Come on!
Tres to dos on Big Red!
Tres to dos on Big Red.
Big Red! Big Red!
You ready, motherfucker?
Kick his fucking ass! Kill him!
Pay up, fucker!
You know who I am.
And you know my reputation.
Sí, señor.
And yet you place a bet with me,
and you don't have the fucking money to pay.
I pay you later, carnal.
Steve does not accept fucking layaway.
If you make a fucking bet with Steve,
you fucking pay Steve when his fucking cock wins.
- Do we comprehende? - Sí, señor.
Obviously not. Obviously you don't comprehend.
Fuck him up.
Rough his fucking ass up. Check his pockets, Aaron.
Search every fucking nook and cranny of that cheapskate.
Nada.
I'm gonna cut your fucking dick.
Maybe that'll put a fucking smile on your fucking face.
Maybe we will cut this motherfucker's balls off.
You know what? I can cut off your titties.
Don't cut me.
Titty, titty, bang, bang.
He will titty-titty-bang-bang you.
He'll cut your tits off.
Take him, my donkey. He's all I have.
Fuck your donkey, bitch.
Fuck that donkey. Why would I want that?
He can carry things. You can make money with him.
Paint him like a zebra and charge gringos.
Charge a who?
The tourists.
Take photos.
I can't even believe you'd look at me
and the word "gringo" would come to mind.
We got a fucking Mexican racist.
Does it make your life easier to throw a racist term at somebody?
A man who has seen the things I've seen,
experienced the loss and pain that I've experienced.
- I transcend race, hombre. - You understand,
you motherfucker, you fucking cocksucker?
Of course. You are no gringo.
Thanks for acknowledging that. A word of advice:
next time you wanna bet on my cock,
you better bring some fucking pesos. Got it, ése?
I got you, Steve. Gracias.
Gather the jackass and the cock. We're out of here. Come on, hit it.
Let's go. I'll grab the fucking donkey.
This is me now.
See you soon.
A man haunted by the sacrifices he's had to make.
Shit.
Fucking moron!
A man who ran and never looked back.
A man who drank his ass
all the way down to the butthole of America.
Fucking Mexico.
I left my country to begin a new life,
one where I could finally blend with those I was living amongst,
become just another face in the crowd.
Soon I was embraced by the natives.
The wild landscape became my mistress.
The wild women, my cum caves.
Soon enough, I felt like a new person.
But truthfully,
sometimes I did wonder about them.
About how they deal with the holes, the agonies,
the darknesses that no doubt fell upon them
when I rode off into the sunset and then took that sunset with me.
Do they even remember what it's like to have hope?
Did they forget how to close their eyes and dream?
Did they discover that, without me,
they may as well not even exist?
Can anyone get a fucking break around here?
Although it makes me kind of sad,
I know that this savage land was made for me.
It's where outlaws go to die.
And as that day nears, I take comfort in knowing
that the lives of those I left behind are better off without...
Goddamn it.
How many times do I gotta tell y'all to keep your música down?
Y'all out here kicking this soccer ball
like you're goddamn Pelé, blasting music. I'm trying to write.
What kind of book are you writing?
It's a motivational novel about...
For people dealing with grief or depression. None of your business.
Will you get your brother off my moped?
How's it going?
Let me make this clear, Catuey. If there's one thing I can't stand,
it's fucking soccer.
Right? I hate when people do it.
Please hop off of my moped.
It's very expensive.
The language barrier, honestly, is so fucking frustrating right now.
God. I knew the barrio would be fucking annoying,
but I didn't know it'd be so loud.
And that's why I'm so frustrated.
Listen,
you still have not taken us up on our offer for dinner.
My wife is a wonderful cook. We'd love to host you.
Looks like she's cooking seared titty right now.
I feel like this is National Geographic shit.
Who the fuck is that? How many people you got in there?
That's Maria, my sister-in-law. You know what they say about family?
Family that prays together, stays together.
I appreciate the offer,
but I'm not into bonding with new people down here.
I got a family. I don't need the fucked-up version.
Your wife's titty does look beautiful, though.
And in addition to all that other stuff,
Kenny Powers still does not like children.
Chapter Three: Shit to do in Mexico in the nighttime.
{\Let me tell you that we're here in the 8th inning,}
{\I feel like hitting them with my shoe to see if they'll come up with anything!}
Disgraceful. Fucking disgraceful.
Charros suck big dicks!
This is disgusting. Isn't it disgusting?
- It's fucking gross. - Yeah, it's absolutely gross.
What's your fucking problem, man?
Why are you giving me this freaking look?
He wants to start a fight.
Shut the fuck up.
What's your problem?
You want more?
Want beer?
I told you, didn't I?
We're gonna get kicked out of this motherfucker.
{\Okay, let's go. The next one. Don't worry about it.}
There's a lot of trim walking around. I don't mind this joint at all.
Neither do I. Let's talk fucking business first.
Look at him, always on point, always wanting to get down to task.
This little son of a bitch here is the best sidekick I've ever had.
He's beating you, Hector.
He is whooping your ass as a sidekick.
- He has... - Not fucking thumbs up.
No, boss, he speaks no freaking English.
Don't you ever wanna win?
- Fuck. - Do you wanna win?
Do you wanna win?
Do you ever wanna jerk off?
Sí, and Hector will have what Aaron's having,
only not as good.
He hasn't reached that stage yet.
Where you been?
I've been around. You're not mad, are you?
Why would I be mad?
You know, because I got busy and I didn't immediately call you back
after I had made sex to you.
No, I didn't expect anything from you.
I felt like I was pretty upfront.
I told you I was damaged goods.
I wasn't trying to get close to anybody.
You were pretty clear about that.
It's really for your own protection.
People who get close to me, well, they tend to get hurt.
I don't know what you're getting into, if you wanna...
- I'm busy tonight. - Me too.
I'm working on a book. I'm a writer.
You got anything going on, maybe tomorrow night?
I'm pretty busy tomorrow too.
Tomorrow too?
Think I'm starting to kind of get the picture here.
You like to hit it and quit it? That's how you roll?
No. I just...
I just thought you were just like...
a one-night-stand gringo. That's it.
So you just saw me as a piece of meat?
Well, a good one, but...
I'm gonna be straight with you here.
I'm new to Mexico and...
I try to adjust. Most things are cool,
but I'm feeling a little weird
and fucking empty all the time and just fucking alone.
I mean, right now I just would like the comfort of somebody
who seems normal,
and even though you're Mexican, you seem normal to me.
Look at the sax player from Lost Boys rubbing the language barrier in my face.
Is he giving you any trouble?
Are you looking for some?
No, he's not giving me any trouble. He's just...
a tourist who's lost.
Right?
Sure. A tourist who's lost who might whip somebody's ass
if they keep trying to isolate me from conversations.
Peace.
See you.
Yeah. Awesome show.
Thank you.
See you around.
- Hey, come on! Photos! - Come on, come on!
- Step right up. - Come to the real zebra.
This is the one. That motherfucker got AIDS.
You don't want an AIDS zebra picture. You want a clean zebra picture.
Look how tight their shit is. Their presentation blows ours away.
You're standing here with a sign on a Tecate box.
Got Mice and Men here with a disposable camera.
We got the stupidest fucking jackass in all of Mexico.
Fuck them.
That's a fake zebra. This is a real safari zebra
- from the dark country of Africa. - Ten dollars, now.
Unbelievable.
- This is fucking shit. - You know what? Fuck this.
Safe!
Damn it!
Nice game, dick suckers.
Kenny?
Kenny Powers.
You talking to me, muchacho?
Well, yeah, I was trying to.
I'm Roger Hernandez,
manager of the Charros. What are you doing here?
I think you got the wrong man, dude. My name's Steve.
I gotta tell you,
I admit the hair threw me for a minute.
I was expecting to see the famous mullet.
Kenny Powers does have famous hair, doesn't he?
But this ain't his hair. This is Steve's. Steve the cockfighter.
Cockfighter.
I'm a cockfighter, not a ball player.
- Never been a ball player before. - Really?
So you're telling me you're not Kenny Powers?
It's my fault.
It's stupid of me to think Kenny Powers would be living here.
With the skills that guy had,
be a shame if he was spending his time as a cockfighter
and not on a field.
No offense, Steve.
None taken.
For Steve, this is an awesome life. He's improved things quite a bit.
Sorry, just... It just seems so funny.
I know Kenny lost his pitch.
Can you imagine how low he really gotten?
It's not fucking funny at all.
From what I've heard, Kenny Powers hasn't lost his pitch.
He just got tired of baseball always butt-fucking him.
Causing him nothing but pain and sorrow.
Well, I'm sorry to hear that Kenny Powers feels that way.
It's a real shame to let all that talent go to waste.
Well,
too bad I'm not Kenny Powers.
Too bad.
Come on, work it, Big Red.
Work it.
There you go. Good job, buddy.
Come on, buddy. Come on.
Doing good, man.
We're gonna fucking whoop this motherfucker's ass.
You hear me?
It's time, boss.
Let's do this.
You have no chance.
Vaya con Dios, fucker.
Vaya con Dios.
Fuck you!
Fuck you, motherfucker!
Big Red,
you were a good cock.
You made us a lot of money.
May you find the peace in death that you so longed for in life.
I'm sorry about the way things turned out.
I'm sorry about the way a lot of things have turned out.
See you in hell, hombre.
Wanna add anything?
Me and Hector, we don't wanna work with you no more.
Are you kidding around?
You're serious?
I thought we had a good thing going. We're making money hand over fist.
Is this you, Hector?
Are you poisoning his little mind
- because we didn't make a connection? - No, man.
It's me.
- I don't fucking like you. - You don't like me?
You're the one with the disability. I shouldn't like you, yet I accept you.
And you do this to me?
Man, fuck you, you midget.
I take the cocks.
Empty your pockets, you fucking cocksucker.
I see. This is a fucking double-cross?
He'll bash my brains and you'll cut my dick off?
You'll steal the cocks and roll me?
Fine.
After I told you that you were my best sidekick.
Listen, bitch.
I'm nobody's sidekick!
Come.
We're fucking done here.
I can't believe y'all would do this at Big Red's funeral.
You know how much he means to me.
Fuck you, and fuck Big Red!
You're a cold motherfucker.
Go home, you fucking gringo.
You don't fucking belong here.
Hey, what's up?
Wondering if y'all had room for one más more.
Of course, my friend.
Pasale, please. Come in.
Shall we say grace?
- Amen. - Amen.
And thank you, Lord,
for letting Steve join us for dinner. Amen.
That was a really nice prayer, Catuey.
Thank you.
I should confess something to you.
Steve is not really who I am.
Who are you?
In Mexico, a man could truly get lost.
And if you're a bank robber, or somebody
who's committed a fucked-up crazy crime,
then that's a good thing.
But hiding takes its toll.
At first you don't realize it,
but soon the identity you tried to shed starts getting pissed
and knocking at your insides.
You know, when dealing with deep depression and sad shit,
it's cool to pretend nothing is wrong.
That sometimes works, but eventually
you gotta call a spade a spade and be like:
"Yo, I'm fucked up and I gotta make a change."
Sometimes you gotta wash away the paint
and reveal to the world the jackass that is hiding beneath.
Sometimes you just gotta get back in the fucking game.
What the fuck is going on?
Coach's staff, everyone, come forward to me.
Vamanos, muchachos. Pull it in.
Steve, what are you doing? You're interrupting practice.
Practice doesn't seem to be working.
Come on, motherfuckers, get in here. I got an announcement.
I know a lot of you have seen me around town, going,
"Hey, there's Steve, the new guy, running shit, the cockfighter."
Well, I have a confession to make.
My name's not Steve, and I'm not a cockfighter.
I'm a ball player, and not just any ball player.
I'm Kenny fucking Powers.
And I reveal myself to you all here,
upon this field.
Behold!
My rookie card. It's me on the front. Y'all wanna just pass this around
so you can just see it? I'm gonna need to get it back though.
I see the look on your faces.
You're thinking, "Hey, Kenny, you're from America.
"You probably have a printer.
"You could've gone on the Internet and printed that bitch."
You know what? I could have.
Except for one fact:
I don't own a printer,
and I fucking hate computers, all kinds.
I come here today, not just to bash on fucking technology,
but to offer you all a proposition.
Let's face it, y'all fucking suck.
Don't get your feelings hurt. Don't get sensitive on me here.
I fucking suck too right now.
I am in the darkest Third World hole I've ever been in in my entire life.
About a thousand hundred million miles from where I should be.
And the only way for me to get back there
is for us to join forces.
If we can make enough noise down here,
then just maybe everyone in America will hear us.
Everyone will.
And they will all know
that Kenny Powers is, in fact,
the Christ figure that they perceive me to be.
So if you all don't believe my words,
perhaps you'll believe this.
Anyone have a ball? Can I get an el ballo?
Right there. Okay. Got it.
Behold this, boys.
Try and fucking doubt this, all right?
If this was America, you'd have a radar gun,
and right now it would read 101.
When's the next game?
- Friday. - See you dumb motherfuckers there.
Where's the baseball card? It's worth five bucks.
Take that with me. Trying to pocket it.
Keep my eye on you.
All right, don't forget, my number's 55.
Fifty-five! See you motherfuckers Friday.
You got Kenny Powers up in this motherfucker now!
Fuck you!
Fuck you, too, cabrón.