The Longest Yard Page #3

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- Oh, really?

Most of these old boys have nothing.

Never had nothing to start with.

But you, you had it all.

Then you let your team-mates down,

got caught taking bribes.

I did, did I?

- I ain't saying either way.

I'm just saying

you could've robbed banks, sold dope,

stole your grandmother's pension,

and none of us would've minded.

But shaving points off a football game,

that's un-American.

You take football real serious down here.

Mind if I ask you one question?

- Yeah, I do.

Why'd you do it?

It's a long story.

- Well, I got eight years.

Oh, my God.

What the hell is that?

That's a member

of the warden's football team.

Some of these guards are not

just everyday run-of-the-mill guards.

Crewe. Granville. Front and centre.

What now?

That means we don't get

to finish this delicious lunch.

What's he looking for?

Snakes.

Snakes?

- Yeah.

Take five.

Rolling one, boss?

- Not today, boy.

Jeez.

Terrific.

- Football f*ggot.

Salt pill up here, boss?

- Go get it, boy.

How long you been in this asylum,

Pop?

Thirty-four years.

Thirty-four years?

- Yep.

Last six and a half right here in the swamp.

Too old for reclamation,

so they made me barracks chief.

Aren't you coming up for parole soon?

Thirty years ago, I made the mistake

of slugging a fish bull. Hazen.

Just my luck he made warden.

Sent me out here when I was 64 to die,

but I've been hanging on.

We'll all be in the same place a thousand

years from now, so what the hell.

Yeah. What the hell.

All right, you a**holes.

Back to work.

Hey.

This ain't no country club, Superstar.

Move your ass.

No, no, son.

You've got to get off the bunk.

Man, for God's sake, get up.

On your feet.

Listen to me. Nobody's allowed on

the bunks till five minutes before lights out.

They'll put you in the oven.

Man, that can kill you.

Did you have any supper yet?

No.

Later I'll try to get you some chow.

You got to eat, man,

or you'll die of mono.

And they could care less.

Get off me.

- Hey, watch it, man.

Where the hell you going?

Twinkle, twinkle, little Superstar.

Guard.

- Yeah?

I want to see the warden.

Pass the salt.

Boy.

Come on.

Go, baby.

That's going to get you

twenty-four hours in the hot box, boy.

I quit.

What makes you so tough?

I don't know. It just comes natural.

That'll cost you, boy.

Rise and shine.

Rise and shine.

Oh. It's room service.

Pretty gamey.

Shower and put on some clean whites.

The warden wants to see you.

The warden?

- Get on down there.

Well?

What do you think of my team?

- Mean.

Crude, but mean.

I was depending on you, you know.

Well, there's so little time left now,

it's quite a problem.

They need something

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