Blood In, Blood Out Page #8

Orale, that's a nice placa

you got there, ese.

You should be riding with me,

not f***ing with me, carnal.

Don't you call me carnal, you piece

of sh*t. I'm not your brother.

Scumbags like you

are killing off our kids.

- What an example to set for the kids.

- Listen, you motherfucking rat punk!

I'm gonna put you and your rat clica

back in the joint, you hear me?

- You keep talking. You keep talking!

- All right, all right, Paco.

- Let's... Hey! Let's go.

- Check the trunk.

- Put some clothes on, man.

- Hey, you got a warrant?

- Check that trunk.

- What do you think you are, bulletproof?

- God damn it. Check it, Rollie.

- Check the trunk.

So you think I never seen

an OD before?

What's the matter?

You don't recognize your own son?

- Hey, f*** you. That ain't Hector.

- No, Hector's only 11.

That boy's 13.

If your boss Savedra

keeps manufacturing that sh*t,

it'll put Hector in the cemetery too.

but you still smell

like chorizo, pig.

This pig is the only thing

standing between you and them...

but you ain't gonna get

through me, punk.

I ain't no rata.

Yeah, you're a rat. Get up. Go.

Ladies and gentlemen, I believe

my time here in this institution...

has turned me completely around,

and I'm very grateful.

Now I think I can make it

as a productive member of society.

Mr Velka, isn't it true

that you clique with La Onda...

a group whose motto

is "Blood in, blood out"...

meaning you have to kill someone

in order to become a member?

I hung out with a group who were

my friends from my old neighbourhood.

Our reputation grew out of defence of

each other, but that's not... that's it.

Nothing more.

They didn't even listen.

They f***ed me.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Miklo,

and make something of your life.

I don't ever want to see you

in here again.

This is my daughter.

Look at her.

Look at her! She was only

six months old when I came here.

She grew up without me.

I don't even know her.

- That ain't right, carnal.

- No, it's not, but it's that way

for too many of us.

That's why your parole

is so important.

You've got to prove

there's another way.

You got a chance to do it.

I don't.

Right on, carnal. Right on.

- Thank you.

- You gotta start acting like somebody

who deserves parole, carnal.

Put it on the record.

Earn your freedom on paper, ese.

All they got in front of them

is your jacket.

You are your jacket,

'cause to them you're just a number.

Everyone who enters the joint

thinks he's a man,

but you know what he really is?

A number worth 30 grand a year.

They want us to come back...

and what's worse, they have us

lining up to get in, ese.

We gotta turn the system around.

We gotta outthink them.

Now, concentrate.

Why do you deserve parole, Mr Velka?

Sir, I've been in prison

almost a third of my life.

I've grown up here.

I've learned to read and write here.

I earned my GED.

Mr Velka,

this board's only concern...

Sir, with all due respect,

look at my record.

I've worked hard to prove

I deserve another chance.

It's in there in black and white.

Please give me another chance.

Damn, ese,

they're not that good, homes.

That's the best thing I've tasted

in nine years, vato loco.

- Good to be home, carnal.

- Right on, cachetn. Right on.

- That rose won't bloom in the spring.

- Hey, hey, hey, hey.

No Baptist sermons, okay, homey?

It takes away the pain in my back.

The Lord can't. I tried praying.

- You better still be painting.

- You know it, homes. You know it.

But it's different than before.

More real.

No, hombre. Famous Apartments?

They ain't famous no more, ese.

Orale, come stay with me, homes.

- I got a studio.

- Nah, I gotta stay here.

Frank got me a place. And, besides,

the parole board checks my address.

Thanks, Cruzito.

Any time, carnal, t sabes.

You don't know how good

it is to see you, vato.

Vato Loco forever, carnal.

Nobody home!

Quiet outside!

What the f***'s up with you?

- Milkweed.

- I made it.

Hey, welcome to the barrio, homes.

Hey, Smokey!

Apache! Mudo!

Hey, homes. See my hermano?

Yeah, Carlos. Hey, he told me

to tell your mom to send more coffee.

- And make sure it's, um, TC.

- Sh*t. She never sent me nothin'.

Hey, yeah, put some clavo

in it this time.

Chata! Some coffee.

So, uh, you got a place for me

in this building, huh?

Uh...

Hey, you know,

that didn't work out, homes.

Tell him to suck his pipi.

You can stay here, ese.

It's the same address.

- I even got you a good job.

- You're supposed to have

an apartment for me!

Hey, just a f***ing minute,

Your Majesty!

This ain't the joint

with three hots and a cot.

This is the streets, homey.

You got no choice.

The parole board calls the shots here.

This is your address

for at least three months.

La Onda could do better than this.

Yeah, Rico and Luis split

after a month, man.

I'm just hanging

for my old lady and my kids.

- What about Popeye?

- Popeye's docking me

for a third of my cheque, man.

Everybody's getting clipped, man,

to pay that loan shark Clavo.

That's the dude that fronted

the bread for the PCP lab.

That's not the way

it's supposed to be!

- I burnt you on that one.

- Truck's loaded. Can I get my cheque?

No, Larry. No, no.

Don't be that way.

Larry, pettiness is an ugly thing.

Won't be able to cash that till Monday.

Company will do it for ten bucks.

- All right.

- So, Larry, what do you give me

on the Lakers and Golden State?

Three points?

Come on, Larry.

Kareem is crippled.

Give me six points and Golden State.

Come on.

- What?

- Barry's hand's hurt.

He's Golden State's whole offence.

Hang on, Larry. So?

Kareem is injured. So is Nixon.

Six points ain't enough.

Listen, six points or no bet.

Sorry, Larry. Sorry, Larry.

All right.

Who made you the expert?

Put me down for 1,200.

Yeah, 1,200, Larry.

East Los has gotten really crowded.

It is, man. Illegals pouring in

from everywhere, homes.

Guatemala, El Salvador, Ecuador,

Panama. Donde sea, homes.

Crossroad of the world, ese.

A Latino world.

- You seen Paco?

- What?

- You seen Paco?

No, not since Juanito died.

They don't want to keep the wound open,

man. They don't want me around, homes.

- That's cold-blooded, carnal.

- Paco's a narc, homes.

- He'll probably bust my ass someday.

- Man, that's f***ed up.

- Detective Aguilar.

- Detective! Big time.

- Miklo?

- Good guess.

- Are you out?

- Yeah, two weeks.

- Well, why didn't you let me know, man?

Hey, after nine years in the joint,

it ain't easy to call a cop, ese.

Listen, it's not me I'm calling

about any, way, . It's Cruz.

He's hurtin', man.

He needs his familia.

- He has no family.

- That ain't right, Paco.

- Vatos Locos forever, remember?

- No, you know what I remember?

The day they lowered

my little brother into the ground.

That changed me forever.

And every time I see a junkie

on the street, it just reminds me...

how Cruzito pissed away

his life and his talent.

Yeah, well, think about it.

Rate this script:5.0 / 2 votes