Danny Snyder:
I can't do this now. You gotta know that. It's been a long time for me. I mean -ah- you need somebody younger, ya know, somebody like I used to be.
King Benny:
younger is not better. Doesn't have experience, doesn't know his way around the courthouse.
Danny Snyder:
Hey, I'm lucky I can find the courthouse. I had only four cases last year-you know how many I won? None, that's how many, none. In two of them, uh, I, a, I think the jury blamed me personnally.
King Benny:
They must have been innocent. It is tough to get an innocent man off a rap.
Danny Snyder:
I wasn't even planning on going to court with this one. I was just gonna plea it down the best I could and walk away. I wasn't, I wasn't planning on taking this to trial.
King Benny:
Well your plans have been changed.
Danny Snyder:
Well I'm afraid I'll make a mistake and... say the wrong thing and, ya know, uh, uh, make a wrong turn somewhere. You don't want to take that risk.
King Benny:
Life is a risk.
Danny Snyder:
I'm sorry?
King Benny:
Life is risk.
Danny Snyder:
Life is a risk.
King Benny:
Um-huh.
Danny Snyder:
A-huh.I haven't been in here before. What do you need me to do?
King Benny:
Listen. You're going to be given the answers and the questions. All you have to do is read. You can read can't you?
Danny Snyder:
It's, it's, is it in English?
King Benny:
Just don't drift, don't drink, and don't lose.
Danny Snyder:
What if I do lose?
King Benny:
Then you'll go down for the dirt nap.
Danny Snyder:
Never heard that expression before... dirt nap. I'm not cut out for this anymore. I mean a guys gets hit by a bus, ya know, and sues. I like that. Some lady slips in a supermarket, I'm with her, a guy...
King Benny:
The discussion's over.
Danny Snyder:
I'm an alcoholic. This is a murder case. This isn't for me.
King Benny:
It was once. Before you let the drink lead. Be sober by tomorrow and don't look so worried, Snyder. You have nothing to lose, just like the rest of us.
Danny Snyder:
I don't want to be a burden to you, but, I do, you know, aside, or along with my alcohol problem, I have a slight drug problem, I mean nothing big, just...
King Benny:
Go away.
Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he'd somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.
Attempts to locate oneself within history are as natural, and as absurd, as attempts to locate oneself within astronomy. On the day that I was born, 13 April 1949, nineteen senior Nazi officials were convicted at Nuremberg, including Hitler's former envoy to the Vatican, Baron Ernst von Weizsacker, who was found guilty of planning aggression against Czechoslovakia and committing atrocities against the Jewish people. On the same day, the State of Israel celebrated its first Passover seder and the United Nations, still meeting in those days at Flushing Meadow in Queens, voted to consider the Jewish state's application for membership. In Damascus, eleven newspapers were closed by the regime of General Hosni Zayim. In America, the National Committee on Alcoholism announced an upcoming 'A-Day' under the non-uplifting slogan: 'You can drink
You know that movie, where the little boy says 'I see dead people'?
The Sixth Sense.
Well, I see them all the time, and I'm getting tired of it. That's what's ruined my mood. Here it is, almost Christmas, and I didn't even think about putting up a tree, because I'm still seeing the autopsy lab in my head. I'm still smelling it on my hands. I come home on a day like this, after two postmortems, and I can't think about cooking dinner. I can't even look at a piece of meat without thinking of muscle fibers. All I can deal with is a cocktail. And then I pour the drink and smell the alcohol, and suddenly there I am, back in the lab. Alcohol, formalin, they both have that same sharp smell.