

Ah, so you got a reason
to keep the Chink boss happy.

I don't, so I can stand on principle.

What's your fucking principle?

A white dope-fiend's still white.
I don't deliver white men to Chinks.

Leaving me with a bag of shit to hold.

Maybe you should think harder
about trafficking in fucking junk.

I'm a purveyor of spirits, Cy,
dope fucking included,

and when chance affords, a thief,
but I ain't no fucking hypocrite.

I think we're done, Al.

But in my line, I'm used to certain types
thinking they need the last word.

No, my last word is the fucking
bagman's here from Yankton,

so get up your fucking share.

Where's fucking Joanie staying?

I don't know, Cy.

Ah, don't fucking lie to me.

I don't know.

Well, if you see her

at whatever fucking place
you don't know where she's staying at,

tell her I'd have some good
fucking news for her

about upcoming
real estate availabilities

if she'd ever show up to hear about it.

- Okay?
- Sure, boss.

Thank you.

That ain't right, see?

My father was a preacher of the Word
and that ain't fucking right.

So this what it's come
to in Deadwood, eh, Doc?

Ministers kicking up their heels

and Chinamen walking
through the front door?

You know, when you giggle,
you leak piss.

- That poor fucking man.
- Let me see your arm.

It's fine, Doc. It's better.

Quit acting like
a goddamn fool and sit down.

Get the fuck away from him!

Shut that fucking piano down!

Hey, big time,
fuck 'em or get the fuck out!

- Did we not come to an understanding?
- In what connection, sir?

In the connection of you
staying the fuck out of here.

I don't recall that, sir.

- Do you wish me to leave?
- Yeah, I wish you to fucking leave.

Write yourself a note and hang it
over your one good fucking eye:

- "Stay out of Al Swearengen's joint."
- All right, sir.

"Stay the fuck out of The Gem,
whatever my fucking problem is," hmm?

I was drawn to the music.

The piano relieves my headache.

Listen to a piano where you don't make
a fucking ass out of yourself, huh?

- Do you know where I might find one?
- No!

Help him the fuck out, huh?

Come on.

What the fuck was that?

- He's having changes in his brain.
- I hope to Christ he's having changes.

I'd hate to think of him conducting
performances like that

of secret evenings
in the forest or the like.

- I'm certain now it's a tumor.
- That caused the fits too, huh?

- Yes.
- You notice now too he's staring cockeyed?

He was in here not two hours ago,
don't fucking remember.

- Nothing to be done, huh?
- No.

He ain't coming back in my joint.
He's a man of the cloth in case he forgets.

Kicking up his legs
like a four-bit strumpet.

How's Trixie's spirits
seem to you, huh?

- Her abscess seems fine.
- That ain't what I asked!

And I don't answer for
the state of people's spirits.

Come on! Buy a drink!
Get your pricks sucked!

Spend some fucking money, huh?!

It ain't circumstance.

It's my own fucking
mettlesome nature.

- Far as what?
- What I've done, Sol.

And you have to admire me for it.

It's moved 300 miles
to set the damn situation up

I left Montana to get away from.

- Drawing up proposals for refuse disposal.
- Unsolicited.

Insulted Hostetler out
of my own fucking irritability.

I believe Hostetler's
had worse afternoons.

Wife and child I barely know.

I don't guess you need me to say it.

If there's a heaven, your brother sees
what you did and he's grateful.

Maybe he sees me borrowing his life
so I didn't have to live my own.

People have made good lives
out of borrowed ones before.

But she is a beautiful woman.

Them stuffed envelopes
for those cunts at the legislature,

past smoothing the road
for the camp's annexation,

they were supposed to clear up
a personal situation.

But that letter you bore
from the magistrate

explained my situation would
need additional envelopes.

Not my problem.

But you'd understand
how a man would feel aggrieved

learning that he bribed
a legislator to annex a camp,

but hadn't got
the sold-out cocksuckers

to lift a murder warrant against him?
How he'd feel that he spent a lot of time

and trouble and expense
for the privilege of getting hanged?

Not so far I'd excuse him motherfucking me
that only bore the message.

No.

I'm here to take your message back
to the magistrate.

Who I'd be surprised is a lying,
thieving double-crossing cocksucker

only in his dealings with me.

Yeah.

- Magistrate Clagett is a cocksucker.
- And?

Make your offer.

How can you prove you're not here
to catch me in a switch?

I'm not here to prove shit to you.

Does it matter to you the cocksucker
the warrant's out on me for killing

needed murdering
every fucking day he drew breath?

- No.
- Good.

Gotta go to the bathhouse.
You want to accompany me?

No one's looking
to fuck you up the ass.

I gotta execute someone.

Here's the situation:

two dope-fiends rob
and murder an opium courier.

Dope-fiends are white,
opium courier's a Chink.

So far, who cares?

The Chink who paid
for the delivery

is a boss amongst
his own, goes berserk.

Matter of indifference still, huh?

Some of the dope should
have been delivered

by the boss Chink to a pillar
of the white community,

a wonderful man.

One of the dope-fiends
works for him.

The other one works for a clever cocksucker
who could be considered his rival,

and who is watching us
from his balcony even as we speak.

Thank you for not looking.

The boss Chink wants to feed

both the dope-fiends to his pigs.

No.

Would you give him one?

Is the boss Chink the only source
of opium in the camp?

Yup.

Any other business connections
with the white pillar?

Several.

I'd give him one.

Let the dope-fiends
draw fucking straws.

Clever cocksucker
won't consent to that.

Don't want his man in a lottery

that could deliver him to a Chink.

Is the clever cocksucker
spoiling for a fight?

Al.

What you asked for earlier...

And I suspect
that's who it's intended for.

Smart thinking.

This is Lila.

Say hello to the fellas, Lila.

- Hello, fellas.
- Speaks too.

Be a big earner for you, Cy.

- Maybe he is spoiling for a fight.
- Felt that way to me.

No one asked you how it felt.
My money'd be on him trying to put

the Chink boss in the wrong
in the eyes of the camp.

Anyways, thank God
I don't have to rely on you

to formulate my plan of action.

You with me?

Yeah, I'm with you.

Mr. Swearengen.

Al, we are good and fucked up.

We are fucked up, Mr. Swearengen.

- What have we been saying repeatedly, Dan?
- "Al's a good guy."

That you'd fucking
allow us our works here

and us periodically fixing
the entire time we're in the fucking tub,

after how we inconvenienced you
and fucked you up.

Fucked up our own fucking lives

from the time I was a fucking child.

Al.

Thank you, Mr. Swearengen,
and you are a good guy.

Thank you, Al.

One of you is gonna have
to apologize to Wu.

- Apologize?
- I'll apologize.

Bring that slant-eyed
bastard over here.

He can get in the fucking tub with me.

I'll apologize

and then I'll kiss him.

And then I'll tie him off
and I'll shoot him up

and then I'll blow him

with fucking soap.

We're gonna draw straws...

to see who goes over to see Wu.

We go there?

I withdraw my volunteer.

I am comfortable where I am.

You're gonna pick a straw, Jimmy.

Well, when you say apologize, sir,

could you be specific
what's gonna happen?

Short straw apologizes.

But then what the fuck
is Wu gonna do?

I worked it out with Wu.

You don't think I'd be here
unless I'd worked it out with Wu.

So an apology's gonna be enough?

We happen to be fucking white.

In case you hadn't noticed, he happens
to be a fucking slant-eyed fucking Celestial.

He's lucky to get a fucking apology.

He's lucky we're willing to do even that.

- Why do I gotta pick?
- I'll pick.

I don't fucking mind.
Don't be fucking afraid.

You be fucking afraid your whole life
of every fucking thing.

You want me to pick, Al?
I'll pick.

And then I'll blow myself
with fucking soap.

Pick, Jimmy.

Show me...

uh, would you show me
the straws, please, sir?

So I know one's long and one's short.

Pick.

Can I get off again first?

Is that the short one or the long one?

Do not throw up.
I don't want to smell your stink!

- Reverend Smith.
- Evening, sir.

- Evening.
- Reverend.

I watched goods in the tent this, uh...

this structure replaced
while Messieurs...

Bullock and Star
first took in the camp.

You sure did.

What can we do for you, Reverend?

I'm in a quandary, gentlemen.

Are you Messieurs Bullock and Star?

In the flesh.

You are the absolute
images of them, gentlemen.

But what makes me afraid is
I do not recognize you as my friends.

And naturally, I am afraid.

What are you afraid of, sir?

I don't know what's happening to me.

I have various ailments,
and I suppose this is a further ailment,

but of what sort I don't know.

And I'm afraid if you are devils...

which I don't believe you are

because you were the kindest men
of all in the camp to me...

but if you were devils, I suppose

that would be the type
of shape you would take,

and... and if you are not devils, I...

then I am...

I am simply losing my mind.

And with my other ailments,

I am concerned and afraid.

All right, Reverend.

We're the people you met
the night you watched our goods.

I'm from Etobicoke, Ontario.

I'm from Vienna, Austria.

- Wonderful.
- You're here with friends.

Yes yes, I feel that now.

And I have various ailments

of which we all suffer.

And next morning
often finds us feeling better.

Yes.

In any case, part of God's plan.

May we walk you back
to your tent, sir?

An evening stroll with friends,

I would so enjoy that.

Let's go then.

Mr. Swearengen's
saloon has a new piano.

You tell your boss...
tell him what you saw here, huh?

I saw a fair procedure.

I saw a fair procedure, Al,
to tell Mr. Tolliver.

Oh God!

Do not fucking call me Al.

I guess Tolliver achieved his purpose
standing on that balcony.

- Why'd you kill your own guy?
- Why?

You give Tolliver's dope-fiend to
the boss Chink instead of your own guy,

gives Tolliver the opening
to make the boss Chink

look wrong in the eyes of the whites.

And he can go to war with me
and make me out a Chink lover.

What if my guy had
drawn the long straw?

I guess you'd have been
shit out of luck.

Mr. Adams don't think
there was a long straw.

Mr. Adams, Mr. Dority.

- Silas.
- Dan.

Silas, lift your lid.

Yeah.
Get a fucking haircut.

Looks like your mother
fucked a monkey.

Wu, here's that cocksucker
to apologize.

Say you're sorry, Jimmy.

Swedgin.

Yeah.

Swedgin hopes we ain't
signed ourselves up for killing too.

♪ And the hog of the forsaken ♪

♪ Got no reason to cry ♪

♪ He got to chew the angels
fallen from on high ♪

♪ He ain't waitin' for no answer ♪

♪ Bakin' woeful pie ♪

♪ Pie of eyesight, pie blue black ♪

♪ Whoa, that pie,
the pie of by and by ♪

♪ And the hog of the forsaken ♪

♪ Well, he ain't like you and I ♪

♪ With bones always breakin'
and no place to go lie ♪

♪ He sit in the bog so dark and wet ♪

♪ He got so much time ♪

♪ He ain't even worried yet ♪

♪ The hog of the forsaken ♪

♪ He is the pork of crime. ♪