Malviviendo 1x01 - "Me dicen Negro"


Uploaded by malviviendo on 27.01.2009

Transcript:
EPISODE 1 "THEY CALL ME NEGRO"
You know your kid's friend who looks suspicious?
Or the one you hate who's seeing your daughter?
That guy you glance at sideways, and ladies try to avoid?
Thats me.
My name's Jesus, but everyone calls me Negro.
Oy, Negro!
What's up Negro!
Que pasa Negro!
I left my island five years ago, to study here.
Five fucking years.
Mum? What's up?
Yeah, I just got out.
Out of an exam.
Good.
Well, I killed myself studying...
..all night, three full days studying!
I should have passed it first time, you know.
Eighth time lucky, right?
It's a three year course, but I seem to enjoy the first year.
My worried mum sends money sometimes.
I cant help feeling bad about it.
But then I remember my father's wise words.
You're a retard!
He's right. Thanks to him I feel OK using the money for a deal.
It's like pinching your arm to forget a headache.
But I'm maturing quickly. I've had a job for 18 months now.
The wage is alright and the rota's flexible.
I deal with the public, and prospects are good.
I'm a "cappy."
There are two ways to describe a cappy.
People outside the trade call us...
..fucking junkies...
..who demand money for not damaging your car.
We aren't all junkies!
I prefer another definition...
..uninsured social workers, who accept people's generosity...
for kindly assisting in parking, and then protecting the vehicle.
Although the people we protect it from are ... ourselves.
The cappy's life is complicated by a peculiar set of rules.
Everything I know came from one of the best.
Mateo.
A special guy, a classical ballet dancer...
..until he met the smack.
His alias was "The palm tree Baryshnikov".
I never saw another cappy work with such passion and elegance.
But smack is unforgiving.
He knew everything about the life of a cappy.
Best client...
..young posh girl .. and nice car.
Don't talk to client that looks tough.
Wait close, and when he looks, see his reaction.
You get patch from...
..experience ... waking early and ... determination.
Territory limited to one straight...
..so handy if it's long!
Hide your drugs mate! In case police pass when you work!
When I was ready he set me free...
..disappearing with a pirouette to double salto.
Mateo, our darling dancing druggie.
I'll never forget him.
I studied the city's geography in great detail...
..its transport network, working times, parking areas...
.. and wealth distribution ... all to select a workplace.
I tried out various accents, attempting to meet the clients' needs.
(small talk in silly accents)
Finally, I chose a weird accent between Moroccan and Romanian.
For one euro please.
Then the final touch...
..a facial gesture to facilitate respect from clients...
..a boxer's eye!
People's fear is inversely proportional to the age of their car.
Most pay without protest...
..cash ... cigarettes ... condoms...
..or a wall clock from 1932!
I know my father wouldn't approve.
What a twat.
But it's temporary, and friends do worse.
How you doin?
Hand-job or blowie?
Hand 20 ... blowie 100...
..but yours of course.
- Can I touch you? - Look if you ask me that again...
..I'll fucking beat you, do you get me?
Just the bare necessities.
Can I cum on you?
In the shoe.
After work I enjoy an isotonic drink, and I reflect on how the day went.
No rushed driver without cash to give me a blank cheque?
I'll do the same as every evening.
Nothing.
Listen man, you dunno what you're getting into.
Dude, I want my bit!
Gimme my bit! You know there's no mates' rates!
Negro, hang on...
Man, you know what! Fuck you!
This is Lefty.
He's the first guy I met when I arrived, loaded with my books and illusions.
Dude!
Want some great sensimelia?
If there really is a god...
..he specifically crafted Lefty to sell drugs.
Sly as a snake...
..the charisma of a chamaeleon...
..the perfect dealer.
He could sell posh university students oregano instead of grass.
The laughing precedes an incredible soaring rush...
..amazing! It's really good
50 Euros.
Or bad stuff to the cheapest cappy.
It's good man... ..I mean, good, good, good.
What's up Negro... ..how was the day?
As usual, fucking crisis man.
Fuck all.
Today i had... ..the best lay ever.
I haven't finished, eh.
A face like fucking Ronaldinho.
That's nasty, man.
But not one, nor two nor three... ..but three times
Well, and they were bang on?
Yeah, amazing man.
A really good ride.
Makes sense though...
Why's that?
Cos she's ugly.
- And? - Of course!
Cos ugly chicks fuck better dude.
What's that got to do with it?
I've had some stunners who were great in bed.
Yeah sure, experience helps...
But dude, ugliness! And fear, man!
Fear! It's the strongest thing in the world.
Fear? What fear?
What fear!
Well fear of, well look...
The more ugly a girl is, and the more she knows it...
..then she knows there's small chance of it happening again.
Know what I mean?
In a club even an average chick knows she can get some action.
That's obvious right.
But them!
The ugly ones know it's just you and anyone else they fool.
She's gonna... go crazy man.
It's not that she wont get many chances,
but maybe it's the last! Know what I mean?
That's fact man, no fucking urban legend.
True man.
That's why my best blowie ever was off that forty year old junky, no?
Not because she was ugly.
Why then?
She had no teeth, right?
True.
Whassup boys!
This guy's called Sentry.
Sentry was always a sick kid.
I don't mean asthma or flu...
He was diagnosed kleptomaniac aged eight.
Over time it became a profession.
Combining illnesses causes problems,
especially if they are kleptomania...
..and narcolepsy.
They weren't always sweet dreams.
He's been in prison three times.
His lawyer said the third would be the last.
But that's just him! He can't stop.
Doesn't matter if it's a limousine or a vicar's car.
It's not his fault.
- Hey Sentry! - What?
Who's the better ride, nice chicks or ugly ones?
Hookers!
But ... nice ones or ugly ones?
Romanians!
Every day is identical.
Hours slipping us by,
like the TV ads we're forced to watch before our favourite show starts.
I go home late, lying, promising myself I'll take life seriously,
that I'm growing up. But who am I fooling?
I'll keep sitting, waiting for a stroke of luck.
Sooner or later, it must be my turn.
"Luck is never forgotten"