God's Pocket Page #6

this guy says.

F***in' people!

Talk about everything!

Last call!

It's not even time!

Right. Drink up.

Ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

But I can't find

My way home

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

But I can't find my way home

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

But I can't find my way home

Still I can't find

My way home

And I ain't done nothing

Wrong

But I

Can't find my way home

It's in the paper!

What?

That Leon was killed again.

What? Why would they say that?

Because they found his

body in the street!

Why did they find his body

in the street, Mickey?

I didn't have the money

to pay to bury Leon,

so I took the truck

to Little Eddie's,

but his guy took it out and

wrecked it, and Leon fell out.

What?

Leon was in the truck.

No.

With the meat?

He was separated from the meat.

I knew that would upset you.

Where is he now?

He's at Jack's.

And it's all settled.

He was just a baby!

And it's in the paper.

I'm sorry, Jeanie.

But it's... it's nothing

to be ashamed of...

you know, people

having money problems.

I have to live in

this neighborhood!

And everybody's gonna know.

Everybody already knows...

everything.

Until recently, you only had

to die once in this city...

even if you came from God's Pocket.

There was a time when a 23-year-old

working man could die once,

have the event noticed

in his local newspaper,

and then move on to his reward

without the complications

of an additional death.

Give us this day our daily bread...

Leon Hubbard's death was

reported incorrectly

by this newspaper last week.

But, then, Leon Hubbard

wasn't important.

Mickey. Oh, motherf***er!

Leon Hubbard was like the other

working people of God's Pocket...

dirty-faced, uneducated,

neat as a pin inside.

Motherf***er!

They Work, marry, and have

children who inhabit the Pocket,

often in the homes of their

mothers and fathers.

They drink at The Hollywood

or the Uptown Bar...

little places deep in the city,

and they argue there about

things they don't understand...

politics, race, religion.

And in the end, they die

like everyone else...

Leaving their families

and their houses

and their legends.

And there is a dignity in that.

We owe Leon Hubbard an apology

and all the people who knew him

and loved him and worked with him.

If we stop listening to

Leon Hubbard's story

and all the neighborhood

stories like it,

eventually the neighborhoods

will stop listening to ours.

Packed my bags, I'm ready

Give me a beer.

To go down to the city

Mr. Shellburn, nothing personal,

but I think that I better

ask you to leave...

for your own good.

Give me a beer.

What the f*** are you writing

about us in the papers for?

How is it your business what we do?

Calling us ignorant, dirty-faced.

That was a compliment.

You work for a living.

You get dirty.

That's dirty hands.

Dirty-faced, you don't take a bath.

I mean, you ain't from around here,

and you're making us

look like a**holes.

You don't f***ing know us.

No, I don't... I didn't

make you a**holes.

I said the opposite.

If he wasn't busy

f***ing Leon's mother,

he might have noticed everybody

in here ain't dirty.

No offense, Mickey.

All right, maybe we all

ought to calm down.

F*** calm down. What

is he doing down here?

I'm down here because

of a misunderstanding.

- That's why...

- Misunderstanding, my ass.

This motherf***er came

here to get f***ed up.

This is my city.

- Bullshit.

- F*** you.

But I'm on your side!

- Take it outside, Danny.

- Wait a minute.

- Let's go.

- Stop!

- It's his own fault.

- What the f***?

Because of something he wrote?

- Take it outside!

- Come on. Go.

- Come on.

- Get him out.

- Let's go.

- Get him out!

What the f*** is wrong with you?

You ain't from here either!

Yeah, you piece of sh*t.

This ain't your city, motherf***er!

What are you gonna do, huh?

20 of you against this old man for

something he wrote in the newspaper?

Ain't none of your business,

Mickey, so stay out of it!

Shut the f*** up!!

I don't give a f***!

Not this!

Get in your car.

Get him!

Watch the step.

Morning, Mick.

Morning.

You want some breakfast?

I can't even think about food

this time of the morning.

We better go practice, Sophie.

You want to come along, Mick?

I'm gonna read the paper.

You don't mind if we do.

It's all right. Just be careful.

Mm-hmm.

Oh.

Let me get those.

Jesus.

Would you put something

on those legs?

Yeah.

Sweetheart.

Yeah.

Ah, Christ.

We got to keep our guard up, Mick.

You never f***ing know.

Bird, I can't stay forever.

I got to get a job,

start something.

You'll be here when

they come, Mick.

You'll know what to do.

A little bit to your left.

Okay, that was better.

Yeah, yeah... and try not to shake.

Last night I had a

fight with a bottle

A bottle full of whiskey bourbon

I started a fight with a bottle

And if you think I look bad

You should see him

Dad was a down-dirty fighter

He taught us a lesson or two

I may be a lovely young flower

But I'll kick all

the dirt out of you

Yeah, I was banging

nails with a hammer

The day I found that

blood was really red

Yeah, I was banging

nails with a hammer

It turned out that the

hammer was my head

Mama was a cold-blooded lover

She taught us a lesson or three

I may be a lovely young flower

But you won't take

the piss out of me

Yeah, Dad was a down-dirty fighter

He taught us a lesson or two

I may be a lovely young flower

But I'll kick all

the dirt out of you

Last night I had a

fight with a bottle

A bottle full of whiskey bourbon

I started a fight with a bottle

And if you think I look bad

You should see him

Yeah, if you think I look bad

You should see him

If you think I look bad

You should see him

If you think I look bad

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