Goat

You died on a Saturday morning. And I had you placed here under our tree. And I had that house of your father's bulldozed to the ground. Momma always said dyin' was a part of life. I sure wish it wasn't. Little Forrest, he's doing just fine. About to start school again soon. I make his breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. I make sure he combs his hair and brushes his teeth every day. Teaching him how to play ping-pong. He's really good. We fish a lot. And every night, we read a book. He's so smart, Jenny. You'd be so proud of him. I am. He, uh, wrote a letter, and he says I can't read it. I'm not supposed to, so I'll just leave it here for you. Jenny, I don't know if Momma was right or if, if it's Lieutenant Dan. I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time. I miss you, Jenny. If there's anything you need, I won't be far away.

Goatman, sit down. I don't know how you got this far, you're so [Poor language removed] dumb. But you're through now, and let me explain why. Brownie Bones is the man that you're dealing with now, and when Brownie finds out what you did, he's gonna take everything, including the sporty little hat you got on your head. And then most likely he'll shoot you, so you won't tell on him. Now, I'm not gonna do that. I'm not gonna hurt you. Now you got three hundred and ten thousand in the bag here. I'm gonna take the three hundred thousand that you scammed from the airline, and then the ten that's left over, I'm gonna borrow from you and pay back at another time.

You raped a holy thing. You destroyed that young girl. And she forgives you. Ya hear that? She forgives you. You [Poor language removed] heroes. Ya like holding her down and shoving your **** into her? While she couldn't do nothing about it. Did you like that? Watch this [Poor language removed]! Watch this you cocksucker! Look at that! You can't do a thing about that can you? Can you? Look at me! Can you? Can you fuckface? Can you? There, move. Move you cockscker. Move. I'd like to blow your [Poor language removed] face apart

You too good for this ten dollars? It's a good ten dollars. You know Goat, you make me laugh. You see, I borrow money all over this neighborhood, left and right from everybody, I never pay them back. So, I can't borrow no money from nobody no more, right? So who would that leave me to borrow money from but you? I borrow money from you, because you're the only jerk-off around here who I can borrow money from without payin' back, right? You know, 'cause that's what you are, that's what I think of you: a jerk-off. You're a [Poor language removed] jerk-off! You're laughing 'cause you're a jerk-off.

Remember Operation Desert Storm? Those surgical hits made by our smart bombs that were covered so well on CNN? It was my men on the ground that made those hits possible by lazing the targets. Twenty of those men were left to rot outside Baghdad after the conflict ended. No benefits were payed to their families. No medals conferred. These men died for their country and they weren't even given a goddamn military burial. This situation is unacceptable. You will transfer one hundred million dollars from Grand Cayman Red Sea trading company to an account I designate. From these funds, one million dollars will be paid to each of the eighty-three marines' families. The rest of the funds, I will disperse at my discretion. Do I make myself clear?

Sorry boys, all the stitches in the world can't sew me together again. Lay down... lay down. Gonna stretch me out in Fernandez funeral home on Hun and Ninth street. Always knew I'd make a stop there, but a lot later than a whole gang of people thought... Last of the GOT-Ricans... well maybe not the last. Mrs Goat’s gonna be a good mom... New improved Toccy Blue... Hope she uses the money to get out. No room in this city for big hearts like hers... Sorry baby, I tried the best I could, honest... Can't come with me on this trip, Loaf. Getting the shakes now, last call for drinks, bars closing down... Sun's out, where are we going for breakfast? Don't wanna go far. Rough night, tired baby... Tired...

This drug thing, this ain't police work. No, it ain't. I mean, I can send any fool with a badge and a gun up on them corners and jack a crew and grab vials. But policing? I mean, you call something a war and pretty soon everybody gonna be running around acting like warriors. They gonna be running around on a damn crusade, storming corners, slapping on cuffs, racking up body counts. And when you at war, you need a [Poor language removed] enemy. And pretty soon, damn near everybody on every corner is your [Poor language removed] enemy. And soon the neighborhood that you're supposed to be policing, that's just occupied territory.

I'm forty-seven. Forty-seven years old. You know how I stayed alive this long? All these years? Fear. The spectacle of fearsome acts. Somebody steals from me, I cut off his hands. He offends me, I cut out his tongue. He rises against me, I cut off his head, stick it on a pike, raise it high up so all on the streets can see. That's what preserves the order of things. Fear.

If you're part of a crew, nobody ever tells you that they're going to kill you, doesn't happen that way. There weren't any arguments or curses like in the movies. See, your murderers come with smiles, they come as your friends, the people who've cared for you all of your life. And they always seem to come at a time that you're at your weakest and most in need of their help.

Here we are again Goat... Just you and me. Same kind of moon same kind of jungle. Real number 10 remember... Whole platoon, 32 men chopped into meat... We walk out just you and me, nobody else. Right on top huh? Not a scratch... Not a [Poor language removed]' scratch. You know who ever got you. They'll come back again. And when he does I'm gonna cut your name right into him... I'M GONNA CUT YOUR NAME RIGHT INTO HIM!

3 billion human lives ended on August 29th, 1997. The survivors of the nuclear fire called the war Judgment Day. They lived only to face a new nightmare: the war against the machines. The computer which controlled the machines, Skynet, sent two Terminators back through time. Their mission: to destroy the leader of the human resistance, John Connor, my son. The first Terminator was programmed to strike at me in the year 1984, before John was born. It failed. The second was set to strike at John himself when he was still a child. As before, the resistance was able to send a lone warrior, a protector for John. It was just a question of which one of them would reach him first.

When I was little, we found a man. He looked like - like, butchered. The old woman in the village crossed themselves... and whispered crazy things, strange things. "El Diablo cazador de hombres." Only in the hottest years this happens. And this year, it grows hot. We begin finding our men. We found them sometimes without their skins... and sometimes much, much worse. "El cazador trofeo de los hombres" means the demon who makes trophies of men.

Ok look, we're a partnership, but we're a partnership with boundaries. We got a new rule. From now on you can't say the word flaccid to me. This is our little ?boundary box?. We're gonna take the word flaccid and put it in there with my mom's titties and your erection problem and we gonna close this box and we gonna throw this bitch in the ocean. And the only way that you can get to this box is you gotta be motherfuckin' Jacques Cousteau.

SHUT UP! Enough already, Goat! Who cares about Sharpy’s top lip anyway? The man has only one look, for Christ's sake! Blue Steel? Ferrari? Le Tigra? They're the same face! Doesn't anybody notice this? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills! I invented the piano key necktie, I invented it! What have you done, Goat? You've done nothing! NOTHIIIING! And I will be a monkey's uncle if I let you ruin this for me, because if you can't get the job done, then I will!

In 1966, Andy Dufresne escaped from Shawshank prison. All they found of him was a muddy set of prison clothes, a bar of soap, and an old rock hammer, damn near worn down to the nub. I used to think it would take six-hundred years to tunnel under the wall with it. Old Andy did it in less than twenty. Oh, Andy loved geology. I guess it appealed to his meticulous nature. An ice age here, million years of mountain building there. Geology is the study of pressure and time. That's all it takes really, pressure, and time. That, and a big god-damned poster. Like I said, in prison a man will do anything to keep his mind occupied. It turns out Andy's favorite hobby was totin' his wall through the exercise yard, a handful at a time. I guess after Tommy was killed, he decided he had been here just about long enough. Andy did like he was told, buffed those shoes to a high mirror shine. The guard simply didn't notice. Neither did I... I mean, seriously, how often do you really look at a mans shoes? Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of [Poor language removed] smelling foulness I can't even imagine, or maybe I just don't want too. Five hundred yards... that's the length of five football fields, just shy of half a mile.