MR. BLONDE
Waitressing is the number one
occupation for female non-college
graduates in this country. It's
the one jab basically any woman
can get, and make a living on.
The reason is because of tips.
MR. WHITE
Fuck all that.
They all laugh.
MR. WHITE
Hey, I'm very sorry that the
government taxes their tips.
That's fucked up. But that ain't
my fault. it would appear that
waitresses are just one of the
many groups the government fucks
in the ass on a regular basis.
You show me a paper says the
government shouldn't do that, I'll
sign it. Put it to a vote, I'll
vote for it. But what I won't do
is play ball. And this non-
college bullshit you're telling
me, I got two words for that:
"Learn to fuckin type." Cause if
you're expecting me to help out
with the rent, you're in for a big
fuckin surprise.
MR. ORANGE
He's convinced me. Give me my
dollar back.
Everybody laughs. Joe's comes back to the table.
JOE
Okay ramblers, let's get to
rambling. Wait a minute, who
didn't throw in?
MR. ORANGE
Mr. White.
JOE
(to Mr. Orange)
Mr. White?
(to Mr. White)
Why?
MR. ORANGE
He don't tip.
JOE
(to Mr. Orange)
He don't tip?
(to Mr. White)
You don't tip? Why?
MR. ORANGE
He don't believe in it.
JOE
(to Mr. Orange)
He don't believe in it?
(to Mr. White)
You don't believe in it?
MR. ORANGE
Nope.
JOE
(to Mr. Orange)
Shut up!
(to Mr. White)
Cough up the buck, ya cheap
bastard, I paid for your goddamn
breakfast.
MR. WHITE
Because you paid for the
breakfast, I'm gonna tip.
Normally I wouldn't.
JOE
Whatever. Just throw in your
dollar, and let's move.
(to Mr. Blonde)
See what I'm dealing with here.
Infants. I'm fuckin dealin with
infants.
The eight men get up to leave. Mr. White's waist is in
the F.G. As he buttons his coat, for a second we see he's
carrying a gun. They exit Uncle Bob's Pancake House,
talking amongst themselves.
best shit ever!!!
