the Wrigley Field bit.
- Yeah, real cute.
Hi, Sam.
Hi. Has my friend arrived yet?
He failed to report in yesterday.
I don't want trouble.
Tell us where they are,
and there'll be no trouble.
Stand back.
It's almost 9:00.
We've gotta go to work.
Hello, Elwood. Sit down.
What's on your mind?
I gotta quit.
Why is that, Elwood?
I'm going to become a priest.
I'll call payroll and have them get
your severance pay ready.
- Good luck.
- God bless you, sir.
Thank you.
- What's this?
- This is the last known address...
of Bones Malone
and Blue Lou Marini.
The Lord works in mysterious ways.
- Mrs Toronto?
- Tarantino.
Ma'am, do you have a Thomas Malone
or Louis Marini living here?
Not any more.
They moved out a long time ago.
I don't take in boarders any more.
- May we come in, ma'am?
- Please.
Did they leave a forwarding address?
A phone number?
Did they live quietly?
What were their personal habits?
They were good boys...
but they made
a lot of racket at night.
Are you the police?
No, ma'am.
We're musicians.
Mr Man!
- Yes, ma'am?
- They left this card. Maybe it'll help.
Thanks.
Thank you. You're marvellous.
Thank you. I'm Murph,
and these are the Magic Tones.
Steve "The Colonel" Cropper,
Donald "Duck" Dunn...
Willie "Too Big" Hall
and Tom "Bones" Malone.
We'll be back with the Magic Tones
for the Armada Room's...
two-hour disco swing party
after this short break.
Till then, don't you go changing.
So you're out. You're free.
You're rehabilitated.
What's next? What's happening?
What you gonna do?
You got the money you owe us,
mother-fucker?
Let's get something
straight here.
The reason he got locked in the slam
in the first place...
was for sticking up a gas station
to cover you guys.
You're kidding.
He pulled that job to pay
for the band's room-service tab...
from that Kiwanis gig
in Coal City.
- You did?
- That's right.
So I don't want to hear
any more of this small-change shit.
We're putting the band
back together.
Who here at this table
can honestly say...
that they played any finer
or felt any better than they did...
when they were
with the Blues Brothers?
You were the backbone...
the nerve centre
of a great rhythm-and-blues band.
You can make that live,
breathe and jump again.
Murph and the Magic Tones?
Look at you in those
candy-ass monkey suits.
And I thought
I had it bad in Joliet.
At least we got
a change in clothes.
You're wearing the same shit
from three years ago.
Jake ain't lying, though.
We had a band powerful enough
to turn goat piss into gasoline.
We'll never get that fat sound again
without more horns.
We'll never get Mr Fabulous.
- Where is he?
- Forget it.
Mr Fabulous is the top maitre d'
at the Chez Paul.
He's pullin' down
six bills a week.
- Matt Murphy got married.
- Where is Matt "Guitar" Murphy?
He opened a restaurant with his old lady
on Maxwell Street...
and he took Blue Lou with him.
You'll never get Matt and Mr Fabulous
out of them high-paying gigs.
Oh, yeah?
Well, me and the Lord...
we got an understanding.
We're on a mission from God.
Mainly French cuisine.
No, sir. Mayor Daley no longer
dines here. He's dead, sir.
Private dining rooms
are available.
Oh, no. It was supposed to be
five years.
Didn't you get five years?
No, sir, not you.
And your name, sir?
Rizzolo, for eight at 11:30.
Thank you.
Mr Fabulous,
how marvellous it is to see you.
- You're looking younger than ever.
- Wait. You guys can't come in here.
Nonsense, my dear fellow.
My brother and I
have come to dine...
to celebrate my early release
from the service of the state.
Wait. Let's talk outside.
- Let's have a cup of coffee outside.
- Why, heavens, no.
We seek a full meal and all
the compliments of the house.
Come, Elwood.
Let us adjourn ourselves
to the nearest table...
and overlook this establishment's
board of fare.
Good evening. Chez Paul.
Wait! Hey!
Sir, do you mind calling back