This is grade-A. 100ยบ% pure Colombian
cacaine, ladies and gentlemen.

Disco shit. Pure as the driven snow.
Myname is George Jung...
federal inmate number

I was born in New England...
Massachusetts, actually,
in a town called Weymouth.

That's me.
And that's mybest friend, Tuna.
Mydad ran a plumbing and
heating company.

He hard three trucks, ten employees
and did bigjobs.

-He was myhero.
-Did you do it?

-I didn't fall once.
-Attaboy. See you tonight, okay?

-Can I please come to work with you?
-Fred. Let's go. Say goodbye.

Clam it. I'll talk to my boy as long as
I want to. Ya got a problem with that?

You really want to some?
What the heck? All right.
-All right, get your boots.
-Thanks, Dad. Thanks.

Bill, what's your problem? Guess who's
on clean up today. And buyin' lunch.

Money! M-O-N-E-Y!
That's yourjob, not mine!

Dad worked hard, but didn't earn
enough to please Mom.

Why do you think I married you?
She'd thoughtshe'd married
above herclass.

He'dpromised her the moon,
but didn't deliver.

The true was, business gotslow
and we were broke.

Don't touch me!
Look at your hands.

Please, not in front ofthe boy.
The boy, the boy!
What about me, Fred?

-Where are you going?
-Go home, George!

Mom, where are you going?!
No matterhow often

no matterhow many times
she embarrassed him...

he always took herback.
He loved her.
God, he loved her.
Come here.
Are you okay?
-Are you all right?