SO. I hear some Kooky Canucks are making some gonzo flick about a killer gorilla or some nutso thing like that. Even worse, there are characters in this lump that seem to be obsessed with the golden days when my pallies and I ruled Vegas. Vegas bein' the whole stinkin' planet, baby.
What the hell makes you think you can get off talking about me like some kinda Clyde? Especially that broad. Yeah, I'm talkin to you, Mimsy. What happened to chicks with class? With charm? Who knew when to shut the ol' martini hole? Wha? Excuse me a second...
What's up Sammy? How's your bird? You need some water? Turned to wine? Naw, that's the other kid's gig. Y'know, the one who dresses in them flowing white robes and has a beard like some hippie freak...What's that?...Naw, Sam. Don't apologize. Don't cry your eye out, hah, hah. You were right to come to me first. But yeah, that's the kid. He'll do it. And Sam, don't forget to duke the kid, OK? ...Yeah, it doesn't hurt to be in with his Pop...By the way, where's Dag?...Again, huh?...Yeah, I fucking hate golf too.
Anyway batty chick, you think I'm gonna just sit still and let you kick me in the nest for a smile? No way is that goin' down around here, lady. No dice. Not even when I'm comin to ya from the Big Casino in the Sky. You want a movie? Here's one that'll get the attention of those bozos who hand out the gold guys. Here goes dynamite: The new "Ocean's 11"? That Clooney kid's allright. There you go chickie chick. Print that. And remember: Be a good little doll. It's Frank's Universe. He just lets you live in it.