The Last Rites of Ransom Pride

---

I was 11 years old

when general Batista

slaughtered half my village.

I watched him

torture my father

and butcher my mother.

The kids that survived,

I took to Juarez.

We roamed the streets

like wolves.

I came back the night

of the general's wedding.

Stole his straight razor.

The general awoke to the sound

of his own throat being cut.

While the general bled,

I sang to him.

"'Tis better to whisper

the sun is rising.

'Tis better to whisper

the sun is rising."

There's two kinds of people

in the world, fellas.

There's the wicked...

And the righteous.

And it's

the wicked man's job

to get

the righteous man's money.

This righteous tool here

is used by the wicked

to get that money.

Sure, they're old.

But they shoot true.

Now, in the hands of a man

such as Louie Chama, well...

it could bring great wealth.

- Huh?

You don't f*ck

with Louie Chama.

- Amigo mio

The last thing Ransom Pride

said to me was,

''I was always a lover,

despite the killings.''

The body of Ransom Pride

belongs to me.

And I understand there's someone

here who believes otherwise.

Mescal?

You go on and tell

that broke-dick son of a bitch

he's mistaken.

I stick my dick in you.

Hmm.

Your Ransom...

he killed a priest.

This priest

was my brother by birth.

And although his faith

was misplaced,

he remains my brother

in death.

Therefore, the body

of Ransom Pride will be fed

to the devil's

black vultures,

for there must be

atonement.

He has a brother.

So this is your offer?

A woman willing to buy back

a man's soul...

With the blood

of his brother...

Is beyond salvation.

The puppies could be

coming out tonight.

Maybe I should think up

some names for 'em.

She's taken to me.

Maybe she thinks

I'm like him.

How is it you consider

yourself like Ransom?

I'm sorry, Pa.

I didn't mean

we're the very same.

I just...

- I just think that maybe-

- No, finish what you said.

I want to hear

how it is

you think

you're like your brother.

Whorin'?

Runnin', robbin'?

You're right, Pa,

we're nothing alike.

No, you're not alike.

And you should

get on your knees

and thank the Lord in heaven

you're not like him.

He's coming

to get me, Mama.

Hey, Mama.

I'm sorry.

She had them pups?

She's suffering, Pa.

She...

What's wrong

with you?

You like to watch

that suffering?

What?

Nothing's wrong.

Nothing's wrong.

Come here, sweetie.

Come here, sweetie.

- Pa, please, please.

- Come here. Come here.

You know,

what's wrong with you?

- Pa.

- Don't you let her suffer.

You don't let her

Come here, sweetie.

God damn you.

What's wrong with you?

Where are the dead?

I've often wondered.

The scripture tells us

where the dead are.

Well, see,

my wife...

The scripture tells us

what becomes of the dead.

all those who go

to their graves unsaved

shall know

the torment of hell.

Whore of Babylon.

Ransom's dead.

In Mexico.

Father, I've sinned.

I'm no longer worthy

to be called Thy son.

Proverbs 16:
18.

Don't you dare

quote scripture to me, whore.

Ezekiel 33:
33-32.

''And they come unto''-

Thessalonians 4:
15-17.

Now, I swore

I'd bury Ransom

next to his mother.

We owe him.

You owe him, whore.

You listen to me, bitch.

You listen to me.

Ahh. Get off me.

Oh. Ow.

Oh, no.

No. I'm sorry.

I'll leave. I'll leave.

I'll get out of here.

Sorry about your ma.

How did he die?

He got shot.

A gun-runnin' deal.

Took the first bullet

in the back.

This walleyed bastard bitch

claimed the body.

There ain't nobody left

but me and you.

We'll do this for him.

How do we get him back?

I got that worked out.

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