on your feet before i fuck you up so bad you never walk again.
eyes front.
you eat when we say you eat! you piss when we say you piss! you shit when we say you shit! you sleep when we say you sleep! you maggot- dick motherfucker!
off with them clothes! and i didn't say take all day doing it, did i?
first man into the shower!
delouse that piece of shit! next man in!
what the christ is this happy shit?
you'll be tellin' him with my baton up your ass!
what's your malfunction you fat fuckin' barrel of monkey-spunk?
i ain't gonna count to three! not even to one! now shut the fuck up 'fore i sing you a lullabye!
get this tub of shit down to the infirmary. if i hear so much as a mouse fart in here the rest of the night, by god and sonny jesus, you'll all visit the infirmary. every last motherfucker here.
so this shithead lawyer calls long distance from texas, and he says, byron hadley? i say, yeah. he says, sorry to inform you, but your brother just died.
i ain't. he was an asshole. run off years ago, family ain't heard of him since. figured him for dead anyway. so this lawyer prick says, your brother died a rich man. oil wells and shit, close to a million bucks. jesus, it's frigging incredible how lucky some assholes can get.
thirty five thousand. that's what he left me.
dumbshit. what do you figger the government's gonna do to me? take a big wet bite out of my ass, is what.
maybe leave me enough to buy a new car with. then what happens? you pay tax on the car. repairs and maintenance. goddamn kids pesterin' you to take 'em for a ride.
that's right, wanting to drive it, wanting to learn on it, f'chrissake! then at the end of the year, if you figured the tax wrong, they make you pay out of your own pocket. uncle sam puts his hand in your shirt and squeezes your tit till it's purple. always get the short end. that's a fact. some brother. shit.
that's funny. you're gonna look funnier suckin' my dick with no fuckin' teeth.
that's it! step aside, mert. this fucker's havin' hisself an accident.
you better start making sense.
naw, that ain't right! tax free?
you're the smart banker what shot his wife. why should i believe a smart banker like you? so's i can wind up in here with you?
fuckin'-a. i don't need no smart wife-killin' banker to show me where the bear shit in the buckwheat.
ambulance-chaaing, highway-robbing cocksuckers!
what are you jimmies starin' at? back to work, goddamn it!
drink up, boys. while it's cold.
poor fella must'a tripped.
you wanna explain this?
looks pretty clean. some contraband here, nothing to get in a twist over.
dufresne!
that's him. that's the one.
what am i, talkin' to myself?
dufresne! what the fuck did you do? your ass, warden's office, now!
you tell me, fuck-stick! they're addressed to you, every damn one!
i want all this cleared out before the warden gets back, i shit you not.
who?
last night's count.
go on, boy! we got a hold of you!