- Pick-up Guy: [sitting at the counter inside the Tarasco Bar] This reminds me of a joke. This guy comes into a bar, walks up to the bartender. Says, "Bartender, I got me a bet for you. I'm gonna bet you $300 that I can piss into that glass over there and not spill a single, solitary drop." The bartender looks. I mean, we're talking, like, this glass is like a good ten feet away. He says, "Now wait, let me get this strait. You're tryin' to tell me you'll bet me $300 that you can piss, standing over here, way over there into that glass, and not spill a single drop?" Customer looks up and says, "That's right." Bartender says, "Young man, you got a bet." The guy goes, "Okay, here we go. Here we go." Pulls out his thing. He's lookin' at the glass, man. He's thinkin' about the glass. He's thinkin' about the glass. Glass. He's thinkin' about the glass, glass. Thinkin' about his dick. Dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass. And then, *foosh*, he lets it rip. And he-he's pisses all over the place, man. He's pissin' on the bar. He pissin' on the stools, on the floor, on the phone, on the bartender! He's pissing everywhere *except* the fucking glass! Right? Okay. So, bartender, he's laughing his fuckin' ass off. He's $300 richer. He's like, "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" Piss dripping off his face. "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" He says, "You fucking idiot, man! You got it in everything except the glass! You owe me $300 punta." Guy goes, "Excuse me just one-one little second." Goes in the back of the bar. In back, there's a couple of guys playing pool. He walks over to them. Comes back to the bar. Goes, "Here you go, Mr. Bartender, 300." And the bartender's like, "What the fuck are you so happy about? You just lost $300, idiot!" The guy says, "Well, see those guys over there? I just bet them $500 a piece that I could piss on your bar, piss on your floor, piss on your phone, and piss on you, and not only would you not be mad about it, you'd be happy."
- El Mariachi: You know, it's easier to pull the trigger than play guitar. Easier to destroy than to create.
- [first lines]
- Short Bartender: What do you want?
- Buscemi: Beer.
- Short Bartender: All I got is piss-warm Chango.
- Buscemi: That's my brand. Oh, this is damn good! Say, this is the best beer I've ever had. Actually...
- Short Bartender: [ignoring him] You need anything over there?
- Buscemi: I'm just glad to be alive right now. I was up a few towns away- you know Saragosa? I was visiting a bar there, not unlike this one. They serve beer, not quite as good as this, but close. And I saw something you wouldn't believe. I'm sitting there, see, small table all by myself. Now this bar, it's full of real low-lives. I mean, not like this place here. No, I mean bad. Like they were up to no good, know what I'm sayin'? Anyway, I'm all by myself, I like it that way. Meanwhile, things are going on... under the table kinds of things. Not too obvious, but, not too secret, either. So, I'm sitting there, and in walks the biggest Mexican I have ever seen. Big as shit. Just walks right in like he owns the place. Now, nobody knew quite what to make of him, or quite what to think. There he was and in he walked. He was dark, too. I don't mean dark-skinned. No, this was different. It was as if he was always walking in a shadow. I mean every step he took towards the light, just when you thought his face was about to be revealed, it wasn't. It was as if the lights dimmed, just for him.
- [El has just walked out of the confessional booth]
- Priest: Did you want confession?
- El Mariachi: Heh? Well, maybe later, Father. 'Cause where I am going, I'd just have to come right back.
- El Mariachi: [right before a firefight] Back together again, huh?
- Campa: Yeah.
- El Mariachi: [cracks neck] Let's play.
- El Mariachi: [to the short bartender] I'm looking for a man who calls himself Bucho. That's all. And you had to do it the hard way.
- Short Bartender: [nervous, from behind the counter] Is there something in the guitar case?
- El Mariachi: Yeah.
- Short Bartender: What?
- El Mariachi: My guitar.
- Buscemi: Just try and keep it from turning into a fucking bloodbath, all right? Not like last time.
- El Mariachi: [lying on the bed in his hotel room] That one wasn't my fault.
- Buscemi: Well, of course not.
- El Mariachi: [lying on the bed in his hotel room] No, they started it.
- Tourist Girl: And, your beer tastes like piss.
- Short Bartender: [from behind the counter] We know!
- Tavo: [hunched over the counter inside the Tarasco Bar] 'Cause we piss in it!
- Short Bartender: That's not all!
- [telling a story]
- Buscemi: [sitting at the counter inside the Tarasco Bar] The stranger shot him, walked over to the bartender, paid, and left.
- Short Bartender: So the bartender lived?
- [laughing]
- Short Bartender: The bartender never gets killed!
- Buscemi: But as the stranger neared the door...
- [Bartender pulls a shotgun. Stranger shoots bartender]
- Buscemi: No man, bartender got it worse than anybody.
- Short Bartender: He ordered a soda pop?
- Buscemi: Now, I wasn't interested in his drink. No, I was more interested in what he carrying when he walked in. It was some sort of a suitcase, kind of heavy. And he sat that thing on a stool beside him as if it were his girl.
- Buscemi: What happens when he's dead?
- El Mariachi: [lying on the bed in his hotel room] When Bucho's dead... it's over. He is the last one.
- Buscemi: End of payback? An eye for an eye and all that crap? You finally gonna be satisfied?
- El Mariachi: I think so.
- Buscemi: I hope so. 'Cause, I don't have the stomach for this anymore.
- El Mariachi: You never did.
- Buscemi: [before leaving his hotel room] Neither did you.
- Buscemi: Suddenly they got very interested in who you were. So, I laid the story down nice and thick.
- El Mariachi: [lying on the bed in his hotel room] How thick?
- Buscemi: Well, pretty thick, I told 'em you were the biggest Mexican I've ever seen...
- [the mariachi comes back for the guitar-case of weapons that he just threw away]
- El Mariachi: Just in case. It's a long ride to the next town.
- [customers enter a bar littered with corpses]
- Bucho: [irritated, yelling at the tourists] Can't you see that we are fucking closed?
- [Talking about his bar]
- Short Bartender: Bad beer, bad service. Don't people know not to come in here?
- El Mariachi: Suddenly you're my big brother.
- Buscemi: Well I do feel some responsibility for you, yeah.
- Bucho: [talking to his henchmen] It's one thing if you can't find someone running around the city hiding any place he chooses. I can understand that. What I can't understand is how you let him get away when you knew where he was! Now you drive around town. You see someone you don't know, you shoot them. How hard is that, huh?
- [takes gun from Right Arm]
- Bucho: Look over there.
- [the henchmen look in different directions, unsure of where "over there" is]
- Bucho: I don't know him. Never seen him before.
- [the henchmen part, revealing Shrug]
- Bucho: Look, he has a gun!
- Shrug: [looks down at the gun tucked into his belt in dismay]
- Bucho: Must be him!
- Shrug: Hey...
- Bucho: [shoots Shrug, then returns the gun to Right Arm] Now, how hard is that? It's that easy.
- El Mariachi: [while in her bookstore] I have to go to church.
- Carolina: What for?
- El Mariachi: Confess my sins. I'm a sinner.
- Carolina: I know.
- Buscemi: [testing his patience and if he wanted to hear more of the story] Can I get a cleaner mug? This one's dirty.
- Short Bartender: Fuck you man! That's the cleanest one I got!
- Tavo: [in Spanish] How much in dollars?
- Short Bartender: [in Spanish; counts] 18,000.
- Tavo: [in Spanish] Fuck. Should we pay him or kill him? More for us...
- Short Bartender: [from behind the counter] I have a house payment.
- Tavo, Short Bartender: [in Spanish] Kill 'em.
- Buscemi: [sitting at the counter inside the Tarasco Bar] So, anyway, without warning, without any hint or preview, the stranger whips around, and he sees... me.
- Short Bartender: You saw his face?
- Buscemi: His face? No. His eyes.
- Buscemi: [to the El Mariachi after he puts one of his guns underneath his pillow] One of these days you're going to lay too hard on that thing and blow your brains out.
- Bucho: [to El Mariachi, as they stare each other down] You come to kill me? Let me tell you something. You have already killed me!
- Carolina: You'll never find work in this town.
- El Mariachi: What?
- Carolina: Guitar. Nobody hires musicians around here.
- El Mariachi: I know. I use it to pick up girls.
- Priest: Did you want confession?
- El Mariachi: Eh? Maybe later, Father; because where I am going, l'd just have to come right back.
- Tavo: [watching the bar shootout on a surveillance camera in a secret counting room] What the fuck's goin' on?
- Pick-up Guy: Is that goin' on right now?
- Buscemi: All of a sudden, the bastard spoke. He started talking all whispery to the bartender and you know he was talkin' business because whatever he said upset the bartender. Especially when he mentioned - eh - oh, he said something like - "bitch" or - "Bucho." That's what it was. Bucho!
- Niño: I wanted to see the guitar.
- El Mariachi: Do you play?
- Niño: Yes, do you?
- El Mariachi: A little bit.
- Niño: Play something.
- El Mariachi: Not right now.
- Niño: This is my father's, but he doesn't play anymore.
- El Mariachi: No?
- Niño: There's not that much work for a mariachi these days. Now he just watches TV.
- El Mariachi: I'm sorry to hear that.
- Niño: He was never that good anyway.
- Buscemi: It was amazing. Cutthroat scumbags were coming out of the woodwork and dying much-deserved deaths. Now, don't get me wrong, this was no class-act group of guys like you got in here. Not at all. No, these guys were world-class turds and I'm sorry, but they got what they deserved. It was Judgment Night in that place.
- Carolina: I know who you are.
- El Mariachi: Really?
- Carolina: You're that guy you always hear stories about. You kill drug dealers.
- El Mariachi: I'm looking for Bucho. Do you know him?
- Carolina: I used some of the money to keep this place open. And I stashed the rest, thinking - if some day things got really bad here, l'd have the money to leave. But I can't leave. Because once you're in, you can't get out.
- Right Hand: There's someone else out there. I know there is! And I want to find him now.
- Bucho: Who else is there? The guitar player? The guy is a myth, man. A myth.
- Carolina: We can improvise. I can help you.
- El Mariachi: Improvise?
- Carolina: Yeah.
- El Mariachi: Do you play?
- Carolina: Um. A little.
- [they improvise]
- Bucho: You are a guitar player. What the fuck is a guitar player doing killing my men, ruining my business?
- Carolina: It may not matter to you, but he'll follow me everywhere I go until I'm dead.
- El Mariachi: It does matter to me.