All language subtitles for The.Lowdown.2025.S01E01.1080p.WEB.h264-ETHEL

♪ Don't take her for granted ♪

♪ She has a hard time ♪

♪ You've got to know
She's the sensitive kind ♪

News this morning,

we're learning Dale Washberg was
found dead in his home late last night

after an apparent suicide.

Dale's death comes on the tail of a
controversial Heartland Press article

about the Washberg
family's corrupt past.

As you can imagine, this throws a
new spotlight on the governor's race.

Oklahoma gubernatorial hopeful
Donald Washberg, Dale's brother,

had this to say
about Dale's passing.

Whoo!

Oh. Nice.

You break
it, you buy it.

Dale was
our family. My little brother.

We-We ask for privacy as we
grieve this tremendous loss.

The investigation continues
into what happened…

-Well, that's beautiful.
-We don't have a timetable on how long

this might take.

Stay with Fox 23…

-What?
-That piece behind you.

It's a Joe Brainard. You should
know who Joe Brainard is.

You're standing in front
of it all day long.

Isn't that fantastic?

-Yeah, it's nice.
-It's nice.

It's a Joe Brainard. It
should be in a museum.

Oh. You think it belongs
in a private supper club?

It's nice. And there's
a lot of art here.

Yeah, there's a lot of art here.

There's so much art here that I
don't think anyone would notice

if I slipped that in my
pants and walked right out.

Your pants are too tight.

-They are too tight.
-Mr. Raybon.

Yeah, uh, just one
second, I'm talking.

They're ready for you.

Well…

You'll have to remove your hat.

Dress code.

Oh, nice. They brought
the whole team, huh?

You work here long?

Okay.

-Hey.
-Howdy.

-All right.
-Can we get you a drink?

-Yes, Lee, get a whiskey.
-No, I'm sober.

I'll just have a pilsner and a New
York strip, rare, crispy, okay?

Little A.1. too,
if you don't mind.

If you got it.

-Nice to meet you in person.
-Yeah.

-We do have a lot of other business…
-Yeah, I'm sure you do.

This place is so fancy.

I've never even been back here.

Well, yeah,
just some of the perks.

Yeah, I should have gone in the
investment firm business, huh?

Instead of rare books?
Hmm.

But you are a journalist too though,
right? Or, uh, some kind of writer?

I'm a "truthstorian."

Sorry, say again.

I am a Tulsa "truthstorian."

A "truthstorian"?

-What exactly is a "truthstorian"?
-I'm glad you asked.

I read stuff.

I research stuff.

I drive around and I find stuff.

And then I write about stuff.

Some people care,
some people don't.

I'm chronically
unemployed, always broke.

But let's just say that I
am obsessed with the truth.

How about that?

Hmm.

So this is the team.

Bob, or Laughing Bob.

-Johnson, or Big John.
-Big John.

Cathy. Cathy's our
favorite for obvious reasons.

-And we have one more.
-Oh. Howdy.

-I take it you're Lee?
-Lee Raybon.

I'm Allen.

Strong
grip. You must be a rancher.

You must be a writer.

No, Allen, this
here is a "truthstorian."

Asshole.

My antique guy, Ray, tells me you've been
trying to get a hold of me for a while.

Yeah, I'm super, super interested in
that, uh, church pamphlet you have.

Yes, it's very special.

Martin Luther King
himself signed it.

It was at a North Tulsa
church that's no longer there.

Yeah, well, it must be very important
to the folks in North Tulsa.

Oh, yeah, I have, uh, a lot of Black,
uh-uh-uh, North Tulsa folks, uh, come in.

-Well, I mean, not just Black people.
-Sure.

-Mexicans too, uh…
-Sure.

-Indians.
-Indians?

Uh… The Oklahoma melting pot.

-That's why we love it.
-Yeah, I know.

That's why I think it's
important that that pamphlet

go back to the community
where it belongs.

-Come again?
-Yeah.

See, I wanna ask you a question.

How did you come
by that pamphlet?

Interesting story.

My grandfather
had an employee...

And he gave it to you, right?

Exactly. Now, can I
ask you something real?

Yeah. I've been doing a
little research on y'all.

And, um… I have some concerns.

-Oh, yeah?
-Yeah.

Well, tell me about those.

Well, first off, I'm
curious why you're buying up

Black-owned business
in North Tulsa?

That's a little weird.

Developing business opportunities
is part of our business.

Yeah, or it could be about consolidating
and killing the competition.

Which is bad for the economy
and the people in North Tulsa.

You have big balls, Lee.

I do.

The bad news is,

we do have some other business to
attend to this afternoon, so...

I hear you. Don't
have to tell me twice.

Let me just leave you with a little
business card I made up this morning

in case you wanna call me.

Cathy.

Hey, Big John. And, Bob.
Appreciate your time.

You didn't think you was gonna get
your hands on that pamphlet, did you?

Sometimes you gotta wave with one hand,

while you're getting what
you want with the other.

And don't worry, that church
pamphlet's gonna be back

where it belongs soon enough.

Gotcha.

Cocksucker.

That was great.

Gotcha.

I wanna
thank local and state authorities

for responding to this tragic matter
with the grace and dignity it deserves.

I know Dale's looking down
on us now from a better place

and no longer suffering.

Would The New Yorker write an
article about a turd in the water park?

You're probably right.

But we've had three Woody
Guthrie pitches today alone.

I think we've exhausted
stories on Woody for now…

-Oh, here he is, uh…
-Shit.

How about that Washberg piece?

Trending nationally.

Yeah. Can I talk to you?

Did you hear? Dale Washberg.

Did you hear? Come here.
Hey, how y'all doing?

Take over, Olivia.

Did you hear the news?

Dale Washberg committed suicide.

-Yeah, it's very sad.
-Yeah, it's very sad.

It also kind of demands
a follow-up article.

No, no, no. Lee, we are not
doing another Washberg piece.

The fucking guy is dead.

That's got nothing to do with
us. He was barely in my article.

-Still, we could get blamed.
-Why? For reporting the facts?

That article is unimpeachable.

-I went through it line by line.
-Yeah, I know.

I was there with you for three
days on the couch eating takeout

-in a cloud of your vape mist.
-Yeah.

So, you know it's rock-solid.

-It's a historical piece about…
-No, no.

…the sordid roots of a powerful
family. It is about past corruption.

Yeah. That family
is still corrupt.

What evidence do
you have of that?

That's where I need you. I
need to do a little bit more research.

What other stories are
you working on right now?

What other stories?

All right, all right.

Actually, there's a development
company called Akron.

They're buying up a shit ton
of property in North Tulsa.

So, capitalism.

I'm not feeling
very supported here.

Because you need to come
to me with a real pitch.

-Okay. You know the story about FDR?
-Which one?

The first time he heard
the name Adolf Hitler,

he knew the reason he was born.

I'm like that.

So you're saying you were
born to stop Donald Washberg?

I'm saying a faint heart
never fucked a bobcat.

No. The answer's no, thank you.

What the
fuck y'all looking at?

I read your
latest Washberg piece.

-Mm-hmm?
-Pissing off the old money,

the racists and the ranchers.

Yeah, one and the same.

You oughtn't piss off rich folk.
How you expect to make money?

Pancakes ain't cheap.

Yeah, I know. It's always
been my trouble, Sally.

Mmm.

"Our sweetest songs are those
that tell of the saddest thought."

Huh.

Shelley.

Ah.

Well, "Don't matter who's in Austin,
Bob Wills is still the king."

Willie Nelson.

True poet of the South.

It's actually Waylon.
Waylon Jennings.

-Oh, well.
-Doesn't matter.

I always get them mixed up.

Country white boys.

Long hair. W's.

You know that man?

Oh, don't get him started
about that family.

He'll start talking about
how old man Washberg

stole their land
from the Indians.

Well, he did steal…

Hidden tunnels, stolen
art, kinky sex stuff, allegedly.

Wait till you read the
new article. Even better.

You know, I've been
reading those articles.

-That you?
-Yeah.

-Heartland Press?
-Yeah.

Anyway, I'm just finishing
up what I'm doing here, so...

So you write hit pieces about
the future governor's family,

and then the guy's
brother kills himself.

Listen, pal.

What are you doing here?

You're missing something.

I mean, everyone here
is missing something.

Waffles and coffee,
you can make at home.

Something brings us to
Sweet Emily's at this hour.

Look around.

Just a bunch of night
owls. That's all I see.

No.

You see poetry.

Oh, no, no, no. Poetry
turns my stomach.

Only poems I like are
written on the bathroom wall.

Well…

If you truly believe that, well,
maybe you are a lost cause.

All right.

What are you missing?

I don't know.

But I'll find out.

Ah. Such good coffee. Mmm.

Sally made you a PB and J.

-Oh. My man.
-Yeah.

God bless you.

How's that little girl doing?

Not so little anymore.
She's probably looking at

-"InstaTok" as we speak.
-Hey, Lee.

-Can you please, please bring back…
-Yeah.

-…my Junior Kimbrough. I need it.
-Yeah, no problem, man.

Hey. Dan's asleep
in his office again.

Hey, there were a couple of guys
came by looking for you earlier.

White guys.

-What, they go to the bookstore?
-Nah, they were out here loitering.

They loitered.

Yo, Dan, wake up.

Wake up. Come on, man.

I come out here, I
said, "No loitering."

-What?
-Hey. Stash this, will you?

-Stash this?
-Yeah, just put it in the safe.

And go home. Your
wife's gonna kill you.

-I was on the way out. Thank you.
-Okay.

-We got your back, Lee.
-Yeah, yeah.

No loitering.

The fuck.

Who the fuck are you?

Get the fuck out of
my house, all right?

-Get the fuck out of here!
-Ain't your bitch.

-Jesus Christ!
-Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck. Don't. No,
no, no! Fuck!

-Damn it!
-You like that, you fuck?

'Cause it ain't
gonna get any better.

You put my name in that shitty
fucking newspaper article.

-What the Heartland Press?
-Yeah, whatever it's called.

'Cause it's a long-form
magazine, all right?

-What?
-It's a long-form magazine.

-It's not a newspaper.
-I don't give a fuck

-if it's the bathroom walls.
-Okay.

You put my name in an article and you
call me a Nazi… …a skinhead.

-Yeah, we ain't bald no more.
-Well, that's a great disguise.

Fuck.

You burned down a synagogue.

I had to put your
name in the article.

I didn't even mean to do that.

I just went to light a bag
of shit on their porch,

and then everything
swirled out of control.

And only half the
kitchen burned.

But you didn't print that in
your little newspaper, did you?

If anything, my treatment after
turned me to anti-Semitism.

-Uh-huh.
-Great, it happened.

You're both known
skinheads. All right.

I had to write about
it. It's what I do.

You ever think about how
hurt my fucking mom was?

-Your mom?
-Reading that shit in the newspaper.

I mean… …I have
people I report to, you know.

-People you don't want on your ass.
-Oh, really?

Two for flinching, fucko.

Just don't make me come
back and do something worse.

I know you got a daughter.
And I know you got an ex.

Real pretty too.

And I will fuck
you where it hurts.

Wait, what?

Deidra.

Hey, my check didn't go through.

-Listen...
-What happened to your face?

A couple of skinheads
broke in here last night.

What the fuck?

Yeah, it's just two of them.

Low-level guys, knuckleheads.

-It's not even worth, you know…
-Damn.

-Well, my check didn't go through.
-Yeah, I told you

when you first
started working here,

this is a rare bookstore.

-We don't make money.
-There's people in here all the time.

Yeah, well, selling used copies of
On the Road and Catcher in the Rye

does not pay the bills.

I live between big sales.
Universities, museums.

-I need off half a day tomorrow.
-Why?

-Getting a tattoo.
-A tattoo?

-Of a pussy.
-A pussy?

You've got a Confederate
flag on your arm.

Yeah, it's called irony. White supremacy
masked as Christian iconography.

-The pussy's ironic too.
-Uh, how do you figure?

I don't know. It's
a pussy on my arm.

Okay.

Listen, I got a
painting I'm gonna sell.

I'm going to the Washberg estate
sale. They got a lot of rare books.

-Jim Thompson, first editions.
-Okay. Okay, boss. Pay me.

You haven't given
us any money in a month.

-A month?
-It's expensive out there, you know.

-I know. I'm saving up for the thing.
-Oh, yeah? How's that going?

No, it's good… We're almost there.
The down payment. First month's rent.

It's a duplex. It's super nice. You're
gonna like it. It's in Brookside.

-Wow.
-It's not in Brookside.

You drive through Brookside. But
we'll be out of the apartment soon.

The apartment? You mean the attic
on top of your bookstore?

It's not an attic, okay?
And she happens to love it.

Yeah, of course she loves it.
She's a kid. She loves you too.

What's that
supposed to mean? You love me.

-Shut up.
-What?

Come…

Get it together, all right?

I don't wanna have to keep
making excuses for you.

-That's not fair to me.
-No, it's not.

How's
the new fella, hmm?

You really don't care.

-No, I do care.
-You don't care.

I do… I do… I do care. How is he?
He seems like a…

…swell guy.

Well, if by that you
mean he's got a job,

and I'm-I'm not gonna have to put him
in a nursing home by the time I'm 50,

then yeah, he's a hell of a guy.

See? You do still love me.

-You're the father of our child. Right?
-Mm-hmm.

-Yeah.
-There's only so much.

Got it. Got it.

Just… Is he cool?

I'm worried he's not cool.

Yeah, he's cool.

-He's cool.
-Yeah?

-And he's sane, so that's different.
-Hmm.

But can you even
afford a new place?

Come on.

But you're like…
…a failed writer though.

I mean, 90% of writers
are failed writers.

And what is successful anyway?
Making money or writing the book?

I think writing the book.

So I was thinking maybe we
should just make things easy

and I'll live with Mom.

-It'll just…
-Oh, Francis…

But we can still see
each other like this.

Wait. Hold on. Hold on.

Just listen to me, all right?

I'll bet you anything in the
history of daughters and dads

that this kind of conversation
has happened a lot.

All right? And I know
that not one daughter

ever actually wanted their
father to say, "Okay, cool."

I know dads leave. My dad left.

I mean, dads leave.
But I don't leave.

Got it?

Things are turning
around around here, okay?

I promise. Just, you know…

You just have to hang in there.

Okay.

Okay.

Hi, hi, it's Vicky. Leave
your name and number.

That's the thing.
It's a little bit tricky

because Mrs. Washberg is actually
still living in the house.

So we're just doing our best.

Mr. Washberg's things are mostly
in the dining room and the den,

with a few exceptions.

So I'm gonna try to help you
find what you're looking for.

I think…

You're gonna come
through over here…

You get that dirty, they're
gonna make you buy it.

Fancy seeing you here. Should
have known you'd be here, Ray.

Well, I heard tell
of rare books and I…

First thing I thought was,

"My goodness, I'm gonna be blessed
with Mr. Raybon's presence."

Even though this is the
last place you should be.

I'm surprised you ain't wearing
a disguise. You trying to die?

Well, I'm like the Bee Gees,
baby, just stayin' alive.

So you're here for the books? You're
not here to dig up any more dirt?

-Ooh. Well, maybe a little bit of both.
-Hmm.

So you write an article about a man's
family, and then he kills himself,

and then you just show
up at the estate sale.

-It was not that linear.
-Uh-huh. Well, you need this.

I heard that he was
almost broke, Washberg.

Definitely the black
sheep of that family.

That's
what smells so bad.

The whole family hates him. All
of a sudden he commits suicide.

I mean, it does seem a little
odd? You think I'm crazy?

No, I don't think you're
crazy. He was gay.

He was closeted. And
he lives in Oklahoma.

-Man, that'd make me shoot myself twice.
-Wait, don't say that, okay?

You're Captain Estate
Sale. You deal in dead people's stuff.

Come on, help me.

Is there a difference between a
suicide estate sale and a murder one?

-Whoa, whoa.
-Come on, Dale was crazy private.

He was impossible to write about.
I couldn't dig up anything on him.

Except he was always holding up
the family's business affairs.

-Oh, is that right?
-The kids all have to vote unanimously.

Dale always votes no,
and now Dale is dead.

-What the fuck happened to you?
-Don't worry about that.

You know what?

-You're a dirty man. A dirty, dirty man.
-I am.

Everything's connected.
Darkness is always afoot.

Because it is always afoot.

Well, you better watch out. Donald
could be your future governor.

Oh, that widow? She's crazy too.

-Batshit crazy.
-Man, she's just old white trash

-that married up, way up.
-Yeah, way up.

I heard she started as
a stripper at Avant,

then somehow graduated
to rodeo queen.

I guess she had to suck off a lot
of bull cocks to get that crown.

Can you imagine
being a stripper in Avant?

-Man, they don't even got a dollar store.
-How do you know all this?

Antique
mill, you know?

Yeah, well, where do
they keep the good books?

-Well, the best books are in his study.
-Okay.

-And so far they've left it intact.
-Ooh.

Maybe even left the brains.

Damn.

What the fuck?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Surprised you can't smell
the blood, Lee.

I can.

Hmm. Well, you're not supposed
to be in here by yourself.

I am supposed to let you in.

Locked doors don't stop
Lee Raybon. You know that.

Ah. So you're talking about yourself
in the third person now, huh?

-Finally happened.
-What finally happened?

Decide to quit
fighting your nature.

What's my nature?

Narcissistic cowboy with a penchant
for seeming like the good guy.

But every now and then that
old familiar bug bites.

It's like a little brown recluse.
It just puts its venom in you

and then that's it, you just
decide to fuck up your life

until the venom wears off.

I hear he's got Jim
Thompson first editions.

I was hoping for a copy of…

Mmm. Mmm, mmm.

Savage Night. After
Dark, My Sweet.

-Any of that do anything for you?
-You have no idea.

-They're over there. Help yourself.
-Thank you.

You're welcome. But I
have to wait outside these doors

because I'm gonna fucking throw
up if I stay in here.

Smells
like blood. And you.

I like your sweater.

-Betty Jo.
-That man can't be here.

Who?

The journalist,
the man in the hat.

Oh, my fucking word. Nice.

Hello, reader.

If you're reading this,
I'm probably dead.

In the following pages...

I don't know
how, but we did it again.

-I've been asked to ask you to leave.
-Leave? Why?

You write about the
racist Washbergs

and then you show up to
buy the dead guy's stuff?

I hardly mentioned
Dale.

-Can I buy these?
-Scoot or I'm gonna get fired.

Let's go. Scoot, scoot, scoot.

He was a good man.

He was a good man.

Thank you for your concern.

Thank you for your concern.

He was a good man.

He was a good man.

Now, here we go.

Now I'll find out who you are.

Is that a maroon Kia?

Hello, reader.

If you're reading this,
I'm probably dead.

In the following pages, you'll
find an account of what happened.

Hopefully you have
my whole library.

I've left notes in
other crime books.

I'm hoping whoever's reading
this has the means to make it right.

I don't have
nobody, not anymore.

My family thinks I'm spent meat.

I've always been in the way.

Ever since I was a
sickly child in Skiatook.

It only got worse.

They don't appreciate
my way of living.

There are other books in my
collection with my notes in them.

Those books are…

And I'm gonna
say this plain as day:

Don't trust any of 'em.

Not even my wife.

She's a part of it.

So file the
fucking extension.

Yeah, come on in.

No, not you, my neighbor.
He's a fucking loon.

Best kind though.
Keeps me entertained.

Yeah.

Okay, I'll see you
at the golf course.

Hmm. Um, just…

All right. Well, I'll see you on the
back nine then, you piece of shit.

-Y-You are. No, you're a piece of shit.
-Ooh.

Whoa.

No, you're a piece of shit.

No, you are a piece of shit.

Because you're a piece of shit.

Well, probably… Excuse me.

Probably because your
mom's a piece of shit too.

Fuck you, you piece of shit.

A piece of shit. S-H-I-toot.

Son, you belong in the toilet.

That sounds good. All right,
peace. Of shit.

Sorry, that guy's a total, uh…

-Piece of shit.
-Yeah, he's an asshole.

All right, listen, I'm
gonna need my painting,

and if you could
store this for me?

Uh, is this expensive?

Well, it's a
one-of-a-kind kinda deal.

No, no, no, no, leave it
in the plastic, please.

All righty.

Texas by the Tail, huh? Is it any good?

Yeah, it's great.

I'll be back to
pick it up shortly.

-Don't kill yourself there.
-Yeah, I got it.

Okay.

Thank you very much.
Here's your club.

-There you go. Thank you, sir.
-Yup.

Hey, what do you say we
get some lunch sometime?

-Yeah, man.
-You like Lebanese food?

There's this new…

Walks out. Fucking
piece of shit.

Now, what do you need,
besides, of course, my good company?

Oh. Come on.

Is that a real Joe Brainard?

You know it.

Wait a minute. Where
have I seen this before?

-Lee.
-Nobody needs to know where you found it.

Now I got my
fingerprints all over it.

How much you want?

All right, I can't
officially sell it,

but… …I
was thinking 2,000...

-2,000? For a stolen...
-Yeah. For a finder's fee.

-Oh, a finder's fee.
-Yeah.

-That's what we're calling it now?
-Worth a lot of money, Ray.

I can… I can give you 1,500.

Okay, but sell it to
a super cool gallery.

Like… Like one of the
nice ones, you know?

-Don't sell it to these cheesy white guys.
-Believe me,

I hide all the good
stuff whenever they come.

Either that or I tell them that it
was previously owned by a drag queen.

All right, let's do
what we gotta do here.

Oh, Jesus.

Why do I have the feeling
that this ain't it?

-I need one more thing.
-I bet you do.

Yeah, it's just I need you to
go back to that estate sale

and get some of
Dale's books for me.

-What?
-Yeah, the-the-the crime novels.

They're in his
study. Uh…

-Well, why?
-Let's just say

I'm proving myself right again,
and they won't sell them to me.

Well, why don't you just hit
up your good friend Vicky?

-You two are tight as testicles.
-Nah, come on. Please, please, please.

All right, all right. I got the
bitch on speed dial. Hang on.

Vicky. Hey, how are you?

I bet you're tired.

Oh, you're still there?

Well, you know, I
was wondering, Vicky,

if you had sold those, uh, those
books up in Mr. Washberg's study?

-Jim Thompson, crime.
-The Jim Thompson. Yeah, those.

Uh-huh. Yeah, I'm a bit
of a book freak. Uh-huh.

Now, give me a good price now. I-I-I
want 'em, but I don't need 'em.

-Nice. Nice.
-All right.

I'm poor as a church mouse, Vicky.

What? No.

All right, yeah. Okay,
well, I can do that.

Yes, thank you. Yeah,
I'll come by today.

Thank you, Vicky. You stay beautiful now.

All right. I'm picking
'em up this afternoon.

-Beautiful. Well done. Well done.
-Price is 1500.

Well, I…

-1500…
-Mm-hmm.

1500. Take it or leave it.

Of course, that doesn't
include my finder's fee.

I gave that to you free
because I'm a friend!

Man, what about the scammers
with the check-cashing place?

-The scam… No. No, no, no.
-Over on Mingo…

I wanna hit the skinheads again.
I really do. I'm onto something.

These guys are dumb as rocks,
but what they're into is…

Hey, honey, just go get
your check with Martha.

All right, Cyrus. Let me
know when you need me again.

I got you. Cover up.

Whoo.

-This goddamn phone.
-What? What is it?

You saw that big bowl of beautiful
just passed us in the hallway?

-Yeah.
-That's what's wrong.

I fired my photographer, so now I
gotta take my own damn pictures.

I can't seem to figure out getting this
photo out of the phone into my emails.

-Could you do me a favor, please?
-What?

Get the fuck out of my barber's
chair, please. Come over here.

-All right.
-Thank you.

-Why don't you just get an IT guy?
-Ah, shit.

That was my fucking photographer.

Man! You look like mashed dog shit,
brother. You've been in a fight?

Just a little bit. Those two skinheads,
they didn't like the article I wrote.

You wanna double back
around and write another?

What should I do? Invite 'em
out for dinner? Buy 'em tea?

No, man, I want to set off
a flare, kick up the rocks,

and see what the
roaches do at night.

I know these guys are
connected to the Washbergs.

And I have hard proof that
Dale Washberg did not kill himself.

-Dale Washberg? You...
-Hmm.

-You read my paper?
-Of course.

It's booty and bad guys.

No Pulitzer Prize winning,
no awards are coming.

-It is seedy Tulsa shit, all right?
-Yeah.

And all I wanna do is shame some
criminals, clean up my neighborhood.

I put the Washbergs in here,

they'll put me out of business
so fast my head will spin.

All right, new angle.

These skinheads,

they are running dope
and girls, all right?

Sex trafficking. That's
the word on the street.

-For real?
-For real.

You know, I hate to see
women being abused, man.

Thank you,
Mama. She taught me that.

Dope, skinheads,
sex trafficking.

Booty and bad guys in one article. A
thousand words, and I put 'em down.

I'll tell you what…

Here, take this.

What's that?

Fucking Subway sandwich.
What do you mean?

-No, I know what it is, okay?
-Yeah.

-What am I supposed to do with it?
-Bro, you got beat up.

You're not my favorite swinging dick
in Tulsa, but I'll tell you this:

I don't want you out there getting
hurt doing something for me.

Doesn't have any bullets.

You're gonna have to rob a
bank or go to Bass Pro Shop.

All right. I'll go to Bass Pro.

-Got that thang on me.
-Hey. Stop.

Don't be a fucking
idiot. Put the gun up.

It's not fucking Menace II
Society or New Jack City.

-All right, how about an advance?
-What do you think I am? The Tulsa gusher?

-Fuckin' Heartland Press?
-Come on, man.

Just a little bit to get bullets,
grease the rails a little bit.

-A thousand words by midnight tonight.
-Thousand words by midnight tonight.

Got 200 bucks for you
and I got some advice.

-What's that?
-Don't be fucking stupid.

Got it.

Fucking white men that care.

Saddest of the bunch.

What's up, pedo?

-Hey, I got your paper.
-Hey.

Cool.

Who is that?

Oh. That's my cousin Waylon.

-He called me "pedo."
-Yeah,

-he's been calling you that.
-Why?

You drive that creepy
white van. You get paid?

Yeah. Well, no, but I got
a little something for you.

Okay.

-What's this?
-It's just for gas, food, money.

There's more coming.

Okay. Uh, thanks.

-I like your pussy.
-Oh, thanks.

The tattoo, I mean.

Yeah, I got it.

No, it's just... It's-it's
cooler than I thought.

I know.

-Why is your cousin here?
-He wants you to give him a job.

Well, I can't
afford to pay you.

What about security?

He just got out of McAlester. He's
a member of a native prison gang.

We don't need
security. We're good.

You just got your ass kicked.

Yeah, so people get beat
up. It happens all the time.

Yeah, but this is your place of
business. That affects me too.

-Uh, yo, Waylon. I'm Lee.
-What's up?

So you think you can
protect the place, huh?

Yeah, I got you, dawg.
Yo, I'm Indian Mafia.

-Nobody fucks with us.
-Okay, okay. Yeah.

Well, I mean, like, one… one gang
tries to fuck with us, but...

Who are they?

Uh, some prison
shit. Deadly Natives.

Yeah, it's just, we go back
and forth all the time.

-It's all good though.
-Are they dangerous?

They're
called "Deadly Natives."

-What the fuck you think?
-Okay.

But, yo, hey, don't even
trip 'cause we're deadlier.

Plus they ain't gonna come
fuck with a bookstore.

Half those motherfuckers are… They're
half retarded. They can't even read.

-Yeah, okay, I...
-All right, look, hey, hey.

Leave the bad guys to me, pedo.

I got you, dude.
Yo, I'm a killer, dude.

I've killed people.
Fucking…

Uh, Waylon, I don't
have any money, right?

And I can't pay you till
the end of the month.

And even then, if I don't make a big
sale, I won't be able to pay you, so…

Yo, as long as I could sleep
here, you report to my PO,

do my paperwork every week...

Sleep here?

Well, yeah. Fuck, they broke in at night.

No sense in me sticking around
scratching my ass all day, dude.

Hey, you tell me to fuck up any
motherfucker and I will do it.

You just say the word.
I kill people. Lee.

Okay, all right. You know what? Let's
give it a month. See how it goes.

-Okay.
-All right.

Whew.

Shit.

Mama will not believe this.

Exactly. It's not everybody who's
gonna take you to this, right?

But you can count on your dad to
come through on the important things.

Uh-oh.

Here comes trouble.

How are you?

Nice to see you.
Good to see you.

Yeah, see? Portrait
of an asshole.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

You gotta be kidding me.

No, no, I'm not politicking
today. Just buying some cattle.

Guy's been politicking
his whole life.

I'm with you
all the way, Governor.

Oh, you know something? You squeezed it
out of me now. I wanna say something.

Folks, I'm here to bring this
state back to the basics.

-Mm-hmm. Oil and beef.
-Oklahoma is about…

Wait for it.

…good country folks.

That's the way I
intend to keep it.

We love oil and we love beef,
and if you like those things…

If you like those things,
now, you best vote for me…

…all right?

-Hear! Hear! Yeah! Amen!
-Is that about right? Yeah?

I can count on
you? Is that right?

Thank you. Let's focus on the
beef today, shall we? All right.

God bless you, man.

And you're in our
thoughts too, Betty Jo.

Thank you.

All right.

Oh, now. Whoa.

-Oh, my. Very strange indeed.
-What?

What? Tell me.

All right. You see the clown
that was just talking, right?

-See the woman next to him?
-Yeah.

Her husband committed
suicide a week ago.

Now she's sitting with her
dead husband's brother…

And, I mean, do they
look cozy to you?

-Yeah.
-Yeah, right?

-It's weird, right?
-Yeah, very cozy.

You knew they would
be here, didn't you?

That's why we're here, isn't it?

No, I mean, I-I wanted
to bring you here.

Mm-hmm.

This is even better. It's
like we're on a stakeout.

Right? That we are, that
we are. And popcorn too.

Fuck. Here we go.

-Get point 3-8.
-That's just .38.

How'd you get all these?

Just trading with people.
I'm not much of a gun guy.

Wow, these will kill a man, huh?

-These are bullets, okay?
-No, I know.

-And if you kill someone, then I can't…
-Yeah. I'm not gonna kill anybody. Okay?

I just mean these are…
These are good bullets.

Lee, listen, if you kill
someone, I'm a tax attorney.

-Right.
-Okay? I can't do capital...

Who are you talking to?

Under no circumstances
did you get these from me.

Hello again, Mr. Maroon Kia.

But what about self-defense,
right? Come on. That's…

Self-defense? If you get yourself in a
situation and there's no other option,

then, yes, I understand that,
but under no circumstances

-did you get these from me.
-Did I get them from you.

You could've said that
in the first place.

You wanna follow me? You
keep following me, baby.

Come on. I got
something for you.

You know, my grandma told me

not to stick my hand in the hornet's
nest unless I wanted to get stung.

Pain is only temporary.

-Until it ain't.
-Hmm.

You know, there's

nothing worse than a
white man who cares.

I keep hearing that.

Come on. Come on, come
on, come on, fuck face!

All right.

Yeah.

"Oh, yeah."

-Motherfucker.
-Go down.

-Is that so? You motherfucker.
-That's enough. No!

-No! No. No!
-Let's go! Come on!

I'm not getting in there.

-Watch your fucking fingers.
-Get down!

Yeah, right.

You're probably 12 years old living
at your fucking mom's house, dude.

At my work, pussy.

Hey.

Damn it.

Let me out, you fuckers!

Hey! Let me out!

-Shut the fuck up back there.
-Motherfucker. You make one noise,

we got someone at your
daughter's fucking school.

Fuck.

So you see him?

There he is.

Sorry, I…

I told you never to come by
my work or anywhere in public.

-But we got...
-I don't care if it's

at the grocery store.

You do not come to me in public.

Again, sorry.

What do you want?

Well, we got something that
your boss is gonna love.

Mm-hmm.

Who's my boss?

I guess you're the boss?

I'm not a boss.

Whoever your boss
is, you're gonna love it.

Yeah, either one of 'em. Uh-huh.

Fuck you talking about?

Look, I know we fucked up
before with the last one.

That's why we're so happy to
report, boy, have we made up for it.

All right, follow me.

I'm-I'm following you?

-Is that a yes?
-Yeah.

I-I-I'll follow you
anywhere, Allen.

Allen?

Shit.

Seems pretty pissed.

Fuck.

What the
fuck is he doing?

-What?
-I don't fucking know.

You want us to get out?

-Well?
-I guess we're getting out.

-Here?
-Yeah.

-Us?
-I don't fucking know.

Fuck.

Hey, Allen.
Beautiful spot.

So, like we were saying, we're
real sorry about the thing.

-Shut the fuck up!
-Whoa!

-Allen, what are you doing?
-Down on your knees.

Let's
just talk. Come on.

-Get down.
-No.

Let's make this
up. Allen, please.

Oh, fuck. Oh, shit.

Hey, hey, no. I'm fine...

Shit.

Hey!

Hey! Help me! Get
me out of here!

Hello?

-Hmm? Someone's there.
-Hey. Hey, kids.

Hi. Hey. Hey! Right here!

Hey, kids, hey!

Hello!

Are you in the trunk?

Yes! Yes! Yes, I'm
in the trunk! Help me!

Let me out!

What if you're a murderer?

No, I'm not a
murderer. I'm being murdered.

Let me out. Let me out.

Are you letting me out?

No, no, no, don't go. Don't go.

I'm nice. I'm good.

Sorry, man.

"Sorry"? Let me out!

Hello?

Hello?

Who are you?

Bob Wills is still
the king, Lee.

What are you doing here?

-I've been following you.
-God…

-Just…
-Let me out!

Just hold on.

-Just hold on.
-F-Fuck!

-Fuck.
-All right, now listen. Now listen.

Fuck.

-What the fuck are you? No.
-Let me explain.

-I swear…
-Okay.

…I'll put it in your
fucking head. Right now.

-Calm the fuck down.
-I'll do it. I'll do it.

Calm the fuck down. Okay?

-Hey!
-Shit, fuck. Shit.

Stay away!

You crazy bastard.

I'll see you at Sweet Emily's.

Motherfucker.

Goodbye, motherfucker!

Ha!

Shit.

Fuck.

What the fuck? Wow.

I liked your
Heartland Press article.

What? What, you read it?

What'd you like about it?

It just felt like you.

-Really? Hmm.
-Like

when I'm talking to you.

The way you write about Tulsa.

There's bad things about it,
but underneath it's really good.

Yeah.

Watch me now. Watch me now.

Hello?

Yeah, hey, hey. It's me.

I just… I wanna let you know
that, um…

…we're good on time
and, um, you know.

Just, uh, letting you
know I-I got the money

for the-the house
and stuff, you know?

Told you I was good
for it.

Oh.

Okay, well, that's great.

Yeah, right?

Well, we're at the park, and, uh,
Johnny's with us, just so you know.

Oh.

Okay. Cool.

Yeah, right. Gotcha.

See you in 30?

Uh…

Thirty. Yeah.

You know what? Make
it 40. Forty's good.

All right, that's fine.
See you at the park.

Okay. All right, see you then.

Gotcha.