Stealing Cars Page #3

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don't talk to the Latino guys.

And the skinheads don't talk to

the black guys or the Latino guys.

And nobody talks to the crackers.

- I love clichs.

- Yeah.

And nobody but nobody

talks to me.

I'll talk to you, Nathan.

I'll talk your goddamn ear off.

You're crazier than I thought, man.

See that guy? It's Carlos Fuentes.

- He's the alpha dog, El Gato.

- How can he be the alpha dog...

and called The Cat?

His moniker contradicts his position.

Because he shot a guy. In the eye.

Behind a Five Guys. He shot him

with a burger in his mouth.

Jesus.

- And they put him in here?

- Yeah. Mexican Mafia.

He's totally connected.

That sh*t is far-reaching.

Some kind of family thing, I think.

- You got your pads on all backwards, bro.

- Oh.

- Thanks. Am I good?

- Yeah.

All right.

Yo, Nathan got J.T.'s old helmet.

Make him the waterboy.

All right. For those of you

who just recently joined the team...

my name is Coach Carmichael.

You might remember me from my days

playing linebacker for the Eagles.

All right. Football...

- If he says football is a lot like life...

- Football is a lot like...

- I'll barf blood on his cleats.

- A lot like life.

You find something funny, Stein? Hm?

No, sir. No.

Since you like to laugh so much,

maybe we crack you up officially. Dye.

- Yeah, J.T. Show him what's up!

- Here's your tough guy.

- You ball?

- I was defensive end...

back at Erasmus Hall. Yeah.

I broke a dude's collarbone

so I got kicked off the team.

Part of the game.

He was our quarterback, so...

Son, you got Eagle potential.

A little one-on-one.

See if you can blow past Mr. Dye.

Run to daylight, p*ssy.

Sir, Nathan is a p*ssy.

He's a international p*ssy.

He's a real-deal p*ssy.

- I, on the other hand...

- Ooh!

- Damn.

- Yo, that's my boy right there.

Get up. Get up, son.

- What'd you say?

- Nothing.

- Like a rag doll.

- You want another one?

He just said something nasty

about your mama.

- Ooh...

- Oh, is that right?

Do it again.

Ooh!

- Down!

- Yeah, J.T.

- What'd you say about my mama?

- Nothing.

But you hit me like that again,

I might.

I think I busted something.

Oh...

Son of a...

Peas from last weekend.

I bet you won't be

verbing me no more.

Verbing? Would that be

in the eyeballing family, sir?

- Do it again.

- Come on, man.

Do it, J.T., do it.

Man.

Nah, I guess I wouldn't.

- Again.

- Stay down.

Ooh...

Do it again.

Ooh...

Again.

Ooh...

Do it again. Again.

Ooh...

Straight embarrassing.

This is getting ridiculous now, man.

Do it again.

Oh, man.

- What are you doing?

- He's done. He's done, man.

Hey!

Get back here!

Nice hit, Mr. Dye.

"Why is it," he said, one time

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