Original subtitles

T-minus awesome, Richard.

Almost ready to cut the ribbon.

Here's a little opening night present.

This is a demolition order!

You're not gonna tear down my place for some fuckin' mouse!

I think it's a bird.

The endangered titmouse is protected by federal law...

and I... I killed it.

Resent me? Why would you resent me?

Me and my buddies

are the species that need to be protected!

And that's why I'm running for city council!

No you don't, Richard Fitzpatrick!

That is my seat in council!

- Mine! - Chester, no, calm down!

[loud commotion]

Not the bar! Not the bar!

Fuck!

This sap has spent his whole life

doing what he's told.

And what has he got to show for it?

A ponytail.

A polyester blend shirt.

And Dockers.

Dockers!

Someone's got to teach this chump

that life is for living.

That fortune favours the bold.

And that rules are made to be broken.

I've done my research. This is the car for me.

It sure is.

A nice, mild, dependable car

that assures everyone that you are not a threat.

Not like that monster.

That car needs a real man.

Someone willing to slide inside her

and take control.

A man who knows when to ride her hard,

and when to be gentle.

So let me ask you...

...are you that man?

Nice work.

What about my tip?

Oh, don't worry, baby.

Fitzy would never leave you hanging...

Hey!

You may have a thirty percent stake here

but we're still your bosses.

So I only have to listen to you thirty percent of the time.

You have to listen to us seventy percent of the time.

- All of the time. - All of the time!

Which means you play by our rules.

High card fucks the camel first?[chuckles]

The used car lot code of ethics.

Rule number one...

Here's your cut of the commission.

Perhaps rules is too harsh.

Consider these guidelines. Suggestions.

- Cousin. - Cousin.

Hey, wonder twins. Take it outside.

- Cousin! Cousin! - Cousin! Cousin!

Break all the rules.

That's the only rule that matters.

And I follow it religiously.

COUSIN!

[♪]

All right, shitbirds.

We've got a long day ahead of us

and a lot of ground to cover.

"Operation Elect Fitz" is twenty-four hours old,

and I'm not even on the ballot.

You need to tell Larry that I'm your campaign manager.

I think we can all agree

that I'm the most qualified for the job.

[laughs] On what grounds?

I brought snacks.

Snacks? That's your contribution?

Fitz would never pick you.

To win, he needs someone ruthless.

Cutthroat.

Someone who isn't afraid to break a few rules -

or spines -

To get the job done.

If I am chosen to be the campaign manager,

I promise to do my best, to do my duty...

to God and My Country...

Hey, Fitz...

Wanna get high?

Josh McTaggart takes the lead.

Anytime, Josh. Thank you.

[♪]

[whistles]

Nice cover.

Nope. Sinatra.

Original 45s.

No, cover for the high stakes game.

Vinnie here?

No Vinnie here. And no poker, either.

I'm not vice, Fuckjuggler.

Tell Vinnie Ken Fitzpatrick's here

and he wants a real game.

With real men.

Can't believe all the gay shit going on.

Tore out the track.

They turned the bar into a yoga studio.

It's faggot fucking Friday every goddamn day.

Mr. DiNovi died a year ago

and I got this dump on the cheap.

I sanded the wooden floors

and redid the bad seventies stucco

with these two Homo hands.

And that Wurlitzer is original from Vegas.

My asshole son would blow a load for this.

Explains your homophobia.

Your son is probably gay.

No one calls my son gay except me.

You not buying, get out.

- You're asking me to leave? - I'm telling you to.

This is my turf, you colon cowboy.

You know how much it cost me to get here?

And now how am I supposed to survive?

No track, no bookie...

It's about time this dumpy strip of beach

was brought up to code.

Gay code.

Real men don't want fucking nail bars and antiques!

Real men?

You think Frank and Dean never got lonely on the road?

Shut your fucking mouth...

And don't get me started

about the pants parties JFK used to throw.

You lying sack of ass.

Ugh!

[♪]

I'm alive!

Ken Fitzpatrick is alive!

Stupid Fitzpatrick!

Kills my titmouse!

Crashes my convention!

Thinks. He. Can. Run. For. Office!

Chester, honey, what's wrong?

Nothing's wrong, Ali.

What gives you that idea?

Uh...

You can't really be mad at Fitz.

His bar closed because of you.

For the good of the speckled titmouse, Ali.

An innocent victim of human encroachment

that needs our protection from selfish predators

like Richard Fitzpatrick.

Chester, I told you...

what happened between me and Fitz

was pre-wedding jitters.

He just happened to be in the car.

We didn't do anything, I swear to -

I swear to God.

He's so sleazy, but everyone loves him.

You have nothing to worry about.

Though I do admit...

it would make life easier if he didn't exist.

Richard... this is an historic moment.

And it should be documented.

Document this.

Actually, don't.

Last thing I need

is you taking photos of me bribing the election officials.

Richard, no.

Unlike one Dot Foxley who shall remain nameless,

you can play by the rules and still get the job done.

You don't have to cut corners to be a person of action.

What the hell's gotten into you, lady-parts?

You're even more irritating than usual.

You said you wanted to run for office.

That is not a statement to make lightly.

You're asking people to sacrifice

their time, their money, their values for your cause!

- So? - Just promise me you'll do this by the book.

I promise, Larry.

No money will trade hands.

[moaning]

Now I'll add your name to the nomination list,

and we're... we're... we're...

[moaning]

[beep]

That's strange.

You're not in the computer.

According to this, you don't even exist.

Okay, I talked to the election committee,

and even though you've been erroneously deleted

from the city's computer system,

they are willing to put you on the ballot.

What's the catch?

It's not that bad... actually.

Twenty people need to sign this nomination support form.

But I already signed, so you only need nineteen more.

Fuck.

Oh, and they need your driver's license.

And passport... and birth certificate.

Original long form...

...by 5pm on Friday.

FUCK!

[starts engine]

But...

[phone rings]

How many times do I have to tell you tenacious cum bubbles,

I don't want to save on my long distance plan!

Nice.

You kiss your mother with that mouth?

Who the fuck is this?

Listen, jelly bean.

You stole that Wurlitzer from my shop.

I want it back.

Don't know what you're talking about.

You've got twenty-four hours.

After that, I'll take it by force.

Bullshit.

If you guys had any real claim

to some jukebox you think I have,

you'd have already called the cops.

Who needs the cops.

I've got the gay mafia.

That's a myth. Like Santa Claus or dolphins.

Open your eyes. We're everywhere.

And there's nothing we won't do

for a sixer of coolers

and some amyl nitrate.

[♪]

Holy shit.

You've got no idea, sunshine.

We make up ten percent of the planet's population.

That's six-hundred million of us.

I knew that!

No, you didn't.

Fuck.

You seen my birth certificate?

You have got to be fucking kidding.

Six months I've been stuck in this mental hospital

with no contact from the outside world.

What the fuck are you bitching about?

You got three hots and a cot.

It's so depressing here.

There's no cable.

No dice for the board-games.

And all everyone does is whine about their lousy childhoods.

Molested. Molested.

Molester...

Hey.

Do you know where it is or don't you?

You're so selfish.

What do I get?

Ooh!

I've got gum.

Ooh! Give it to me.

Mmm. Yummy.

After SOMEONE burned my house down,

I gave my important papers to Daddy.

Fuck. You know where he kept them?

My gosh. This gum is so delicious.

I'd sure love to have some for late-

He kept all his important stuff in his safe.

And he's got that in Miami.

Hooo!

Fuck!

Oh yeah! I got some gum.

[♪]

I just don't feel right

arriving without a housewarming gift.

It's the first rule of proper etiquette.

Listen, fabric softener - this is a surgical strike.

We get in, get my birth certificate,

and get back home.

It's getting down to the wire.

It wouldn't be if we hadn't driven around all night

looking for Carlita's.

I can't believe she moved

and didn't send a forwarding address.

Open up, ass-leak.

Just a minute, please!

[cocks shotgun] Ken sure sounds happy.

Hold your fire! It's your son!

And Larry!

What do you mean Carlita's is gone?

Fucking gay mafia paved paradise

and put up a parking lot.

It's actually a Bed, Bath and Beyond.

They've ruined the whole fucking neighbourhood.

The gay mafia?

Christ, they move in the shadows, like ninjas...

who love cock.

Why would the gay mafia give a shit about you?

I'm a fresh piece of meat.

What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?

I need my birth certificate. And not the fake one.

Figures you'd need something.

Well, this time, no more freebies.

I'm tired of being Mr. Nice Guy.

I want out of Miami with my Wurlitzer.

No fucking way.

It's a gift for your shithole lounge.

Aw, really?

Of course not, Polly-anal.

What's so important about this piece of shit?

Did you get even more retarded in the last three minutes?

I told you.

Those intestine inspectors took away my ability to earn,

so I'm taking this Wurlitzer from them.

It's my new nest egg worth forty large.

And it comes with me. Or you get shit.

Fuck. Fine.

But we're taking your wheels.

And the blow.

You can't travel with the cocaines.

What if we get caught?

[♪]

- Fuckin' hurry up, Larry. - Got it.

Wait! I forgot something.

- The fruit! - WHERE?

It's okay! I found it.

The fuck is this?

It's not a border crossing. It's not even on the map.

[nervous chuckle]

How you doin' this afternoon, officer?

Pineapple, huh?

I love pineapple.

It's nature's pharmacy.

Full of nutrients, cures irregularity,

keeps the old kidneys clean.

Even prevents the formation of plaque.

Well, if good nutrition is illegal,

then I guess I'm guilty as charged.

You're also guilty of transporting quarantined fruit

out of a restricted zone.

Huh?

Out of the fucking car!

Please don't find the gun...

Please don't find the drugs...

Please don't find the gun...

Please don't find the drugs...

Richard, this is your first test as a public official.

So whatever your instinct is telling you to do -

do the exact opposite.

Just be honest, answer all her questions truthfully,

and we will get out of this mess...

Or you'll get killed in the crossfire.

- What? - Please kill him in the crossfire.

Please let Richard get killed...

Well well well...

I hope someone can explain...

...this.

Why does the FBI give a shit about fruit?

That's all the FBI cares about.

FBI: Federal Botany Investigator.

What did you think it stood for?

That other Government agency?

Yes.

You're a fruit cop?

Figures those bitches would have their own police force.

I'm an agricultural agent.

And you've broken several federal vegetation laws

with this one bag of fruit alone.

You could each be looking at 50...

maybe 75...

...dollar fines.

Fork it over -

before she calls the real cops!

What?

This badge doesn't make me a real cop?

What about this gun?

You think it's fake? Do you?

No one doubts your credentials, ma'am.

But Jimmy Buffet here

is worried about the "real cops."

Agricultural crime is serious business.

And I'm the last line of defence.

Four years, three months, two days, six hours

I've manned this station alone.

Protecting temperate farming regions

from invasive subtropical species, smuggling and fraud.

[chuckles] Fruit fraud.

You think that's funny.

Want to hear something else funny?

[loud bangs]

I think the stress of her job

is making Agent Nelson a little...

sensitive.

Our best bet is to remain calm.

Everyone [exhales] just stay calm.

Do you know who I am?

I'm Ken Fucking Fitzpatrick!

And I want out! I want out!

Well, boys -

looks like your day just went from bad

to shit-storm.

Your credit card isn't valid,

which isn't surprising,

since according to my computer,

you don't even exist.

Fuck...

Oh, I can explain that.

How about I explain it to you?

Mr. X here heads up a fruit smuggling syndicate

that I've been trying to prove exists for about a decade.

No, actually.

His name is Mr. Fitzpatrick

and we can prove his identity with his birth certificate.

And a birth certificate couldn't possibly be forged.

You smuggle fruit.

There's nothing you wouldn't do.

I'll get the truth out of you.

Out of all of you.

Eenie meenie miney...

Moe!

Nominations close at five o'clock-

And it looks like Daddy will be running unopposed.

See, I told you.

Hmm? Didn't I tell you?

A little insurance never hurts.

Chester...

I merely suggested to some people I know at City Hall

that if Fitz was somehow accidentally

deleted from the system...

maybe they'd get a little raise.

You bribed a city official

to help you steal the election?

That's so underhanded...

so sleazy...

so Fitz...

Ali, we agreed...

I don't want the baby to see my weewee.

Your computer is wrong.

His name is Richard Fitzpatrick...

it's a funny story, actually.

Richard is running for public office

and his competition deleted him from the system

to keep him off the ballot.

[nervous chuckle]

Computers never lie.

Or make fun of your job.

Or sleep with your supervisor

to get you transferred to the middle of nowhere

instead of just breaking up with you.

We had to go to Miami

to get Fitz's birth certificate.

And now we're heading to City Hall

to register him in time for the election and...

No. Dear God.

No. No! No!

[SCREAMS]

Hang in there, Larry!

Don't give that fuck the satisfaction!

It stings! A lot!

Now Larry? I'd vote for him.

You'd vote for that cum-sock over me?

I'd never vote for you.

I'll remember that when I've won.

And you'll never win.

Because no one could give two shits about you.

[SCREAMS] I deserve this.

It's justice. Karma.

I'm sorry I killed you, little titmouse.

It was an accident.

Let me guess. It was endangered too.

You sadistic freak.

Oh yeah.

It's a fruit.

[gagging sounds]

The only hope you'd have of winning

is to change everything about yourself,

you unlikable puke.

You're right-I know I'm right.

Not you, you piss rag.

Play along, or shut the fuck up.

Agent Nelson!

You're right.

Richard Fitzpatrick doesn't exist.

It's a cover identity.

My real name...

is Chester Vince.

I've been under deep cover for months now.

International tomato smugglers.

Your diligence has revealed

a critical flaw in my cover;

one that could get me killed.

I owe you my life, agent.

Sure you do.

You don't believe me?

Let me call my handler,

He'll bring my real ID down here.

I get a phone call anyway. Don't I?

One call.

It's all I need.

What the fuck?

I'm who matters here!

Richard, we'll never make it back to town by 5pm!

We're going to make it.

Hey, syphilis breath, wait for me.

Eat the corn from my shit, old man!

Ew! He's your father.

The only one you'll ever have.

We can't leave him here.

Fine. Birth certificate, now!

We had a deal!

Birth certificate, or I leave you with the fruit cop.

Here.

Take it, Larry.

Ugh...

[loud gunfire]

Brotherfuckers!

Chester, I know you have...

strong feelings about Fitz,

but this is no way to win an election.

Why not?

I'm being ruthless. Cutthroat.

I thought you were into that.

Chester... Chester, come back.

Cutthroat men don't pout!

[phone rings]

Hello?

Let me see if I have this straight, Agent Nelson...

My husband, Chester Vince,

just broke out of an agricultural station?

Oh, a maximum security agricultural station.

Was my husband wearing sunglasses

and too much cologne?

Really?

And where was he headed?

City Hall?

Thank you.

It can't be...

Tell me you've got the signatures.

Signed, sealed and delivered, man.

No thanks to this misfiring synapse.

Whose bright idea was it

to put Josh in charge of the nomination form?

Hey!

This is the last thing I'll ever need from you,

you diabetic piss stain-

There's only nineteen names.

What are you talking about?

Number seven is fake.

Betty Drillzer.

Except for your signature

supporting my run for city council!

[laughs]

Fuck you! Never!

- Find someone else to sign it! - Where?

I'll sign it.

You will?

- What are you doing here? - Who cares?

Are you kidding me?

Richard Fitzpatrick makes good on a promise?

Any promise?

I had to come and see this for myself.

Running for office.

That's really something.

Something big...

Don't ruin this by saying something about your penis.

Blah blah unrequited blah blah.

Sign!

Richard, we did it!

And we did it by following the rules.

[bells tolling] Except for lying to a federal officer -

Shut the fuck up, Larry!

Done and done, sir!

[♪]

[bell tolling]

[chuckling]

- See ya! - See ya!

Well, congratulations.

No thanks to you.

Prove it.

Maybe later.

Right now, I've got an election to win.

Know what, Fitz?

You might have taken this round.

But the battle's not over until the fat lady...

The war's not over 'til the battle's...

- Chester Vince? - WHAT?

FBI!

[struggling][chuckling]