garcianacho/Scripts · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 1 3.04k
I know what I'm asking. Your compensation will be appropriate to the risk. You'll need cash to buy information, and I'll provide it. I feel responsible, Mr. Welles. You saw what he did to her.
Okay...
My husband never dealt with money personally, certainly not cash.
I'm not positive this means anything.
The checks were for odd amounts...
One was for two hundred thousand, one dollar and thirteen cents. Another was for three hundred thousand, six hundred fifty four dollars and seventy six cents...
Okay, I follow you so far...
Totalled together, these five checks from five different accounts, they equal one million dollars.
You're joking.
To the penny. Exactly one million dollars in cash.
Hello... ?
I'm here.
Do you think the film could have cost that much?
For a human life... murder on film, no statute of limitations. Who knows? It sure could have. I'd like you to overnight me a copy of those checks, then put them in a safe deposit box.
Okay.
Send it to me through the post office like we arranged. No return address. You dug this up all by yourself?
You told me to look, so I looked.
You're one hell of a detective, Mrs. Christian.
Hello?
Mrs. Christian, Tom Welles here.
How are you? Having any luck?
I don't know if luck's the word. Are you feeling alright?
I've been ordered into bed. The doctor says I've gotten the flu, or some other wretched ailment.
I hope it's nothing serious.
Nothing more than a bother. Have you any news for me?
I've made progress. I'm in Manhattan. Once a few more pieces fall into place, I'll drive to you and give you an update.
Fine...
I've got about five thousand left in cash, but I'll need another thirty, if you approve.
How will I get it to you?
If you have a pencil and paper, I'll tell you how to send it.
Big date tonight?
Yeah... guess so.
Can I interest you in a battery operatedvagina?
Pardon me?
My boss tells me I have to do more suggestive selling.
Well, it's tempting, but no thanks.
It's your call, but you're gonna be sorry when you're in one of those everyday situations that call for a batteryoperated vagina and you don't have one.
I'll risk it.
Once you pick it up you can't put it down.
Catchy title. What are you really reading? Hard to believe that book's got any parts worth highlighting.
Truman Capote.
I tear off the cover and paste this one on... You know how it is.
Wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of your fellow perverts.
Might get drummed out of the pornographer's union, and then where would I be?
Remember me?
Came back for that batteryoperated vagina, right? Told you you would.
I need some information. Thought you might be able to help.
Thomas Welles. Nice picture.
I don't know what you're looking for, mister, but so we're clear from the start, I'm straight.
Good for you.
How long you been working there?
Three, four years.
What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?
Max.
Well, here's the deal, Max. This thing I'm on right now has something to do with underground pornography. Stuff that's sold under the counter, illegally...
There's not much illegal.
Well, whatever there is, whoever's dealing, however it's done, I want to know. I want a good look, so if you've got that kind of connection, great. If not, speak now.
You're not a cop, are you? If I ask and you are, you have to tell me.
I'm not a cop.
You're a private eye. Like Shaft.
Not quite.
From Pennsylvania. P.I. from PA. What are you doing out here?
Well, there's the thing; you're not gonna know anything about what I'm doing, but you can make some money.
How much?
How much do you make now?
Four hundred a week, off the books.
Okay, let's pretend I live in the same fantasy world where you make four hundred a week in that dump. I'll give you six hundred for a few days.
Sounds good, pops.
Here's my number if you need it... When can you start?
Tomorrow night, I get off at eight.
See you then. Oh, and, don't call me "pops."
... Hello... ?
Wake up, pops. Your education begins tonight.
You've got Penthouse, Playboy, Hustler, etc. Nobody even considers them pornography anymore. Then, there's mainstream hardcore. Triple X. The difference is penetration. That's hardcore. That whole industry's up in the valley. Writers, directors, porn stars. They're celebrities, or they think they are. They pump out 150 videos a week. A week. They've even got a porno Academy Awards. America loves pornography. Anybody tells you they never use pornography, they're lying. Somebody's buying those videos. Somebody's out there spending 900 million dollars a year on phone sex. Know what else? It's only gonna get worse. More and more you'll see perverse hardcore coming into the mainstream, because that's evolution. Desensitization. Oh my God, Elvis Presley's wiggling his hips, how offensive! Nowadays, Mtv's showing girls dancing around in thong bikinis with their asses hanging out. Know what I mean? For the pornaddict, big tits aren't big enough after a while. They have to be the biggest tits ever. Some porn chicks are putting in breast implants bigger than your head, literally. Soon, Playboy is gonna be Penthouse, Penthouse'll be Hustler, Hustler'll be hardcore, and hardcore films'll be medical films. People'll be jerking off to women laying around with open wounds. There's nowhere else for it to go.
Interesting theory.
What you saw tonight, we're not talking about a video some dentist takes home over the weekend. We're talking about stuff where people get hurt. Specialty product.
Child pornography.
There's two kinds of specialty product; legal and illegal. Foot fetish, shit films, watersports, bondage, spanking, fisting, she males, hemaphrodites... it's beyond hardcore, but legal. This is the kind of hardcore where one guy's going to look at it and throw up, another guy looks at it and falls in love. Now, with some of the S+M and bondage films, they straddle the line. How are you supposed to tell if the person tied up with the ball gag in their mouth is a consenting or not? Step over that line, you're into kiddie porn. Rape films, but there aren't many. I've never seen one.
Snuff films.
I heard you asking. That guy wasn't yanking you around. There's no such thing.
What other ways are there to get illegal films? Who do you see?
First of all, basement sales like tonight aren't gonna last much longer. It's too risky, one, and two, everything's going on the internet. Anyone with a computer and enough patience can find anything he wants. It's heaven for those degenerate chickenhawks. They're swapping pictures back and forth as fast as their modems can zap 'em. But, there's still some weird shit under the counter where I work sometimes. No one knows where it comes from. That's local underground, where information spreads by word of mouth. Those are zombies, hardcore junkies. Their hands are permanently pruned. They go out in the sun they don't burn, they blister. Other than that, all I know about is the mail. Classified ads in the paper with hidden codes. Secret couriers. Credit card orders to dummy corporations. Interstate wire transfers. Revolving P.O. boxes. But, if you're asking me who do you go to to get illegal shit... who knows? That's the whole point the seller stays as far away from the buyer as possible, and vice versa, and cops can't trace the deal. There's ways to do it so nobody knows who anybody is.
How old are you?
Twentyfive.
Where are your parents?
I don't know, where are yours?
I don't mean any offense... but what are you doing mixed up in all this?
I'm not mixed up in anything, hayseed. What are you talking about?
You just strike me as smart enough to be doing something else.
Yeah, I'm a real genius. What choices have I got? Fuck, just because I know about stuff like tonight doesn't mean I deal it. I work a job. It beats pumping gas, beats making hamburgers.
You're telling me it doesn't get to you?
You can't sit there all day watching the parade of losers that comes into that place without going numb. So what? Am I gonna go off and be a race car driver? Go to Harvard? Run for President? What about you, pops?
What about me?
I see a ring on your finger. You have any kids?
A daughter.
So, you have a wife and kid waiting for you in Pennsylvania... what are you doing mixed up in all this?
Good question.
Dino Velvet... yeah, he's like the John Luc Godard of S+M flicks, supposed to be a real weirdo.
A weirdo making S+M films? Who'd have thought it?
His stuff comes out of New York. Bondage and fetish videos, Gothic Hardcore. Definitely not for the squeamish.

I know what I'm asking. Your compensation will be appropriate to the risk. You'll need cash to buy information, and I'll provide it. I feel responsible, Mr. Welles. You saw what he did to her.

Okay...

My husband never dealt with money personally, certainly not cash.

I'm not positive this means anything.

The checks were for odd amounts...

One was for two hundred thousand, one dollar and thirteen cents. Another was for three hundred thousand, six hundred fifty four dollars and seventy six cents...

Okay, I follow you so far...

Totalled together, these five checks from five different accounts, they equal one million dollars.

You're joking.

To the penny. Exactly one million dollars in cash.

Hello... ?

I'm here.

Do you think the film could have cost that much?

For a human life... murder on film, no statute of limitations. Who knows? It sure could have. I'd like you to overnight me a copy of those checks, then put them in a safe deposit box.

Okay.

Send it to me through the post office like we arranged. No return address. You dug this up all by yourself?

You told me to look, so I looked.

You're one hell of a detective, Mrs. Christian.

Hello?

Mrs. Christian, Tom Welles here.

How are you? Having any luck?

I don't know if luck's the word. Are you feeling alright?

I've been ordered into bed. The doctor says I've gotten the flu, or some other wretched ailment.

I hope it's nothing serious.

Nothing more than a bother. Have you any news for me?

I've made progress. I'm in Manhattan. Once a few more pieces fall into place, I'll drive to you and give you an update.

Fine...

I've got about five thousand left in cash, but I'll need another thirty, if you approve.

How will I get it to you?

If you have a pencil and paper, I'll tell you how to send it.

Big date tonight?

Yeah... guess so.

Can I interest you in a battery operatedvagina?

Pardon me?

My boss tells me I have to do more suggestive selling.

Well, it's tempting, but no thanks.

It's your call, but you're gonna be sorry when you're in one of those everyday situations that call for a batteryoperated vagina and you don't have one.

I'll risk it.

Once you pick it up you can't put it down.

Catchy title. What are you really reading? Hard to believe that book's got any parts worth highlighting.

Truman Capote.

I tear off the cover and paste this one on... You know how it is.

Wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of your fellow perverts.

Might get drummed out of the pornographer's union, and then where would I be?

Remember me?

Came back for that batteryoperated vagina, right? Told you you would.

I need some information. Thought you might be able to help.

Thomas Welles. Nice picture.

I don't know what you're looking for, mister, but so we're clear from the start, I'm straight.

Good for you.

How long you been working there?

Three, four years.

What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?

Max.

Well, here's the deal, Max. This thing I'm on right now has something to do with underground pornography. Stuff that's sold under the counter, illegally...

There's not much illegal.

Well, whatever there is, whoever's dealing, however it's done, I want to know. I want a good look, so if you've got that kind of connection, great. If not, speak now.

You're not a cop, are you? If I ask and you are, you have to tell me.

I'm not a cop.

You're a private eye. Like Shaft.

Not quite.

From Pennsylvania. P.I. from PA. What are you doing out here?

Well, there's the thing; you're not gonna know anything about what I'm doing, but you can make some money.

How much?

How much do you make now?

Four hundred a week, off the books.

Okay, let's pretend I live in the same fantasy world where you make four hundred a week in that dump. I'll give you six hundred for a few days.

Sounds good, pops.

Here's my number if you need it... When can you start?

Tomorrow night, I get off at eight.

See you then. Oh, and, don't call me "pops."

... Hello... ?

Wake up, pops. Your education begins tonight.

You've got Penthouse, Playboy, Hustler, etc. Nobody even considers them pornography anymore. Then, there's mainstream hardcore. Triple X. The difference is penetration. That's hardcore. That whole industry's up in the valley. Writers, directors, porn stars. They're celebrities, or they think they are. They pump out 150 videos a week. A week. They've even got a porno Academy Awards. America loves pornography. Anybody tells you they never use pornography, they're lying. Somebody's buying those videos. Somebody's out there spending 900 million dollars a year on phone sex. Know what else? It's only gonna get worse. More and more you'll see perverse hardcore coming into the mainstream, because that's evolution. Desensitization. Oh my God, Elvis Presley's wiggling his hips, how offensive! Nowadays, Mtv's showing girls dancing around in thong bikinis with their asses hanging out. Know what I mean? For the pornaddict, big tits aren't big enough after a while. They have to be the biggest tits ever. Some porn chicks are putting in breast implants bigger than your head, literally. Soon, Playboy is gonna be Penthouse, Penthouse'll be Hustler, Hustler'll be hardcore, and hardcore films'll be medical films. People'll be jerking off to women laying around with open wounds. There's nowhere else for it to go.

Interesting theory.

What you saw tonight, we're not talking about a video some dentist takes home over the weekend. We're talking about stuff where people get hurt. Specialty product.

Child pornography.

There's two kinds of specialty product; legal and illegal. Foot fetish, shit films, watersports, bondage, spanking, fisting, she males, hemaphrodites... it's beyond hardcore, but legal. This is the kind of hardcore where one guy's going to look at it and throw up, another guy looks at it and falls in love. Now, with some of the S+M and bondage films, they straddle the line. How are you supposed to tell if the person tied up with the ball gag in their mouth is a consenting or not? Step over that line, you're into kiddie porn. Rape films, but there aren't many. I've never seen one.

Snuff films.

I heard you asking. That guy wasn't yanking you around. There's no such thing.

What other ways are there to get illegal films? Who do you see?

First of all, basement sales like tonight aren't gonna last much longer. It's too risky, one, and two, everything's going on the internet. Anyone with a computer and enough patience can find anything he wants. It's heaven for those degenerate chickenhawks. They're swapping pictures back and forth as fast as their modems can zap 'em. But, there's still some weird shit under the counter where I work sometimes. No one knows where it comes from. That's local underground, where information spreads by word of mouth. Those are zombies, hardcore junkies. Their hands are permanently pruned. They go out in the sun they don't burn, they blister. Other than that, all I know about is the mail. Classified ads in the paper with hidden codes. Secret couriers. Credit card orders to dummy corporations. Interstate wire transfers. Revolving P.O. boxes. But, if you're asking me who do you go to to get illegal shit... who knows? That's the whole point the seller stays as far away from the buyer as possible, and vice versa, and cops can't trace the deal. There's ways to do it so nobody knows who anybody is.

How old are you?

Twentyfive.

Where are your parents?

I don't know, where are yours?

I don't mean any offense... but what are you doing mixed up in all this?

I'm not mixed up in anything, hayseed. What are you talking about?

You just strike me as smart enough to be doing something else.

Yeah, I'm a real genius. What choices have I got? Fuck, just because I know about stuff like tonight doesn't mean I deal it. I work a job. It beats pumping gas, beats making hamburgers.

You're telling me it doesn't get to you?

You can't sit there all day watching the parade of losers that comes into that place without going numb. So what? Am I gonna go off and be a race car driver? Go to Harvard? Run for President? What about you, pops?

What about me?

I see a ring on your finger. You have any kids?

A daughter.

So, you have a wife and kid waiting for you in Pennsylvania... what are you doing mixed up in all this?

Good question.

Dino Velvet... yeah, he's like the John Luc Godard of S+M flicks, supposed to be a real weirdo.

A weirdo making S+M films? Who'd have thought it?

His stuff comes out of New York. Bondage and fetish videos, Gothic Hardcore. Definitely not for the squeamish.