(Remembering his first bakery job as a young lad in New York City. Transcribed w/ Brooklyn accent).
"He broke the brand new gold-framed glasses my grandmother gave me. You ever get hit with bagel dough? That stuff's hard as a rock. Any kind of dough you boil has to be hard as a fucking rock."
"I pushed a 30-foot stack of crates over on him, but the motherfucker took off running. He didn't come back to the bakery for two days. Finally, his mother called and asked to talk to the manager. She said 'You tell them not to kill my son.'"
"So the manager tells me that I can't kill him, and I say 'Oh NO? That motherfucker's dead.'"