De første 200 linjer.
Oz.
That's the name on the street
for the Oswald Maximum Security Penitentiary.
Oz is retro.
Oz is retribution. You wanna punish a man?
Separate him from his family, separate him from himself,
cage him up with his own kind.
Oz is hard times doing hard time.
McManus, don't you ever knock?
Been through the files of the inmates that arrived today.
-I want Tobias Beecher. -Okay.
-Miguel Alvarez. -That'll be tough. He's in the hospital,
-stab wound to the chest. -He gonna live?
Apparently. MAN: Fuck you, Healy.
-All right. Shut the fuck up, asshole,
before I come in there-
-Hey, warden. -Hello, Mike.
And I want, uh, Donald Groves.
-Groves? -Yeah.
Let me ask you something, don't take this the wrong way.
-What? -Are you out of your fucking mind?
Groves is a demented sociopath without a skoosh of remorse.
-Well, maybe. -He ate his parents.
He killed them, carved them up, and he ate them.
-What can you do with him? -Teach him table manners.
The only thing a guy like that understands is punishment,
hard and swift. McMANUS: Mm-hm.
Come here and lick me.
Leo, you said it yourself, our first conversation,
all we do is recycle.
Warden, need to talk to you. -Later, Johnson, later.
A new inmate comes in, we sit on him,
send him back out, he's back with a vengeance.
If we don't do something different,
we don't do something radical, we're never gonna break the chain.
Groves isn't going out. He's here till God drop-kicks him to hell.
Do I have to call the commissioner?
I was given total autonomy to run cell block 5 my way.
Fine, take Groves.
-Thank you. -And Paul Markstrom.
Markstrom? He's a petty drug dealer,
and I got enough petty drug dealers.
You want Groves, you take Markstrom.
Why? JOHNSON: Warden, I need to talk.
Why? JOHNSON: Just give me five minutes.
He's my cousin.
Timmy McManus.
He created an experimental unit inside Oz,
a new approach to the prison problem.
Some people call it Emerald City.
To me, it's a concentration camp.
In Emerald City we got rules,
got a lot more rules than anywhere else in Oz.
Your cell is your home, keep it clean, spotless.
You are to exercise regularly, attend classes,
go to drug and alcohol counseling.
You are to work in one of the prison factories.
You are to follow the routine.
We tell you when to sleep,
when to eat, when to piss.
There is no yelling, no fighting, no fucking.
Follow the rules, learn self-discipline,
because if you'd had any self-discipline, any control over yourself at all,
you wouldn't be sitting here now.
Questions? MAN: Yeah.
-Can I go to the bathroom? Suck it in, tough guy.
Okay, these are your sponsors,
they will help you get used to the routine.
I don't want any fucking sponsors.
I don't want any fucking routine.
Shut up, Groves. -Hi, I'm Bob Rebadow.
Nice to meet you too.
Paul Markstrom, Jefferson Keane.
Yo.
Tobias Beecher, Dino Ortolani.
I really have to do this? -Cut the shit. It's your turn.
Hello.
Beecher, huh?
I'm guessing you ain't Italian. What are you in for?
Shaving strokes off your golf score?
Prisoner number 97B412, Tobias Beecher.
Convicted July 5th, '97.
Driving while intoxicated, vehicular manslaughter.
Sentence: 15 years. Up for parole in four.
In Oz, the guards lock the cages and walk away
and the predators rise, take control, and make the rules.
But in Em City, the guards are with us 24 hours a day.
There's no privacy. Everybody sees what everybody's doing.
Eyes are everywhere. McManus' eyes.
See, in Em City, retribution gives way to redemption.
Timmy boy believes he can save every one of us, from each other,
from ourselves, from the system that dumped us in here.
Only thing he don't get is, you gotta want to be saved.
Hey, Dino. How you doing?
Hey, look, pal, I know I'm supposed to be some kind of bro,
but the headline reads: "I don't give a shit about you."
That's fine, Dino. Okay.
Hey, let me give you a slice of advice.
-Mm-hm. -Get yourself a weapon.
Anyone tries to fuck with you, take them out.
-Anything else? -Yeah.
Don't smile. Ever. MAN: Dino, telephone.
What are you looking at?
You got a code for the phone, man?
-MCI. -What's the number?
Hey, Ginnie, how you doing, baby?
-Yeah, baby, I miss you too. -Get out the line.
Are the kids around?
I could have sworn I seen the motherfucker in my cell
Going through my personal effects
He fingers, fingering my cigarettes
Came out like nothing was happening Whistling his tune
So I mushed his ass, like, "Move, motherfucker, make room!
Hey. Ain't that my cigarette Hanging off the tip of your lip?"
I didn't even give him a chance For his confession
Just leveled his ass With all that aggression
Left, right, to the dolex Ha-ha-ha, foots to the chest
Uppercuts to the grill, I'm like, "Kill!" He's like, "Chill!"
Take that for me Even being in this pace
Take that for that fucking CO Baton across my face
Feel that for that lawyer Who ain't give two fucks about me
And feel this, feel this
For me being enslaved by poverty, Motherfucker
Give me them damn cigarettes
Oh, these is Marlboros I don't smoke these
I got some veal coming you are gonna love.
-Excuse me, may I sit here? -No.
-Excuse me, is anybody sitting here? -You.
-You're right, you know. -Beg your pardon?
-You're right. -About what?
Genevieve.
She's thinking about divorcing you. In fact, she's having lunch
with your old law partner to talk her through.
-How do you know my wife's name? -God told me.
Attention! According to new state health guidelines,
starting the end of the month smoking will be prohibited
inside Oswald Penitentiary.
Settle down! Settle down!
Anyone caught with tobacco will be charged
with possession of contraband and sent to ADSEG!
That is all.
So this is where they make the prison uniforms?
Well, actually, no. The uniforms come from Taiwan.
These are prison clothes we make to sell.
Sell? To who?
They're hip or hop. I'm not sure which.
Grab a bolt and pull.
You know, I'm not really used to doing this kind of work.
Not that I think there's anything wrong with it or demeaning.
-What'd you do on the outside? -I was a lawyer.
I fucking hate lawyers almost as much as I hate cops.
Count!
What now? -We go to our cells,
they count heads, then lock us up for the night.
It's 5:00. What am I supposed to do?
-What time is lights out? -100 p.m.
-What do I do for five hours? -Try to keep breathing.
Hey, what are you doing with my stuff? Come on, those are mine.
Anything you got belongs to me.
You understand?
Time to count, gentlemen. Come on out.
I was getting to know my new cell mate.
There's something in the air...
...and it ain't love.
I won't be fucking you, prag.
At least, not tonight.
Hey. Mind if I sit here?
Vern Schillinger.
I understand.
I saw last night, Adebisi giving you shit, taking your stuff.
This morning he stole my watch.
That sucks.
He tried the same shit with me when I first got here.
What did you do?
I went to McManus, asked him to switch me to another pod.
-And he did? -Yeah, sure.
Just don't say it has to do with Adebisi.
You get him in trouble and he'll kill you.
-In the meantime, wear armor. -Armor?
So...
-You ratted on me, eh? -Back off.
-Who are you telling to back off? -You, boy.
Oh, yeah? Make me back off.
Play nice.
-I'm on top. -Okay.
You're not a Jew, are you?
Me? Jewish?
I don't even like Barbra Streisand.
Like my tattoos?
I'm gonna have to get you one.
-Uh... No, thanks. -Oh, yeah.
I'm gonna brand you myself.
Livestock gets branded.
Livestock. That's what you are.
My livestock.
Because now, Tobias...
...your ass belongs to me.
They call this the penal system, but it's really the penis system.
It's about how big, it's about how long, it's about how hard.
Life in Oz is all about the size of your dick,
No comments yet. Be the first to leave one.