badda bing|badda boom
The night I shot John Lithgow
I was a
gangster in
Tony Soprano's crew. A guy called Reggie had went for early retirement and we were having a big get together in his
remembrance. Tony had exploded into a rage because me and my two boys hadn't stood up when he toasted "Reggie". I explained to
Pussy that we didn't 'cause we weren't near the "big" table and thought we weren't invited to join in. So after a quick word in Tony's ear, Pussy gave us a wink and beckoned us to move towards the table. This time we stood.
The scene switches and I am by myself in front of a nondescript night sky blue sports car dressed up in an evening tuxedo. On the bonnet was a load of papers and lotsa money in envelopes. Apparently there had been a really big wedding and Paulie had assigned me to the task of protecting the money until someone came back to collect it. Paulie told me to protect it at all costs even if that meant with my life.
There was a guy who drove past but the moment I moved towards his car he sped off. Then after what seemed to be hours Tony's dodgy lawyer (John Lithgow) drove up. He was acting (no pun intended) very suspiciously and kept looking at the money. John explained that Tony had sent him to collect the money, I knew this was bullshit and thought to myself, "Yeah right, who sends a lawyer to collect money?"
As John lunged at the money I reach into my tux and shouted at him, "Back away from the money Mr. Lithgow!" He ignored me and continued to grab at the money. I pulled out my glock and pointed it into the back of his head and snarled, "John, don't dick around with me put the fucking money back!". He starts to reach for his inside pocket which aggravates me even more so I shoved the nuzzle of the pistol further into the back of his head. "Put your fucking hands up! Now! Now! Motherfucker!"
Still he doesn't utter a single word, this was it, one of us was gonna die. He sprang back and pulled out his little pea shooter it was one of those three or four barrelled jobbies. He fired two shots but missed. Then what seems to be re-occurring theme with any of my dreams which involving me having to shoot people, I fumbled with my pistol. Eventually I regained my composure and shoot a bullet straight into the chamber of the gun thereby destroying it. The next bullet hit John straight in the heart.
I did my job. I woke up.