Original subtitles

Got a shoe box, Wesley.

I wonder if I can have a look at that box.

Now, they're not all in there, Wesley.

- But there's quite a few. - Hello.

You've reached Pirdoo Pawn. This is Glenn Pirdoo.

I'm not here to provide prompt assistance right now.

- This boy's disappeared? - Yes, Judge.

And Paul Allen Brown wrote

that he would make a little girl disappear?

Yes. Judge.

Okay, Wesley. Arrest him.

I might be incorrigible.

You know what that words means? It means bad beyond correction.

I know what it means.

They don't know it,

but I'm those kids' real dad.

Those two, the big ones.

Hop in.

Petition for passport.

Name?

Donald DeLoash.

But I got a plan. Cool plan.

Listen, I'm gonna put a breathing mechanism in there.

Oh, fuck.

There we fucking go.

- Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm. -

- There we go. There we fucking go. -

Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm. There we go.

There we fucking go. Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm.

There we go. There we fucking go.

Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm.

There we go. There we fucking go.

Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm.

There we go. There we fucking go.

I wish I had a way.

Way to what?

Way to thank you.

For getting me chin-up.

And back up in these stars... Pa.

Well, that's thanks enough, honey.

My head was in the dirt.

I remember.

Right down there.

I saw it.

I'm good with numbers.

Maybe I can help you in that respect...

in the church, bills and such.

Well, we have a pile of those.

Shouldn't he be back at the creeper house?

I take him out now and then.

I'm trying to build something there,

something ongoing, you know, between us.

In case I need him later, I guess.

To take sides.

For his part, he's happy to be out... Dave.

I'm going to El Paso to receive Paul Allen Brown.

Has he been arrested?

He was arrested 10 minutes ago in Hermosillo.

He'll be back in El Paso tonight.

* Perpetual Grace, When Doves Cry

- Synced and corrected by Firefly- - www.addic7ed.com -

I've had a pretty interesting life.

I was born on June 4, 1944,

in an orphanage -

to a 15-year-old orphan.

Lucky me.

I had 100 mothers, ages 6 to 17,

and that was okay.

Some children have no love, you know?

Anyway, I was born for real on July 20, 1969,

the night we landed on the moon.

Or so I've been told.

They're setting up the flag now.

I guess you're about the only person around

that doesn't have TV coverage of the scene.

What's your family like? Tell me.

Can't.

Why?

I'm an orphan, so... yeah.

Shit.

- What? - Shit.

What, you don't date orphans?

No, no. I mean, shit, that's my thing.

What's your thing?

Bein' an orphan.

I was lining up that detail about me

with the question about your family.

'Cause sometimes I use my tragic orphan past

to get men to sympathize with me and then... you know.

- I do that, too. - Mm.

Except to women.

I was mentioning my tragic orphan past

in these moments

so that you would sympathize with me and then...

... you know.

Who did this?

Who did this, Miss?

I did.

I did this.

Your husband has my wife in his fucking prison.

I want her back.

Your Sheriff husband doesn't load his Sheriff gun.

Fucking useless.

Useless husband, useless gun.

Join them.

"Sergeant Luke Steel had gained a little weight.

He was still sexy and hot and a damn good cop.

But his wife only mentioned

the part about his weight all the time."

Is this you?

Hmm? Is this you, Miss?

Do you pester your Hector about his weight?

I'm unconcerned about his weight.

I am concerned about his health.

Have you read this?

Have you read this, Miss?

This shit?

He's developing.

"Luke Steel drew his gun with his hand."

Oh, he didn't use his foot.

"He aimed his gun with his hand at the per... perpetrator."

Misspelled.

"Halt, Perpetrator"... misspelled.

"'Halt, Perpetrator', Luke Steel exclaimed.

'Yeah, halt', Steel's partner, Rod Powers, also exclaimed."

I hope that's for another family member.

Byron.

Doves are fascinating, and ordinarily, I'm a big fan.

But this little fucker is making an awful racket

during my important and possibly final moments

of trying to be heard.

- Aw! -

Ha!

Yes!

I'm getting married, Ma.

Who to?

Lonnie Sholes.

Lonnie's homosexual.

Lonnie's completed a conversion course

in Cleaver.

Completed this when? Lonnie?

At 1:00... P.M.

You're marrying a man who was homosexual 12 minutes ago?

I'm afraid.

Afraid of what?

Sliding on back.

I'm incorrigible, Ma.

I disdain this word. I loathe it.

To be told, via this word, that you cannot change,

that you cannot advance, evolve, develop.

Fuck that word. Fuck that.

All life will change, if loved.

Doves...

Doves are high-flying fighter birds.

Aggressive.

Young doves.

Little red barons. Predatory.

And then doves find their mates, and they're altered.

They're delivered... by love.

Calmed, soothed,

changed into doves...

by love.

Byron delivered me, converted me.

And I converted him with love.

Lonnie won't save you with Christian love.

To be saved, you need love that comes from the nuts...

his nuts and your girl nuts, Honey.

It's too late.

Your confidentiality standards, are they the highest?

In the world?

No, like, are they... Like, if I receive...

This is a conservative community.

If I receive liberal, say, news publications

like The New York Times or The Guardian or a strap-on,

will they... that will be confidential?

Yeah.

- For instance. - Okay.

Great. And you have, um...

You have various P.O. box sizes?

There are. We have five P.O. box sizes.

My box will need to be longer than 7 and a 1/2 inches.

Okay.

It's loaded now, boy.

Fat and happy.

Sit.

May I read something to you?

May I read something to you?

"Steel and Powers

walked into the hot field of numerous black crows."

Now, can we study this sentence?

"Into the hot field of numerous black crows."

Man. Come on, man.

What?

Black crows, man.

So what?

Let me ask you... What fucking other color of fucking crows

have you seen, Sheriff?

White crows? Red? Gray?

You know a beige crow?

Write "crow". Plain and simple.

Plain crow. Plain and simple.

The necessary, Sheriff. The necessary.

What have you written?

I haven't written a dot about numerous black crows,

ma'am, in hot fields.

You have me on that.

Bring my wife here immediately.

Your husband's a fucking crumb.

A fucking crumb husband and father.

Get my wife, Crumb. Bring my wife, Crumb.

Fucking bring my wife, you fucking crumb.

I have your wife. I'll take you to her.

I'm the only one in the world who knows where she is.

But you have to leave my family.

You have to come with me now, leave my family,

you crazy fuck.

Bad news, lads. That's your dad.

Honey?

Yeah?

This is gonna be so special... tonight.

Cool.

Not like last time.

Or the time before that.

Not like any of the times.

I'm more "not gay" this time,

'cause of the program.

Cool.

'Cause I've really been applying myself to the program.

Cool.

Yeah. Honey, you know what'd be fun?

What would?

If we turned all the lights out and closed the curtains

so we couldn't see anything... or each other... at all.

Why would that be fun?

Well, we'll be, like... like, in outer space or something.

Okay.

Cool.

"When Luke Steel finally cheated on his wife

after never doing it for... for so many years,

like 30 years, it was like he really didn't have a choice."

- Stop, man. - "Veronica understood Luke Steel

in a way that his wife didn't,

his specialness in terms of maybe be..."

"being a little overweight

but also having a sexy accent to her American ears."

I mean, seriously, man?

"Luke's wife was Mexican like Luke,

so her ears were Mexican.

So his words sounded normal.

But to Veronica, they sounded captivating and cool.

Luke Steel was captivating and cool,

even though he had put on some weight,

so he really had no choice but to be his real self

and to start fucking Veronica in Albuquerque

at a Sheriff's convention."

Dishonest. Dishonest.

What?

Dishonest.

It's... That's fucking true, man.

The special thing fades, man.

Not my special thing. Not mine.

Still special, my special thing.

Still lovely. Still fresh. Rewarding.

We keep it. Refine it.

Cherish. Cultivate. Shine it.

You... quit, man.

You quitter.

Affairs? None. 50 years... nil.

Didn't permit that weakness. Didn't allow that selfishness.

Didn't quit my promise.

You, late middle age,

no longer in striking distance of your fighting weight,

concocting unhappiness to justify selfishness.

Shit husband.

What are you talking about?

Shit husband. That's what you are.

I don't care what else you are.

If that's what you are, that's what you are.

Shit husband.

I heard you.

She's deserving of love, your wife, deserving of love.

Fought like hell. Fought like fucking hell.

Pulled it, pulled the trigger.

Killer for love... your love.

You should love her, you dumb fuck.

You have an old copy.

Have what?

I did a revision.

You're reading from an old copy, so...

Just so you know.

Oh, there were times I was lonely as a child

without that bright, guiding light,

the big light of a mother and dad.

But what you learn is,

as you're wandering along,

that's just big love.

And you can find it elsewhere... some can...

if they're the lucky ones.

And I'm one of them, for sure.

Fuck.

"Fuck" what?

What the fuck? She was like...

Like what?

The breathing stick.

That was the indicator.

That was, like, the position indicator.

Fuck.

Lillian!!

Byron...

Lillian!!

Fuck.

Hey, bird, get the fuck out of here.

It's not a bird. It's a dove.

Fuck.

I mean, it's a bird, but it's... it's not a bird singing.

It's a dove crying.

- Fuck. - What the fuck?

- It's a dove... - I heard you.

... crying.

I thought that was just a song.

Doves, they mate for life.

When their mate dies, they cry. They cry for months.

They remain beside them, and they cry for months.

Piercing, when doves cry.

- That's this noise? - That's this noise.

Lillian!

Don't!

- Don't what?! - Don't shoot him!

I can't even see him.

I... I was trying to frighten him off.

My wife's buried in a field.

And you buried her alive, Sheriff,

and you're going soft on a bird?

- His lady died, man. - My lady's underground.

Forgive me for the warning shot.

Jesus!

Listen, you.

It's awful, all right,

what you're going through.

All right?

You're not alone, mate. Not alone.

Your love is lost. Mine nearly.

But I can act in time.

Sir, I can.

But you must stop.

You must.

You must stop.

Lillian!!

Hector! Hector!

Hector!!

- Shit. -

Close the fucking door!

Lillian!!

Byron.

Lillian!!

Byron.

We got to chop down this fucking tree.

What?

We got to chop down this fucking tree.

Let's chop down this fucking tree.

- Get it. Get the rhythm. - Get it. There we go.

- No. - What?

- It's "Get it. Get the rhythm". - Cool.

"Get the rhythm" comes next. Then it's "There we go".

Right, yeah. Cool.

- Get it. Get the rhythm. - That's later, though, right?

- The "There we go"? - Yes.

It's two "get the rhythms", then the "there we go".

Okay.

Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm.

- There we go. There we go. - There we go. There fucking go.

- I-I didn't say "fuck". Fuck. - It's all right, it's all right.

- Get it when she comes around again. - Cool.

Get it.

- Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm. - Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm.

There we go. There we fucking go.

There we fucking go!

Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm.

There we go. There we fucking go.

Byron.

Hey, man. What the fuck?

What the fuck about what, man?

You and your wife and your other lady friend.

What the fuck?

Love.

What I can say, man?

Love is so mysterious.

You know, man, I have to tell you,

you're really fucking stupid.

Why?

Because I love a lady who's not my wife?

No, because you don't know what love is.

Love is when you want to fuck a woman all the time.

No, it's not, you fucking infant.

Then you tell me what you think that love is truly all about.

Love will never ebb like sex, will never leave,

for the briefest moment, the deep middle of your human body.

Doesn't come and go with the puny power of our chemistry.

Love defies it.

Your wife is strong with love, you fucking moron.

Would your girlfriend fight me like a fucking contender,

through living rooms, through corridors, kitchens?

Would she gift you a poet's tool, a typewriter,

to continue your tremendously shitty detective novel?

Probably not.

Fuck.

No, fuck.

This other girl is just sexy.

She told me one time,

"Come over here and fuck my socks off."

But she wouldn't fight you in my kitchen.

Oh, my God.

I made a mistake.

Hey, man, stop fucking crying.

Stop fucking lying. You have love in you.

Why did you return, Sheriff?

Why are you here, huffing and puffing?

So you can get your little wife back

and go away from me

and leave my fucking family alone.

That's love, boy.

Now, let's chop this motherfucker down,

then you go home and love the one worth loving.

Love the one worth loving. Love the one worth loving.

I will, man. Straight.

Go home, fuck your wife's socks off.

I will, man. Straight.

I mean, after I untape my kids.

But straight after that.

Then at the end of your long lives,

you and your wife, you'll sing for her a family song,

this bird song, greater than a mating song,

a mourning song for the love you shared.

For the love you shared, for the love you shared,

- for the love you shared. - Fuck yeah!

- For the love you shared. - Fuck yeah.

- For the love you shared. - Fuck yeah.

- For the love you shared. - Fuck yeah.

- For the love you shared. - Fuck yeah.

- For the love you shared. - Fuck yeah. Yeah!

Byron.

Hang in there.

- I can't. I can't. - Please.

There we go. There we go.

Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm.

There we go. There we fucking go.

Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm.

There we go. There we fucking go.

Get it. Get the rhythm. Get the rhythm.

There we go. There we fucking go.

There you fucking go.

Lillian!!

Byron.

Hector, please.

Ohh!

Please, Hector.

I can't stop.

You must, Hector.

I'm just...

I'm just gonna pass out.

Lillian!!

Byron.

Byron.

Byron.

Thank you, Hector.

No problem, man.

Ohh!

Is she alive?

Ma'am, are you...?

Yeah, just keeping my peepers closed...

on account of the dirt.

There's no more dirt, Lillian.

You're with me.

Oh, s�, s�.

Donny... he's out.

Oh, fuck.

Where is he?

Drawing near, I wager,

while trying to find money for a gun.

Pound me.

What?

The New Leaf, switch-back, Mexico, double-cross, James.

Pound me in celebration.

I'm picturing the Ranger's face being like, "What"?!

"How could this ever, ever happen to me?

Whoa!

I'm so confused, I'm just gonna go back to Texas

and open up a yogurt store or something

and quit investigating this whole thing."

I don't think...

Not yogurt yet, Paul.

I haven't figured out a way to send him all the way

to... yogurt.

But we're still in it.

We're still in it.

"Hey, James", called Paul.

"Hey, Paul".

I could hear you guys out on the porch

getting all into each other.

Going over some Mexico info,

then going into the yogurt stuff.

They yogurt phase of fucking with a Texas Ranger.

I know what you guys are doing.

And I've been looking into your parents' private accounting.

- Crumb. - What?

Fucking crumb.

- Who? - Your son.

My son?

We probably should get a gun, Pa.

Got one, Ma.

- Off who? - Off the Sheriff.

Nice one.

What's this about your thumb?

Former.

- How's that? - Former thumb.

It was keeping me from you, so I nixed it.

Love you.

Love you, too.

- Donny. - Yeah.

- Fuck. - Yeah.

How are you doing?

Uh... little tired.

We'll find a ride.

Someone will give a nice old couple a ride.

Right.

And if no one's kind enough to stop for a nice old couple,

well, I'll stand in the middle of the road

and force the issue with my new gun.

Classic.

Buenos d�as, ladies.

- Synced and corrected by Firefly- - www.addic7ed.com -