Malviviendo 1x04 - "Chair Driver"

Uploaded by malviviendo on 04.03.2009

Unaware of the danger,
under the watchful eye of the predator,
the prey nears its end.
It's a cruel battle of speed, wits and instinct.
Nature's battle for survival.
Maybe too innocent.
It lowers its guard.
Finally... ..innevitably.
The prey is captured.
- Hello sir. - I don't have change.
- I've got change. - But I've got nothing.
Look at you! Don't tell me you have nothing, say you won't give it to me.
Ok, I don't want to.
Ok then buddy.
Have a nice day.
Some days I ask myself what the fuck I am doing!
Hard days. I only cope because of little pleasures.
- What's up Negro! - What's up Rentboy!
Not much man.
What a life!
I should try to find a normal job.
No way, it's the same shit with a less flexible rota.
What the fuck is this!
I ask for tea and you bring me a coffee, it's even cold.
Why do I always get the retarded waiter?
What's this? In here, what is it? A spoon?
Were you talking to me?
This isn't what I had planned, you know!
What a mess dude.
Yeah man.
You never dreamt of being something when you were a kid?
I always wanted to live in a video clip, an American hip-hop one.
I wanted to be a famous footballer.
I saw Real Madrid play and wanted to be on the pitch too.
Anyway, I had talent, and you know it!
Over here!
Enough waiting man, buy yourself a ball!
- Hey Negro! - What's up Chinitito!
Why do you speak to that twat?
(Music) I know I'm missing a tooth...
Still here Canary boy? Didn't I say to fuck off in your dingy?
- Who's this idiot? - Don't worry.
You've got a good punch buddy!
You think so?
Actually, as a kid dad played me videos of Mohammed Ali.
I also wanted to be a boxer.
So a boxer with Parkinson's?
Well I know someone who could help you.
What's going down Khaki?
Going down? The two twats in front of me.
But seriously, do you think you can help my mate here?
- I doubt it! - Quit messing,
you like fighting stories. Weren't you a boxer?
NO! I was THE boxer.
Anyway, that's a part of my life that...
..that I don't want to remember.
But come inside.
Here, grab this one!
- No, it's small and stinky! - Fuck you arsehole.
It smells like something died here!
Nothing died here you idiot!
Maybe it's the drains?
Well pull my fucking chain!
Khaki's dark past in boxing started a long time ago.
When he joined the army, aged 18.
From the beginning his instructor was the tough sergeant Romero.
A hard man, who still haunts the dreams of many of his ex-cadets.
You! Weed! I suppose you're the funny one!
Stand straight in front of a superior!
Look at me! I said look at me!
Young Khaki noticed he was treated worse than his colleagues.
He suspected Romero had some dark obsession.
From research, he discovered Romero organised illicit fights between cadets.
Just to please top officers who liked to gamble.
He decided to change Romero's opinion of him.
Soon he made the whole squadron notice a new fighter.
Unbeatable and respected. Recruit Jerez!
Boxing's too hard for you.
Anyway, you're too old to get anywhere.
Khaki dude! Don't listen to him Rentboy. He's just bitter.
I have an idea that might interest you.
You got in without breaking anything?
Shut up...
Anyway, you know the open-handed boxing that's becoming popular in the hood?
Open-handed boxing is a fighting style invented locally from a random argument.
What was that what?
The what was who's what?
No, nothing man.
Like any new sport,
someone bored created rules and names for the dumb game.
A gambling business built up around it.
Basically, two guys slap each other until one is unconscious.
That! That's for queers man!
But it's all there is around here.
The money's good! I won not one, two or three,
but three hundred euros once.
- That didn't really come off. - No it didn't fit.
What? Do you die if you don't use your stupid phrase?
No, I'm loosing my flow.
Anyway "The Mule", the fight organiser, well he's earning loads.
- Who? - The Mule, he runs the garage,
you probably don't know him, he doesn't get out much.
Well, it sounds good man, really, I'd like to give it a try.
If it means so much I'll help.
But I'm warning you, it'll be fucking hell!
And once you're in... can cry, shout or die, but you can't fucking pull out.
So tell me, are you up for it?
I'm not sure man.
Of course, what time tomorrow?
At dawn! And you Lefty!
Organise whatever you need to for within three weeks time.
That's early, he isn't ready.
I could get him ready quicker than that.
Ok, but what time is dawn?
Around 06:30, and you can bring some beers along!
Ok, I'll come but later in the morning, around three.
Rentboy hadn't woken up so early since his school years.
All that he saw was new and strange.
A guy in a fluorescent suit sweeping, or old guys watching builders.
- What's up Khaki. - Morning dude.
Sit down.
Adopt the lotus position.
Now, look to the horizon.
Think of your island.
The sea breeze.
The waves. The seagulls.
Do you feel good? Are you relaxed? Are you relaxed?
We'll have some relaxation!
That's enough of that shit!
Here! And now! The training starts!
What's up "Clam".
Well look who it is, what's up Lefty!
"The Clam" is big-mouthed, cocky, and a wimp. Everyone wants to kick him in.
But as The Mule's right hand, he's untouchable.
So imagine this type of moron
when he's gifted power he doesn't deserve.
He owned the toughest gangs in the area.
He ran the gambling, and punished people with debts cruelly.
Do you know what happens to people who don't pay?
They see my long instruments.
I have elephant laxative,
wooden skewers,
the anal hammer,
and the horn of the unicorn.
But desert is always the same... ..the "Scotty Pippen."
I'm not here to bet today.
Drugs? Hookers? Sex beads?
No, I have a fighter ready to fight in three weeks.
So it seems Lefty has started to represent fighters?
Tell me who! It isn't "Spatula Face" or "The Almond Sheller" is it?
No, he hasn't fought here before.
Well I don't know.
You know how it works, Right? We need fighters who last,
tough fuckers, so I have time to collect all the money.
Come on, I'm promising the kid's good. When have I lied to you before?
It was like that when I arrived!
Listen, and the kid's hard, and fast.
He floats like a cockroach, and he stings like crabs!
Anyway, he's trained by a local celebrity.
- Who? - Khaki, man.
- The "Chiclana Cock." - The "Chiclana Cock?"
Well maybe I can do something for you.
Wait here a second.
Man, are you the guy dating that ugly beast?
- What? - Fuck man, doesn't it make you sick?
Get to fuck, you're a bastard.
What's up Mule!
Hello Lefty.
Sargeant Romero began making good money from cadet Jerez's fame.
Officers from far away were coming to see him fight.
Everything was too good, fame, the chance of turning pro.
Bur Khaki never was a stable guy.
One day he let himself go, and just went too far...
..meaning some years prison for Jerez, and immediate expulsion for Romero,
who took sole responsibility for the illegal business.
From that day, they blame each other for how shit their lives are now..
- Hey Lefty. - What's up.
- It's done? - Yeah, for three weeks time.
Cool, make it at night, and somewhere it's easy to run from.
- You got Groove? - Yes.
- Pass him over. - One second.
- What's up. - Groove, you owe me 50 euros,
- and I won't forget. - Yeah, you'll get them.
- Yeah, of course man. - See you.
One day you'll hear his groovy story.
Do you think you're Michael Jackson?
Enough of your groovy dancing, train seriously or I'll bottle you.
Go on!
Come on Rentboy, harder, faster.
Come on, come on..
What are you doing Negro? That was full of protein!
Come on, let's go! You can do it.
Give me a fucking C sharp.
I said a fucking sharp, Rentboy!
A fucking C sharp! Rentboy! I said fucking C sharp!
Dude, I got you a sparring partner.
Hey, this guy just hit me man!
Of course, you're sparring.
See you later, I'm off!
- So, I won? - Yeah, you fairy!
With Rentboy's first taste of victory, the adulation and the feeling of power,
he knew this was his path. It was all worthwhile.
He was ready.
Are you talking to me? You're talking to me?
Good evening gentlemen!
Welcome to "Death Central"!
Come on, let's fucking have it! Fucking come on, let's go , come on.
Fucking yes, let's go, let's fucking do it.
Always the same! There's a car, a Peugeot 206, that's being towed away.
Today two hard fuckers are meeting each other.
On one side a guy from far away.
With fast hands from his hard job.
I must be talking about, RENTBOY!
Let's fucking go!
On the other side, the victor here at Death Central three times in a row.
The Destroyer! The Hands of Steel! The Applauding Assassin!
Dude, you should get a name!
(Moruno! Moruno! Moruno!)
Go on you fag!
Time to man the fuck up, and get stuck in.
Let's fucking go!
(Hit his head!)
- I can't go on! - I said no pulling out!
My hands hurt!
More than when you gave hand jobs? Fucking fairy!
Remember Rentboy, a C, a C sharp!
I should change my catchphrase.
Maybe, "it's bull to the cock"?
(sings song)... damn, where's my dope?
(Rentboy! Rentboy! Rentboy!)
Then it happened.
Take that! In the mouth!
(Rentboy, Rentboy, Rentboy)
I won dude! I won!
Turn around!
You know that nasty sound you get after someone hits you in the ear?
Sometimes I think it's the neurons,
saying it's game over.
You're the man!
The champion of champions of death central,
What style!
Oh fuck!
You motherfucker!
At ease sargeant.
Man, Rentboy, I lost 300 euros because of you.
Some fucker even stole my t-shirt!
Shut up dude.
If I find him man, then it's bull to the cock!
- What? - What?
Nothing man, leave it.
We lost again, like every day.
Another escape, another debt, another enemy, and another problem.
Don't you think life would be boring if it wasn't for these things?