Ready your Redneck Faraday "Box!"

Well, I'm rollin' down the road in my model A Fo'd
Goin' to Jericho cuz the empty pint said so.
With a pair of .45's and a thousand rounds,
I ain't goin' to need no Rangers to clear out this whole damn town.

I'm Smith, an' I'm from Back East.
Yeah, I'm bad John Smith, an' I'm from Back East . . . .
 
Jamie came back, with a vengeance.


Finn caught it . . . he was too stoopid.


Hickey's still out cruisin' dirt roads in his Pierce Arrow.


He's one of the blondes in the back - the spike heels are debatable.
 
Brunettes seem to abound in the hyah parts.


Latinas, squaws . . . except for the Chicago polack imports.


And the ginger girl at the cathouse.


Hain't nivver bin tuh Nawlinz . . . .
 
The girl may be deep back inside Mexico by now, but it's not fair to say that her box is square.


Even if she is stuck with Doyle.


The squaw came along of her own volition.
 
... and that mangy redbone hound?



I reckon he's got no place to go either. Might as well ride along with us. Everyone else is...

*spit*
 
Plenty of straight metal left on it.

I think we can save her. The mushed head? No so much.
 
Yeah, it can be saved.


It needs a v8 to be an AV8.


But it's the insult that can't be forgiven, and Finn's arrogance.


This is gonna hurt . . . a lot. Him, not me :D
 
Sanjuro: You're all tough, then?
Gambler: What? Kill me if you can!
Sanjuro: It'll hurt.

Sanjuro: [after the gamblers have challenged him] No help for fools.
[draws sword and kills two of them]

[Sanjuro has just killed two men and cut the arm off a third]
Sanjuro: Cooper. Two coffins... No, maybe three.
 
Hey, you making some kind of joke?


Mmmm, no, I see that you men were just playing around. But the mule, he just doesn't get it. Of course, if you were all to apologize . . . .


I don't think it's nice, you laughin' . . . .


It's gonna hurt if I do . . . .
 
And we ain't never killed nobody who, by our standards, didn't need killin'.


Off to lay a ceramic floor.


I can hardly wait.


And the Watian Stimulus keeps on stimulatin' . . . .
 
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