Harsh Times Page #9

Sh*t, if I'd

told you,

you would have gotten

all f***ing hinkey at the

border, man, gotten us nabbed.

I wouldn't have been

in the f***ing car, dude!

I would've been on

motherfucking Greyhound.

That's a serious breach

of the homie code, man,

not f***in' telling me.

I'm sorry, man.

I'm sorry, you know.

I should've had...

I should've got you guys,

you know,

walk across the border.

I could've met

you somewhere.

But, you know, I got

bills, I got sh*t.

I gotta put my sh*t

in storage.

I gotta get gas

out to Georgia.

Oh, f*** your money woes, dog!

I am not catching

a f***in' case for you.

Let me out of the f***ing car

right now.

F***, man. Come on, man,

let's drop this sh*t off.

Let's get paid!

Let me out right here.

Mi-Mi-Mi-Mike! Listen, listen!

Let me out right here,

right now!

You will feel so much better

with a fistful of twenties.

Huh?

Dude, we're drunk,

and we got a trunk full of

f***in' weed, dude, I am not...

Okay, f***in', Mike,

don't b*tch out on me!

Don't f***ing b*tch out on me!

I am still on probation,

dick head.

Let me out now!

Let me out right here

right f***in' now, dude!

Let me get paid, will you?

Will you f***in'

let me get paid?!

Oh, yo, get paid, man.

F***in' go for it,

all right?

Just let me get the f*** out.

I don't give a f***, dude.

What the f***

are you doing, man?

(yelling hysterically)

What the f***

are you doing, Jim?

What the f***?

What the f***?

F*** you!

F***, I'm sorry, dude,

I'm sorry, dude.

Okay? I'm sorry.

Why the f*** did you put

a gun to my head?

Huh?

You gonna shoot me?

No, man. I'm sorry.

I was trippin'.

I'd never...

I'd never put a f***in' gun

to your head, dude

I know.

I know you wouldn't, man.

I'm sorry.

First your lady, now me, man.

What the f*** is up?

I'm not thinking.

I got too much sh*t going on.

(sniffling)

Oh, f***, I'm just faded,

man, that's all.

I'm just f***in'

fade right now, okay?

I'll cruise

you by your pad.

I'll drop you

off, man.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Yeah. You're a f***-up.

I'm going with you so you

don't f*** this sh*t up, too.

We'll go to Casper's...

get the money.

Yeah.

Then you can

drop me off home,

you can go to Georgia fed out

and be the f***in' man.

Yeah, I'm gonna be

the f***ing man.

I can drop you

off, you know.

Take you up the hill.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

No.

Keep on going.

MIKE:

Looks sketchy.

JIM:

I don't know.

Ho, what, you gonna

shoot their pigeons?

Yeah.

Just hurry up.

Yo, Casper!

Buenos noches, seor.

Tiene los cosatles?

Go pop the trunk, dude.

Con permiso.

(speaking indistinctly)

(dog barking in distance)

What's up, Casper?

What up, Jim?

What's crackin', man.

Is that you, Mike?

Whassup, homes?

Yo, Casper.

What up, dog?

Nothing, homey.

How you been?

Still with Sylvia?

Hope so.

Gonna find out tonight.

So whassup with

your brother, dog?

Fernie?

Got blasted by the hulas

awhile back, ese.

Damn.

Sorry to hear that, dog.

You play, you pay.

He knew what time it was.

Right.

Hey, we gotta bounce.

You got the money?

Yeah, just let me

check the sh*t, okay?

Yo, bring the feria, homey!

How's your old lady?

Eh... b*tch finally

graduated, yo.

JIM:

Oh, f*** it!

CASPER:
Yeah, now she can

support my ass, eh?

FLACO:
I got all the feria

right here, dog.

It's all rolled

up and sh*t.

You know what I mean?

Ready to go, dog.

Check this out, homes.

Ah, hell, nah!

CASPER:
Yo, hold up, dog.

Don't trip.

I know these fools.

They're with me, ese.

These are the fools

that jacked me, man!

F*** these motherfuckers!

I'm shooting both of 'em!

At least give the homeboy

a pass right here, dog.

Yeah, yeah,

let him bounce.

I don't give a f***.

I want this white boy

in a box, though.

Hey, you in the ride.

I ever see you again,

ese, you best be

getting your last supper,

'cause you're a dead man.

Hey, just get the f***

outta here, Mike.

JIM:

Take off, homey.

I'll be cool.

What the f***?

Don't trip, ese.

I'm cool.

Chill, dog! Chill, dog!

I got three kids...

(body thuds)

LIL' CHUCKY:
Oh, no, please,

sir! Please!

- No, no, no, no, no!

- MIKE:
Jim, no!

Please, please.

(dog barks in distance)

(raspy breathing)

(engine starts)

Why the f***

did you do that?

(both shouting)

(tires screeching)

JIM:

Pull the door!

- (engine revving)

- Oh, my God, Jim!

I'm hit bad.

What have we done?

I can't move my arm...

and I can't feel my legs!

(whimpers)

I can't move sh*t.

I'm f***ed up.

I'm f***ed up.

I'm f***ed up.

(gasping rapidly)

(Jim grunts)

MIKE:

Okay...

Don't trip...

Don't trip, dog.

County Hospital's

right there.

No! No! No!

County Hospital...

Don't you dare

take me there!

Don't you dare!

I'm not going

out like that.

No, we're going.

No, no...

No, no, no, no, no, no,

no, no, we're going.

No medical treatment.

No medical treatment.

But, but...

(gasping):

Mike, Mike...

You gotta kill me.

You gotta kill me.

You gotta kill me.

Why? Why?

I f***ed up.

Everything's shitty.

No, no...

Mercy kill me.

Ah... ah, please,

mercy kill me.

Ah, oh, no, dude.

No, no, no, no, no, no,

no, no, no, no, no.

No, everything's

gonna be fine.

Jim, shh-shh, shh-shh,

shh-shh, shh-shh.

Everything's gonna

be fine.

Everything's gonna be fine.

Take a look at me,

you dumb f***!

Everything's gonna be fine?!

Come on...

You take my piece...

and you put it

to my f***in' head...

and you pull

the trigger.

You f***in' step up...

No...

...and you do it.

No.

'Cause I can't.

(grunts)

(moans)

(sobbing):

Don't be a f***in' p*ssy.

Oh, my God...

Don't think about it.

Huh?

Do it.

Please.

Just kill you and bail?

Yeah.

Just take off.

And don't look back...

or you'll...

or you'll turn into

a pillar of salt.

Hey... Hey...

you wanted to know what it was

like to kill someone.

What's up, huh?

No one's gonna know.

Hmm?

Just you...

and just me.

And God.

No f***in' way.

- Huh?

- No f***in' way.

You're crazy; I'm not

shootin' you, dog.

It's mercy, dog.

It's mercy.

I deserve that.

I'd do it for you.

I'd do it for you.

Yeah.

Take it.

Yeah, yeah.

JIM (gasping):

Yeah, yeah... yeah...

D-Don't, don't

think about it.

Don't think about it.

Yeah, yeah...

Ah, yeah.

Yeah.

Ah... ah...

You did this to yourself,

you stupid f***!

You're always doing

stupid sh*t!

- I gotta f***in' fix it!

- Okay, okay.

Is that what you

f***in' want?!

- Yes.

- Huh?

You want me to f***in'

fix your head,

- once and for all?!

- Come on, it's easy.

It's easy.

No! Bullshit!

Bullshit! Not for me!

I love you,

f***in' sh*t bag.

I love you, too.

I'm gonna miss you, brother.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

- Everything's gonna be okay.

- Yeah.

Yeah.

I know.

(body thuds)

(bell clanging rapidly)

(engine rumbling)

(panting heavily)

(Sylvia grunts)

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(rap music playing)

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(music fades out)

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