Dog Pound

Aw! Enough of that shit!

Shut the fuck up, bitch.

Don't call me a bitch.

You're so beautiful.

- Get out of your fucking room! Turn it lower, for God's sake!

Sorry, Mom!

Are you all right, kid?

You little fuck!

- Did you make this? - No.

- Your cellmate told me you made this.

Don't hit me again.

Don't do that again, man!

- Are you threatening me, boy? - I'm fucking threatening you, man!

- Do you know where you are? - Fucking right, bitch!

Fuck you! Don't do it again!

- I'm gonna come back in five and you're gonna give me a name.

And that's an order.

Fucking cunt!

Fuck you!

- Gentlemen, strip out of your civilian clothes

and place all of your belongings in the box with your name on it.

We'll give back your shoes once this search is complete.

All of your belongings.

Shake your hair.

Wiggle your fingers.

Spread your toes.

Blow your nose.

Now turn around.

Bend over.

Cough.

Harder.

Stand up.

Turn around.

- Okay, boys, now we'll get you dressed.

Gentlemen, welcome to Enola Vale Youth Correctional Facility.

I'm your superintendent, Mr. Sands.

If you have any problems or any questions during your stay here,

you will report them to your unit supervisor,

in this case, Officer Goodyear.

He will then report it to me.

As for school, your re-socialization unit supervisor...

... basic rules around the place.

You better be listening.

No weapons, no sharp items.

No pornographic material, no illegal substance,

no tobacco, no alcohol

and no signs of gang activity will be permitted

on the facility of Enola Vale.

Any questions?

Excellent.

You're 30 minutes late again. What's your excuse this time?

- Did I miss something? - That's not the point.

You're late and it's becoming an ongoing habit.

- Were they prepped on the basics? - I just did that.

Good. Perfect timing.

Well, what fresh hellions are these?

Angel.

Davis.

Guilty as charged.

- Yeah, well, do me a favor, sunshine.

Yank the pants up.

There's no gangster wannabes on my unit.

Butch.

Gentlemen, pick up your belongings.

Single file.

Where are you two mutts coming from?

- We just finished Social Studies class, Mr. G.

- And where are you going? - Going to the library.

- I'm gone the weekend, I come back,

and you're in Special Unit. What happened?

- Nothing. - What you do?

I didn't do nothing.

- No, you didn't do anything. And that makes sense.

They throw you in the hole for two days for not doing nothing.

- Why are you bothering him? He told you he didn't do anything.

- What, are you his lawyer? - No.

I'm a judge.

- Pull your pants up and move on. - All right, Mr. G.

- Like to see you out of that costume by the end of the week too.

Let's go.

Butch, bed on the far left. Davis, straight ahead.

Angel, right here.

Stow your gear and come over here and line up.

Listen carefully. This is a new day for you gentlemen.

No one in here cares about any felonies you may have committed in the past.

The judge may have given you a sentence,

but in reality, your sentence all depends on your behavior.

You show some good will towards change

and you get an earlier parole hearing with the judge.

Am I boring you, sunshine?

No, sir.

Good.

'Cause I read your report and you should be listening the closest.

Right now, you're all Level 1.

Evaluations will determine for us

whether you actually want to change and rehabilitate.

Show us some improvements and you can move to Level 2

and become a trustee.

You'll notice these gentlemen

by their sports black pants and their polo shirts.

They've acknowledged they've made some poor choices in life,

but they've proven to staff,

and more importantly to themselves,

that they're ready to re-enter society with the necessary skills

to avoid further criminal behavior.

Becoming a trustee comes with a lot of privileges.

But if you mess up,

if you try any crazy stuff on anybody in here or yourself

or you try to bust out, well, congratulations.

You just won an orange suit and a free trip to Special Unit.

So, gentlemen, make your stay pleasant here

by being good to yourself,

your peers and the staff, and I guarantee you'll be all right.

All right, unpack.

- Good, boys. Hot bowl of shit coming right up.

- You stinkin' like shit. - No, I don't.

Thanks, partner.

Do some dishes or something, Loony. Fuck!

Fuck your dishes!

Loony, he thinks he's...

No.

Hurry up. Keep it moving.

Is this seat taken?

- Somebody get clumsy with the ladle?

Don't move on it, man.

You'll just end up in the hole where that asshole Banks wants you.

The best thing...

just pay no mind.

Eventually, they'll leave you alone like they did me.

I mean, that was also because I have AIDS.

You know, we all know why you're in here,

especially Banks.

You like that one, huh?

It's pretty cool.

- It's for all the virgins I corrupted, man.

Yo, drop it and flush it!

Don't worry 'bout it.

What the fuck?

- Throw me back my toothpaste, man. - Fuck you! Get it yourself!

Fucking prairie nigger.

- Sal! - What?

Come here.

All right, gentlemen. Let's settle down.

Sal, get back in your bed.

Good night, gentlemen.

- Hey, Goodyear. - Morning. How was the night?

No problems.

Control, open gate B2, please.

- Thank you, sir. - Have a good day.

You too.

Control, open dormitory A1.

Wakey, wakey!

Hands off snaky! Let's go!

Let's go, gentlemen.

A two-minute window to get the bed made.

Ends of the bed when you're done.

Let's go, guys. Shake it off.

Mr. Angel Ortiz, grab your bucket and mop.

Come with me.

He's right here.

What's up, man?

How's it going, man?

What's up?

- You just get here? - Yeah.

Yeah, that's cool.

How much time did you get?

- Three months, man. - Oh!

- Just three? - Just three.

- Shit! - That ain't shit, cuz.

You know, I just did three months fucking three times.

I could do that on my fucking head in the hole. You know what I mean?

- Yeah. Yeah. So how long you got, man?

- What do you mean, how long I got?

Who the fuck's business is that, man?

- Just asking, man. I don't know.

- Don't be asking no stupid punk-ass questions around here.

You'll go get yourself hurt, boy.

Yeah, all right, man.

- You looking to get fucked up? - No, man.

- Looking to get fucked up? - Relax, relax!

Huh? Looking to get fucked up?

Just fucking with you, man. This nigger's a bitch, cuz.

- No, man. - Brush it off. Calm down, man.

Your boots, though, man...

They're looking, uh, pretty nice, man.

Where did you get those at?

- At the mall. - At the mall?

- Yeah. - How much were they?

- They were, like, I don't know, 100 bucks.

- Your mom give you those kicks or something? A little present?

- From mommy? - No, man.

No?

- No, man. I bought these. - You bought 'em?

- Yeah. - You a hustler, all right.

Yeah.

- Fuck! Hustler hustlin'. What size are you, 10? Big man?

Let me check them boots out. Cop 'em over.

No, man. I'm only an 8.

- What the fuck you mean, you is only an 8? Don't look like no 8!

- You fucking lying to my boy? - Don't look like a fucking 8 to me!