Wild at Heart and weird on top

EXT. FORTUNE HOUSE - BACKYARD - LATE AFTERNOON/EVENING
Marietta is escorting Marcello Santos and two stiff drinks to a table in her backyard.
Marietta: I want you to take care of Sailor, so he won't ever be able to bother my baby again.
Santos: Take care of him?
Marietta: Yes.
Santos: What does take care of him mean?... Do you want me to give him food or some clothing?....

Santos: Shoot Sailor in the head with a gun... Now I'm beginning to get it... You want me to shoot Sailor in the head with a gun.
Marietta: Yes.
Santos: But where in the head?... Not the chin, I hope.
Marietta: No... In the brains... What little I'm sure he has.
Santos: You want me to shoot Sailor in the brains with a gun.
Marietta: Yes.
Santos: Through the forehead?
Marietta: Yes.
Santos: Wrong! It's much better to blow a hole in the back of the head ... right toward the bridge of the nose ... Lots and lots of irreparable damage.

INT. CAPE FEAR HOTEL - NIGHT
Sailor: It ain't altogether terrible just to let things go along sometimes. Lula, I done a few things in my life I ain't too proud of, but I'll tell ya from now on I ain't gonna do nothin' for no good reason. All I know for sure is there's more'n a few bad ideas runnin' around loose out there.

INT. BAR - BACK OF "THE HURRICANE" - NIGHT
Lula: (howls) Jesus, honey! ... You better run me back to the hotel, baby... You got me hotter'n Georgia asphalt.
Sailor: Say no more... But go easy on me, sweetheart... Tomorrow we got a lotta drivin' to do. (he takes out a cigarette and laughs) Hotter'n Georgia asphalt?
ECU of match striking and bursting into flames.
WHITE OUT

INT. MR. REINDEER'S POSH NEW ORLEANS RESIDENCE - NIGHT
An old man, Mr. Reindeer, wearing a tuxedo is sitting on the toilet - his pants down - talking on the bathroom phone. He laughs a long deep smoker's laugh.
Mr. Reindeer: (laughing) Mr. Marcello Santos... Hey there... That was great shit you sent in last month...
CUT TO:
EXT. ROADSIDE PAYPHONE - NIGHT
Santos: I gotta problem... In fact, I gotta coupl'a problems...
CUT TO:
INT. MR. REINDEER'S POSH NEW ORLEANS RESIDENCE - NIGHT
Mr. Reindeer: (laughs again) Gotta coupl'a problems, huh?... For each problem drop a silver dollar through my mail slot... With all particulars... We'll work out "il conto" later...

INT. MR. REINDEER'S POSH NEW ORLEANS RESIDENCE - DAY
Mr. Reindeer is just finishing dialing a number on the telephone.
Mr. Reindeer: A coupl'a silver dollars came my way today... I'm sending one of them to you with a paper on the beneficiary ... As usual, you are completely free to fulfill the obligation in any manner you so desire.
He hangs up the phone and starts dialing another number.