God's Pocket

The working men of God's

Pocket are simple men.

They work.

They follow their teams.

They marry and have children

who rarely leave the Pocket.

Everyone here has stolen

something from somebody else...

or when they were kids, they

set someone's house on fire...

or they ran away when they

should have stayed and fought.

They know who cheats at cards

and who slaps their kids around.

And no matter what anybody

does, they're still here.

And whatever they

are is what they are.

The only thing they can't forgive

is not being from God's Pocket.

Say it.

Oh, your balls.

Oh... oh, my God.

- Oh.

- Oh, my God.

It's good, right?

Oh, it's so good.

- Oh!

- Your cook's so good.

Mm.

You okay?

Great.

Jeanie.

Mickey, I know. You love me.

I do.

If Leon is going to work today,

I got to be down at Bird's

by 8:
00 if he wants a ride.

Leon, honey, it's time for work.

All right.

Mickey's got to be to Bird's

by 8:
00 if you want a ride.

Honey?

I'm up!

"Everyone here has stolen

something from somebody else,

or when they were kids, they

set someone's house on fire,

or they ran away when they

should have stayed and fought."

That Richard Shellburn's

got it right.

I don't know why writing

down what everybody knows

is any better than knowing

it in the first place.

If you were from

here, you'd get it.

That's what everyone tells me.

I don't know how you eat that

shit and still look so good.

You get sugar diabetes, they're

gonna cut your feet off.

F*ck you looking at?

Something to eat in the truck, hon.

See, I told you it'd

take me no time at all.

You got me ten minutes

late already.

Fuckin'...f*ck it.

You mind spotting me 20 bucks?

They start on one end, and

the air in Camden is so bad

and it takes so fucking long

to get to the other end

that by then, the

paint is all peeling,

and they got to go back

and start all over again.

Year after year, painting the same

fucking bridge over and over.

It's like a nightmare.

Ho!

- You're late.

- I know. I'm sorry.

Another five minutes, we was

gonna leave without you.

"We"?

This horse is a fantastic,

beautiful horse, talented horse.

Hard for me to believe.

I seen it myself in Florida.

You're telling me there was something

wrong with the horse's pussy,

made her quit 300 yards

from the finish?

Turning Leaf, her name was, and she

hit the stretch and just quit.

Turns out she sucked up

air, you know, vaginally.

A couple gallons of air

get trapped up in there,

and she cramps up,

and she can't run...

very uncommon.

It's like running while you're

trying to take a shit, huh?

It was the humidity.

Horse like that runs up

here, she'd take the field.

Let's go!

I want to know what a white

man's doing walking...

while this n*gger is

riding around all day.

Nothing personal, Lucy, huh?

So I grab that fucking

cat by the tail, right?

I hold him upside down,

and that little stewardess

is screaming for me

to leave him alone,

and I says, "I'll leave him

alone, all right," and...

and I take my knife...

Boy, you're about to figure

a way to wipe your ass

with that razor, ain't you?

I ain't said a word all morning.

Which one is it?

It's a green truck.

I got a plate number

right over here.

All these trucks are green.

Yeah, but I got a

number right over here.

It's gonna take a fucking month

just to read the fucking

license plates on that one.

Well, that ain't it.

We're looking for a reefer.

A refrigerated truck, you know,

so the meat don't cook

on its way to Vermont.

Mm-hmm.

It's running.

They don't shut them off.

They're diesels.

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