Copperhead:
Look, if I could go back in a machine, I would. But I can't. All can tell you is that I'm a different person now.
The Bride:
Oh great. I don't care.
Copperhead:
Be that as it may, I know I don't deserve your mercy or your forgiveness. However, I beseech you for both on behalf of my daughter.
The Bride:
Bitch, you can stop right there. Just because I have no wish to murder you in front of your daughter doesn't mean that parading her around in front of me will inspire sympathy. You and I have unfinished business. And not a goddamned thing you've done in the subsequent four years including getting knocked up is going to change that.
Copperhead:
So when do we do this?
The Bride:
It all depends. When do you want to die? Tomorrow? The day after tomorrow?
Copperhead:
How about tonight, bitch?
The Bride:
Splendid. Where?
Copperhead:
There's a baseball diamond where I coach Little League about a mile from here. We meet there around two-thirty in the morning dressed all in black. Your hair in a black stocking. And we have us a knife fight. We won't be bothered. Now... I have to fix Nikki's cereal.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 09:35
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