Clay Quotes in The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift (2006)

Cindy: [as Shawn approaches his Monte Carlo at the high school parking lot, a red Viper is parked next to him. Sitting on the Viper is Cindy, who is polishing her toenails] Nice car.

Shawn Boswell: It does the job.

Cindy: Doing what? Delivering pizzas?

Shawn Boswell: It's not the ride, it's the rider.

Clay: [Clay sees Cindy talking to Shawn] You talking to my girl?

Shawn Boswell: She was just admiring my ride.

Clay: That? My grandma's Buick can smoke that piece of shit trailer trash !

Shawn Boswell: What about your daddy's Viper?

Clay: [Clay pauses, then chuckles] This beast's got 500-horsepower and a Borla exhaust system. It does 0-60 in what, 4.3 seconds?

Shawn Boswell: Wow. You can read the brochure.

[Shawn enters his Monte Carlo and drives off. Clay then throws a baseball at the Monte Carlo, shattering the rear window]

Cindy: [after Clay shatters the rear windshield of Shawn's Monte Carlo with a baseball, Shawn steps out of his car and has a stare down with Clay and his gang. As Clay's gang approaches Shawn, Shawn brandishes a wrench in his hand, and they stop] Why don't you nice boys let your cars do the talking?

Shawn Boswell: I only race for pink slips.

Clay: This car goes for 80 grand. What am I gonna do with a broken-ass piece of shit like that?

[Crowd howls while Shawn smiles at Clay]

Cindy: How about me?

[Shawn and Clay stare at Cindy]

Cindy: Winner gets... me.

[Shawn smiles. Clay spits]

[first lines]

Mai Lihn: Well?

Clay: I'm sending you the code.

Mai Lihn: Yes, I see that. Thank you.

Jensen: [Aisha has the Losers in a Mexican standoff] Ohhhh... shit. She's got a gun and... it's pointed at my dick. Clay, it's pointed at my dick!

Pooch: Would you rather it was pointed at your face?

Jensen: I know it makes no sense, but yes!

[Aisha points her gun at Jensen's face]

Pooch: Better?

Jensen: Not really...

Clay: Where's your gun, Jensen?

Jensen: It's in the van.

Clay: What's it doing there?

Jensen: Not... much.

[Aisha rolls her eyes]

Roque: Will you two shut up?

Jensen: Well, what if it was pointed at YOUR dick?

[Aisha shoots Jensen in the arm]

Clay: Pooch, can you stand?

Pooch: Oh. Oh, this is Stupid Question Day. This is Stupid Question Day, and nobody decided to tell me! Naw, that's cool. It's all good.

Jensen: Come on, Legless Pooch, I got ya.

Aisha: Here's the deal: I get you and your men back in the States. In exchange, you get Max for me.

Clay: What's the catch, lady?

Aisha: It's pretty much a suicide mission.

Clay: And why should I trust you?

Aisha: Because if I were lying, I wouldn't have used the words "suicide mission."

Roque: Think you're thinking clear on this? Huh? 'Cuz every time we mess up, it's because of a woman.

Clay: Name one time that I...

Roque: Amber.

Clay: Amber wasn't the problem, Amber's husband was the problem.

Pooch: Amber's husband wasn't the one who shot you.

Clay: It was only in the leg.

Jensen: What about Emma?

Clay: Emma doesn't count. I didn't sleep with Emma.

Roque: No, because she put a bomb in your car!

Clay: All right, I admit - that did take a little of the romance out of it.

Clay: I'm clear, Roque.

Roque: Well, you better be, because I ain't getting killed by no girl.

Aisha: [coming up behind them] Been a long time since anyone called me a girl.

[to Clay]

Aisha: She put a *bomb* in your car?

Clay: She was volatile.

Aisha: [as their chopper is sprayed with .50 caliber machine gun fire] WHOA! I though you said small arms weren't a problem.

Pooch: That look like small arms to you? Huh? That's a cannon.

Aisha: Doughnut.

Pooch: That's a CANNON!

Aisha: Doughnut doughnut DOUGHNUT!

[Both scream as they graze a Dunkin' Donuts sign]

Aisha: Are you SURE you've done this before?

Pooch: Okay. Right now? Not the time. Not the time right now.

Clay: Pooch, what's your status?

Pooch: Well, I'm completely irritated and possibly crashing.

[Cougar takes down Wade and Roque with the same bullet]

Clay: Outstanding!

Clay: What do you have on her?

Jensen: Besides a pant-bustin' crush? Her Company file is blank. CIA has a standing kill order on her, as does Hamas, Sinn Fein... pretty much everyone with the exception of PETA wants this chick am-scrayed.

Clay: Jensen, are we wired?

Jensen: [disguised as a street vendor] Max is westbound... and these hot dogs are *delicious!*

Aisha: [whistles at the sight of Clay's Bolivian hotel room] Wow. It's everything a girl can dream of. Do you have a bathroom?

Clay: No, I specifically requested the only hotel room in the world that doesn't have a bathroom.

Aisha: So what brings you to Bolivia?

Clay: Cruise ship.

Aisha: We're a landlocked country.

Clay: Yeah, well... it's an amazing cruise ship.

Clay: How'd you know we were alive?

Aisha: Counted the number of teeth in the chopper wreckage. Plus you guys aren't exactly subtle.

Pooch: All right, look. We're not going anywhere until you two squash this bullshit.

Clay: Pooch, we're on a schedule here. Let's go.

Pooch: [imitating Clay] Oh, "we're on a schedule?"

[Yanks the keys out the ignition, looks pointedly at Clay and Roque]

Clay: [sighs] Roque... I'm sorry I hit you in the face.

Pooch: [laughing] Oh. That was good. That was good. Roque? ROQUE?

Roque: Clay... I'm sorry I threatened to cut your head off.

Pooch: VERY good! Wow. Don't you two feel so much better?

Clay, Roque: [in unison] NO.

Pooch: I don't give a shit. I say we go watch Jensen get himself killed, yeah?

Roque: Gee, I hope they don't see us sitting in this bright yellow Pinto.

Clay: Are you ashamed to be seen in an American classic?

Roque: This is not a sweet car, dawg.

Clay: This is a classic.

Roque: Yeah, this is a classic piece of shit.

Roque: Come, on, Clay! Look around you. I mean, do you think we're in a position to actually take on some CIA super-spook?

Clay: Roque...

Roque: It's a hell of a plan. You know what? Pooch could set up over there by the taco stand, and Jensen could set up communications right there by the hookers.

Max: [as Clay drives off his helicopter with a blast of machine gun fire] That was my ride.

Clay: Bummer.

Clay: I knew you wouldn't shoot her.

Roque: Not today...

Ranger Holt: Uh, let me guess...

[sees nametag]

Ranger Holt: Clay. You're looking for Jimmy?

Clay: Exactly. Dude, are you like a psychic or some kinda shit?

Ranger Holt: Some kinda shit, yeah. See dude, here's the thing; Jimmy moved.

Clay: Oh, where to?

Ranger Holt: Travis county jail.

Clay: Well that ain't good.

[Holt closes the door]

Clay: Looks like you brought a knife to a gunfight.

[last lines]

Clay: Not a fuckin' word.

Henry: My lips are sealed.

Clay: [in East Germany] If I want to worry, I'll worry; free fucking country, right?

Clay: Let's pee on his head.

Clay: What in the name of John Wayne's ass is going on here?

Clay: Great buckets of bull shit. It's Curly come back from the dead!

Sheriff Mooney: Clay, do me a favor; don't find anymore dead bodies?

Clay: Okay.

Clay: See ya later, Maxwell

Slaughter: Until that time, Eustice, until that time

Slaughter: [Eustis is trying to talk Maxwell into leaving the Army, and joining him in lucrative civilian business deals] The world's outside that window, Eustis, and it scares me. It's awfully big out there.

Clay: You don't make no sense at all, Maxwell. You ain't scared of nothin'!

Slaughter: Oh, yes I am. You forget, I was a civilian once.

Clay: It'll be different now - you'll see.

Slaughter: I doubt it. Memories are still very strong... Childhood, growing up. "Fat boy on the block." I was always fat, Eustis. Thyroid condition. Fat baby, fat child...

Clay: Well, if you ask me, I'd say you're just kinda' plump, ya' know? *Pleasingly*.

Slaughter: I am *fat*, Eustis.

Clay: Come on, Maxwell, I'm askin' ya'. Please! Why, you're too smart to stay in the stupid Army.

Slaughter: I like the "stupid Army." It's my home... But it's not yours. So you go and make your millions, and I'll wish you joy.

Clay: Well, you can't stay in the Army forever, Maxwell.

Slaughter: I know. And when that day comes, I know *just* the place where we can retire.

Clay: You do? Where is it?

Slaughter: It's far... Far out in the Pacific. I saw it once, during the war. It's a little island - green, lush, tropical, with a long white beach shining in the sun... People are friendly, kind, generous, and round. And all the girls are slim and round, with bright eyes, and smiles that would melt your heart. Wait'll you see them: long legs, flat stomachs, and round, firm breasts that tilt up.

Clay: [Clearly captivated] "Up"?

Slaughter: Up.

Clay: Whew, fantastic... What do they wear?

Slaughter: Nothing... Absolutely *nothing*.

Clay: Stay off my mattresses.

Slaughter: After Clay slices his golf ball onto the green by standing at right angles to the green on Slaughter's instructions after slicing every ball he hits, the balls rolls onto the green and bumps into Slaughter's ball which is already there, and comes to rest against it with a dinging sound effect like when a cash register drawer is opened: Hoooo-weee!

Clay: What did I do right?

Frances McCoy: Oh, they're both together!

Slaughter: It's the mating season.

Clay: Boy, what a combination! You and I against the world. Maxwell, if we were in business together, you could retire when you're forty.

Slaughter: [Soberly] I'm already past 40... And, I'm not getting any younger. I'm in the twilight of my years. And every minute is precious. Every second counts. Of necessity, my very existence depends on prompt and immediate action. To wait is to ponder. To ponder is to waste. And Eustis, to waste is a mortal sin. You understand?

Bobby Jo Pepperdine: [Taking a break while on the golf course] You want another beer, too?

Slaughter: I'd love one, Miss Pepperdine.

Clay: What about your diet, Maxwell?

Slaughter: I have never ceased trying to lose weight, Eustis. But I'm not gonna' try to become a fanatic about it. I've done enough exercise this morning to burn up a car-load of calories. I can afford to pamper myself.

Slaughter: [Looking at himself in a full-length mirror] You know, Eustis, all men are vain in one way or another. I happen to be a secret narcissist.

Clay: Really? Well, Maxwell, I thought you was nutty about girls as anybody else.

Slaughter: [Turning and giving Pvt. Clay a curious look] "Narcissist" is a ten-letter word meaning a person who likes to admire himself...

Slaughter: [turning back to look at himself in the mirror] Let me tell you something, my friend: being a fat narcissist isn't easy.

Clay: FBI oughtta' investigate Sgt. Priest. I think he's an escaped war criminal.

Alana: Quit it, Clay! And did I say you could touch my tits? No means no.

Clay: Yeah, you didn't say no.

Alana: Well, I was thinking it.

Clay: Marjorie, why do you look so weird?

Marjorie: 'Cause I'm a lesbian now, asshole.

Professor Jackson: Well, Mr. Adams, you just demonstrated the theoretical conundrum of contemporary American society.

Clay: I did?

Professor Jackson: The world is a linguistic battlefield: man, woman, gay, straight, black, white, penis, vagina. We are engaged in a semiotic battle over control of these inchoate, post-modern definitions. Do you understand me, Mr. Adams?

Clay: No.

Professor Jackson: Let me put it to you this way. Either you like bush or you don't.

Clay: Do... do you mean the president?

Clay: Dude, any guy that says they don't live for sex hasn't had any yet.

Clay: [waking up under the same blanket with Matt] Please tell me you're not spooning me.

Matt: [mostly still asleep] Hm? Mm. Five more minutes, man.

Clay: Shit, dude. You've got morning wood.

Clay: I felt your boner against my thigh, man.

Clay: You make me feel like a real man. M-maybe my whole life has been a total lie and I'm not gay. I think I'm in love with you.

Clay: [stroking Matt's cheek] Now make love to me. Please.

Matt: I think I'm gonna puke.

Clay: Dude, this is what all ladies really dream about - the fag who's not afraid to eat his best girlfriend's pussy.

Matt: You don't know shit about being gay.

Clay: Oh, yeah, well, there's a campus sexual identity support group meeting this afternoon. Get my gay on there.

Matt: Do you have any other goals in life besides getting laid?

Clay: You mean like writing the great American novel, making a million dollars, stopping world hunger, that sort of thing?

Matt: Exactly.

Clay: Dude, I'm a B-student from Wisconsin, okay? My... my mom drives a school bus. My dad manages a Target store. Now, future happiness for guys like me means Saturday afternoon BBQ's, a sweet deal on a new civic, and the occasional blow job from my wife. And until I take that sad journey into cultural purgatory, my goal in life is - yeah - to get as much ass as I can.

Clay: Should I get my nipple pierced?

Matt: Is there any part of you that sees how immoral this is?

Clay: [at a frat party populated by plain girls] Oh, my God, man. Look at these chicks. We're surrounded by "before shots."

Matt: I thought the ugly ones were easier to lay.

Clay: It's a myth, my friend. The unattractive ones think that their insides are really beautiful, so you gotta waste a lot of time and energy makin' them think that you're attracted to their personalities.

Clay: [seeing his dead roommate wheeled away] So when you movin' in?

Matt: I'll get my stuff.

Clay: Look, if we're gonna mate with that species of girl, we just need to become a superior breed of male.

Matt: So we should... go to the gym or somethin'.

Clay: No, we should become frat boys, dude. I mean, what better way to fortify our masculinity than with some classic male bonding.

Clay: Well, sometimes bein' a bitch is all a man has in this world.

Clay: Are you pissed?

Rodney: No, Clay, I'm not pissed. You just don't know what it's like for an old faggot like me to hear that straight boys wanna be gay. Believe me, it's a beautiful thing. It's what we fought for all our lives. It's the happiest day of my life. I may cry.

Clay: Are you happy, Blair? You don't look happy.

Blair: But do I look good?

Clay: You OK?

Blair: It's the cocaine... too much speed or something.

Clay: That's a relief.

Blair: What?

Clay: Well, you're fucked up, you look like shit, but hey no problem, all you need is a better cut of cocaine.

Blair: Did you talk to Julian yet?

Clay: No.

Blair: Clay, I asked you to talk to him.

Clay: Okay, I'll call Betty Ford, you want me to get him a room, fine.

Blair: No, just talk to him, I mean, he's your friend, too.

Clay: It's funny. When you called me, I thought I was coming home to see you.

Clay: Just leave with me! There's no reason for you to stay. Not here, not in LA.

Julian: Jesus! Do I look like I'm ready for homework?

Rip: Well, don't slack off, man. Don't be a bum.

Clay: Like you?

Rip: Just like me.

Clay: Do you know that you girls have televisions between your legs?

Julian: Still pissed?

Clay: [pauses] No.

Julian: Liar!

Clay: Clay: But all of this isn't only about me. All of this is more about waiting for someone you know will never come back. About that time spent waiting. And the people you meet in the waiting room.

Clay: Me and Walter, we know how it feels when a new day begins, and someone doesn't show up for it.

[first lines]

Clay: I collect goldfish. I keep them in a small tank in my bedroom. Other kids my age like dogs - if they like animals at all. But for me, it's goldfish. I understand them, living under water in a little bowl, hearing nothing, just watching everything through glass.

Clay: People need to have something in common to keep them close. Something like a job, or a hobby, or a sport - or the wait - for something to change. For justice, for fairness. But the wait can get difficult. And after a while, you can't just watch the story go on without you. And after a while, you take the story back.

[last lines]

Clay: All of this is more about waiting for someone you know will never come. About that time spent waiting. Never keep them waiting, in the waiting room.

Clay: I guess I wasn't destined for greatness.

Amber: I think the world has enough greatness. Not enough goodness. That's my theory.

Amber: Buy me flowers. Make me a card. I don't need you to make me your community service project. I need you to dance with me. That was okay, wasn't it?

Clay: Yes.

Amber: Clay, I know it's in you. I know it. Flatter me. Excite me. Sweep me off my feet. Tell me I'm the most attractive woman you've ever seen even if you don't really mean it. I don't care.

Clay: Lie to you?

Amber: Exactly. A normal date.

Clay: I've wasted a lot of words. I don't want to waste any more.

Amber: On me. Oh you're scoring all kinds of points.

Clay: It's not about scoring points.

Amber: I'm sorry. That's right. It's about red-yellow-green.

Clay: When did treating women with respect become the joke?

Brad: Oh, come on.

Clay: You want to laugh at believing love can be something sacred? Go ahead. Laugh.

Amber: You don't believe that there's a right person out there for each of us? A soul mate?

Clay: I don't believe that our job is in looking. It's in becoming. Once you are the right person... when you're ready... you know? Then hopefully, God willing...

Aunt Zella: This is the day the Lord has made.

Clay: I will rejoice and be glad in it.

Clay: There was... something. A sense. Like a voice but...

Amber: You hear voices?

Clay: No, not like real... Wait.

Amber: What?

Clay: Shhh. There it is again. A whisper. It's telling me... it's telling me something about you!

Amber: I'm serious. Tell me more about all of this.

Clay: I can't explain it. Still. Even now. It's not easy to put into words without sounding like a crazy person.

Aunt Zella: Ask her to go to church with ya sometime.

Clay: Thank you, Aunt Zella.

Amber: You go to church?

Clay: Not much anymore. I did.

Aunt Zella: The people there weren't perfect, so he felt out of place.

Amber: Is that what made you change?

Clay: It wasn't one big thing. It was more like a lot of small things that added up. And that book didn't help much. Sometimes I wish I'd never opened it at all.

Amber: Why?

Clay: Once I read it for myself, I couldn't make fun of it anymore. Maybe someone else could, but I couldn't. I felt accountable for the first time in my life.

Amber: When the jar is full, I know I have enough.

Clay: For what?

Amber: To get far enough away if I need to. Make a fresh start. Go where the wind takes me. Follow the warm fuzzies.

Clay: Life isn't just warm fuzzies.

Amber: It isn't just rules either, religiouso... And besides, it's how I ended up here. I hit empty on County Line Road."

Clay: You're kidding me. You just packed your car full of everything you owned and started driving until you ran out of gas?

Clay: Old things have passed away; behold all things become new.

Amber: That's in there?

Clay: "It's easier to keep holidays than commandments," Benjamin Franklin.

Amber: That's true. I definitely prefer holidays.

Amber: "Our lives begin to end the moment we remain silent about things that matter"

Clay: Who said that?

Amber: Martin Luther King, Jr.

Amber: [Repeated lines] Hey there, Stress Boy.

Clay: Hey there, Pretty Girl.

Clay: [Opening lines; voice-over] I thought I would always be alone.

Amber: [Voice-over] Why?

Clay: [Voice-over] It's what I deserve.

Amber: [Voice-over] Oh, that's a bunch of hooey.

[laughs]

Ollie: Isn't she a smack addict?

Macauley: Yeah

Clay: My mum's a smack addict

Zak: My mum's a dinner lady

[from trailer]

Clay: Hey, I'm not from around here, but I'm looking for my sister. She's gone missing.

Clay: Well that was pretty anti-climactic don't you think?

Cody: A fucking flashlight that works... is that too much to ask?

Clay: Electricity, is *that* too much to ask?

Clay: Finally, I knew you'd come around.

Dylan Frost: I never left.