Martin Q. Blank Quotes in Grosse Pointe Blank (1997)

Martin Q. Blank: Don't you think that maybe you're just upset because I told you what I do for a living, and you got upset and *you're* letting it interfere with *our* dynamic?

Dr. Oatman: Whoa. Martin. You didn't tell me what you did for a living...

Martin Q. Blank: Yes, I did!

Dr. Oatman: You didn't tell me what you did for a living for *four* sessions. *Then* you told me. And I said, "I don't want to work with you any more." And yet, you come back each week at the same time. That's a difficulty for me. On top of that, if you've committed a crime or you're thinking about committing a crime, I have to tell the authorities.

Martin Q. Blank: I know the law, okay? But I don't want to be withholding; I'm very serious about this process.

[pause]

Martin Q. Blank: And I know where you live.

Dr. Oatman: Oh, now see? That wasn't a nice thing to say; that wasn't designed to make me feel good. That's a... kind of a... not too subtle intimidation, and I, uh, get filled with anxiety when you talk about something like that.

Martin Q. Blank: Come on, come on. I was just kidding, all right? The thought never crossed my mind.

Dr. Oatman: You did think of it, Martin! You thought it, and then you said it. And now, I'm left with the aftermath of that, thinking I gotta be creative in a really interesting way or Martin's gonna blow my brains out! You're holding me hostage. That's not right.

Debi: So, is there a Mrs. Mysterio?

Martin Q. Blank: No, but I do have a very nice cat?

Debi: Not the same.

Martin Q. Blank: Well, you don't know my cat, it's very demanding.

Debi: It? You don't know if it's a boy or girl?

Martin Q. Blank: I respect its privacy.

Dr. Oatman: Don't kill anybody for a few days. See what it feels like.

Martin Q. Blank: Alright, I'll give it a shot.

Dr. Oatman: No, don't give it a shot! Don't shoot anything!

Marcella: Sir, they're very unhappy.

Martin Q. Blank: I'm very unhappy.

Marcella: It was supposed to look like a heart attack! He was supposed to die in his sleep!

Martin Q. Blank: Well, he moved.

Arlene: [about the nametags she's made for the reunion] I had the yearbook pictures put on so everybody knows who everybody was!

Martin Q. Blank: A special torture!

Martin Q. Blank: [Leaving a message on Dr. Oatman's machine] Dr. Oatman, please pick up, pick up! It's Martin Blank! I, I'm standing where my, uh, living room was and it's not here because my house is gone and it's an Ultimart! You can never go home again, Oatman... but I guess you can shop there.

Martin Q. Blank: You must've done some *naughty* shit there, Bart.

[flips dossier over to him]

Martin Q. Blank: There's a contract out on your life. Believe me. I was hired to kill you, but I'm not going to do it. It's either because I'm in love with your daughter or because I have a newfound respect for life.

Mr. Grocer: [following in van] That punk is either in love with that guy's daughter or he has a newfound respect for life.

Mr. Newberry: [after reading contract/dossier] My whole life!

Martin Q. Blank: Hopefully not.

Martin Q. Blank: Oh, the reason I called... Could you find out who else is in town? I've made two spooks and a ghoul already, so if they've double-booked the job, and/or they're going to kill me, I'd like to know. If you could find that out, that'd be great.

Mr. Newberry: Design Division wants me dead over a leaky sunroof and you want to kill me because of *that*?

Martin Q. Blank: It's *not* me! Why does everyone always think it's personal?

Martin Q. Blank: What about you? Joined the force, huh?

Terry Rostand: Oh no, I'm not a peace officer. Yeah, this badge isn't a meaningful symbol. We don't enforce the law, we just execute company policy for homeowners.

Martin Q. Blank: Oh, right... you mind talking a little shop?

Terry Rostand: Sure.

Martin Q. Blank: When are you authorized to use deadly force?

Terry Rostand: Oh well, you know, taxes provide your basic services, you know, police and whatnot, but our customers, they need a little bit more than that, so we catch you on the property, we do what we have to do.

Martin Q. Blank: So, if I just look suspicious on your customers' property - under those, you know, "heightened circumstances" - you have the authority to shoot me?

Terry Rostand: Correct.

Martin Q. Blank: Wow, all right. How'd you get the gig?

Terry Rostand: Oh, well, they were hiring. And it was only a two-week course.

Marcella: You know, when you started getting invited to your ten year high school reunion, time is catching up.

Martin Q. Blank: Are you talking about a sense of my own mortality or a fear of death?

Marcella: Well, I never really thought about it quite like that.

Martin Q. Blank: Did you go to yours?

Marcella: Yes, I did. It was just as if everyone had swelled.

Paul: I've got to get something off my chest. Have you been home to see the old house?

Martin Q. Blank: Yeah. Torn down in the name of convenience.

Paul: Yeah, I brokered the deal

Martin Q. Blank: Oh, wow. Wow.

Paul: I tried to get a family there, but Ultimart made the best offer.

Martin Q. Blank: Well, thank you for profiting on my childhood.

Martin Q. Blank: Do you *really* believe that there's some stored up conflict that exists between us? There *is* no us. *We* don't exist. So who do you wanna hit, man? It's not me. Now whaddya wanna do here, man?

Bob: [Pulls out a folded up piece of paper]

Martin Q. Blank: I don't know what that is.

Bob: These are my words.

Martin Q. Blank: It's a poem? See, that's the problem... express yourself, Bob! Go for it.

Bob: "When I feel... quiet... when... I feel... blue..."

Martin Q. Blank: You know, I think that is *terrific*, what you have right there. Really, I liked it, a lot. I wouldn't sell the dealership or anything but, I'm tellin' ya... it's intense!

Bob: There's... more.

Martin Q. Blank: Okay, would ya mind, just skip to the end.

Bob: To... the very end? "For a while."

Martin Q. Blank: Whew. That's good man.

Bob: "For a while."

Martin Q. Blank: That's excellent!

Bob: You wanna do some blow?

Martin Q. Blank: No I don't.

Bob: [Hugs Martin]

[the Ultimart has just been blown up]

Martin Q. Blank: Are you all right?

Ultimart Carl: No, I'm not all right!

Martin Q. Blank: Take it easy.

Ultimart Carl: I'm hurt... I'm pissed... gotta find a new job!

Mr. Grocer: Ya sure Oregon doesn't ring a bell? The Pacific Northwest, couple of months ago? Something about you doin' some wonderdog named Cujo...

Martin Q. Blank: Ah, *Budro*, yes, Budro, Jesus Christ! Yeah, I was out there tryin' to whack these junk bond fuckos and these idiots were flushing game with sticks of dynamite! And the dog that they borrowed, little Budro, was a retriever, get it? Budro was never a target, Budro was acting on instinct. I would never hurt an animal and I'm offended at the accusation...

Mr. Grocer: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Chatty Cathy! Clip yer string, I don't need to know! But, just for the record, here's what I heard: the marks borrowed your client's prize hunting pup. So, bad luck for Budro and bad luck for Blank. Poodle pumper. Hound hitter. Pooch puncher!

Martin Q. Blank: But listen, uh, if you wanna go, I can't think of any reason why we wouldn't go together.

Debi: I can.

Mr. Grocer: Kid, I'm putting together a little concern, which would enable those of us in our, uh, rarified profession to avoid embarrassing overlaps.

Martin Q. Blank: What, like a union?

Mr. Grocer: More like a club. You know, work less, make more.

Martin Q. Blank: Wow, sounds like a great idea, but... thank you, no.

Mr. Grocer: No? You remember Burma?

Martin Q. Blank: Yeah, I do.

Mr. Grocer: That nut, General Kwang? You were like a... colonel in that army, weren't you?

Martin Q. Blank: Yeah, yeah, he sold you all those tanks, you shipped 'em to Alabama...

Mr. Grocer: T-34s, I took a bath on that.

Martin Q. Blank: Yeah, that was fun.

Mr. Grocer: That's what I'm talking about, kid, we could be working together again, for God's sake! You know, making big money, killing important people!

Mr. Grocer: Look, I don't want to play against you! This thing is real.

Martin Q. Blank: How real?

Mr. Grocer: Maranga Brothers, them, uh, East German ex-Stasi guys...

Martin Q. Blank: Oh, I don't like those guys.

Mr. Grocer: Them butch Filipino ladies...

Martin Q. Blank: What, the dwarf, maid...

[makes stabbing motion]

Mr. Grocer: Stabbers! Queens of the hotel hit, you know.

Martin Q. Blank: You got a great crew.

Mr. Grocer: Everybody's in!

Martin Q. Blank: Yeah well, not me, so don't paw at me with your dirty little guild, okay?

Martin Q. Blank: Mrs K? Miss Kinetta. It's me, Martin

Mrs. Kinetta: Martin, my god, it's you!

Martin Q. Blank: Hey.

Mrs. Kinetta: You've been Detroit's most famous disappearing act since white flight.

Amy: Where ya been these last ten years?

Debi: Yeah, where ya been, "Marv"?

Amy: Ya look great!

Martin Q. Blank: Thanks. I work at Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Amy: Ya do not!

Martin Q. Blank: I do! I sell biscuits and gravy all over the Southland.

Amy: You're so funny.

Debi: He's a funny guy.