Hey, look, relax. You’re not dealing so he can’t have anything on you. That’s not possible. This is the way this guy is. He’s on a god damn fishing exhibition.

Hey, remember me? Benny Blanco From The Bronx?

I know how this dream ends, Charlie. It isn’t in paradise. It ends with me carrying you into Sutton Emergency Room at three o’clock in the morning. And standing there, crying like an idiot... while you’re shoes fill with blood and you die.

I mean, I don’t judge you. You know, Charlie. And what do you do that’s so wonderful? You ever kill anybody, Charlie?

I’M RELOADED! Come on in here, motherfuckers! Come on, I’m waitin’ for ya! You ain’t comin’ in? I’m comin’ out! You’re up against it now, motherfuckers! I’m gonna blow your fuckin’ brains out! You think you’re big time? You’re gonna fuckin’ die big time! You ready? Here comes the pain!

My name is Benny Blanco from the Bronx.

No favour. I owe you. Favour gonna kill you faster than a bullet.

Oh, Jesus. Jesus Christ, look at you. You said they were friends, Guajiro. But there ain’t no friends in this shit business.

Okay, Benny Blanco from the Bronx. The chick Steffie belongs to the club. Now if I ever, I mean if I ever, see you here again you die, just like that.

Somebody’s pullin’ me close to the ground. I can sense, but I can’t see. I ain’t panicked, I been here before. Same as when I got popped on 104th Street. Don’t take me to no hospital, please. Fuckin’ emergency rooms don’t save nobody. Sons of bitches always pop you at midnight when all they got is a Chinese intern with a dull spoon.

Sorry, boys, all the stitches in the world can’t sew me together again... Lay down. Lay down. Gonna stretch me out in Fernandez Funeral Home on 109th street... Always knew I’d make a stop there, but a lot later than a whole gang of people thought. Last of the Mo-Rican’s. Well, maybe not the last. Gail’s gonna be a good mom. New, improved Carlito Brigante. Hope she uses the money to get out. No room in this city for big hearts like hers... Sorry, baby, I tried the best I could. Honest. Can’t come with me on this trip, though... Gettin’ the shakes now. Last call for drinks. Bar’s closin’ down. Sun’s out. Where we goin’ for breakfast? Don’t wanna go far... Rough night. Tired, baby... Tired...

The dream don't come no closer by itself. We gotta run after it now.

This guy, this counsellor in Lewisburg, Mr Seawald, once said to me: “Charlie, you run out of steam. You can’t sprint all the way. You gotta stop sometime. You can’t buck it forever. It catches up to you. It gets you. You don’t get reformed, you just run out of wind.”

Times have changed. What happened to the miniskirts? Where’s all that marijuana? Now everything is platforms, cocaine, and dances I don’t dance. What a man gotta come to when he loses five years.

When you can’t see the angles no more, you’re in trouble, baby. You’re in trouble.