"Ya shuddna aughter dunnit, Clyde."

"Ah had no choice."

"Ya dumb-ass hick."

"Don't ya go callin" me no names."

"Ah'll call ya anythin' I like. After what ya dun I aughter call the cops. Hell, I aughter call the Feds. Now git ya dumb ass behind the wheel o' they-at au-to-mo-beel 'n' draive."

"No, Ma'am, ya got no business a-sayin that. I had no choice."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Damn yer hide to blue-black Hell, Clyde Barrow, if ya ain't the orneriest son-of-bitch a body ever had to try and hold a conversation with."

"Well, damn yer hide too, Miss High and Mighty Bonny Parker, no drawers."

"No drawers! What ya saying you dirty-minded, no-account pecker-wood. Mor'n thay-at, what ya thinkin'? Ya playing pocket pool? Ya hand ain't been aht ya pants' pocket since ya shot that pore man."

"Ah didn't have no choice."

"Change the goddamned reckard willya, I dun heerd that wun. Ya shuddna shot him. He was jist sum no-account bank clerk who was dumb enough to think he could take on the Parker Gang."

"Say what?"

"The Parker Gang. I'm the brains o' this outfit, so I get's to give the gang ma name"

"Well, ain't that sumthin'."

"Get used to it. Ah'm the boss of this here gang."

"Sez who?"

"Sez me. An' get ya hand out ya pocket fur ya go blind. I do declare, you are in love with yaself. An heer wut ah'm sayin', ya shuddna shot him. You shudda jest punched his face. He gonna fi-aht back with his nose broke an all? No Sir. He's gonna give up theer and then. But oh no, some dumb-ass hick with a Po-leece Spesshul with a four inch barrel that's twice the size of his pecker has to up an shoot that pore man and leeve him oozing laife into the dust. Tha-it last part is what the noos papers is gonna write about it."

"No ma'am, no ma'am. It ain't fair or right wut ya' sayin'. My pecker is regulation size. I seed other peckers in the Pen so I know."

"Well you shudda told me "fore, you wuz a fairy-boy. I'da let tha' ole bank clerk climb in the back o' this here au-to-mo-beel and you two cudda got accquainted real friendly la-ike. 'Stead you cutting him down in his prime in a deadly hail o' bullets."

" 's only one bullet" "Don't matter none, youze a deadly killer Clyde Barrow. The po-leece is gonna hunt you dahn and shoot ya ass day-ed."

"Bonny. Iffun, I get shot up real bad would ya, ya know, finish it."

"Guess I would. Do as much for a dawg."