Marty Quotes in Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006)

Jack Sparrow: No worries! Tia Dalma and I go way back... thick as thieves, nigh inseparable we are... were... have been... before...

Gibbs: I'll watch yer back.

Jack Sparrow: It's me front I'm worried about.

Gibbs: [to Will] Mind the boat.

Will Turner: [to Ragetti] Mind the boat.

Ragetti: [to Pintel] Mind the boat.

Pintel: [to Marty] Mind the boat.

Marty: [to Cotton's parrot] Mind the boat.

Cotton's Parrot: [to Cotton] Mind the boat.

[It flies off, leaving Cotton to pout and sit back down in the boat]

Marty: [after burning off a few of the Kraken's tentacles] Did we kill it?

Gibbs: No... we just made it angry.

Marty: The captain does seem to be acting a bit strange... er.

Marty: [Marty picks up the cloth] It's a key!

Jack Sparrow: No! Much more better. It is a *drawing* of a key.

Gibbs: Captain, I think the crew, meaning me as well, were expecting something a bit more... shiny. What with the Isle de Muerta going all pear-shaped, reclaimed by the sea and the treasure with it.

Leech: And the Royal Navy chasing us all around the Atlantic.

Marty: And the hurricane.

Marty: Do we have a heading?

Jack Sparrow: Ah! A heading! Set sail in a general...

[points around vaguely]

Jack Sparrow: *That* way direction.

[as the Kraken prepares to attack]

Marty: Not good!

Todd: Yeah! I think I'm in love with her, dude.

Marty: She looks like she's about 11 years old but...

Todd: I can wait! I solemnly vow to save myself for her.

Marty: I can see how that would be really difficult for you.

Dave Lizewski: Jesus, guys, doesn't it bug you? Like thousand of people wanna be Paris Hilton and nobody wants to be Spiderman.

Marty: Yeah, what's with that? She has like no tits at all.

Todd: Maybe it's the porn tape, he doesn't have a porn tape.

Marty: You guys never saw "One Night In Spiderman"?

Marty: It's still blowing my mind. Kick-Ass! It's like finding out your best friend's always been Will Smith.

Todd: You guys watch Spider-Man last night? Is it weird if Aunt May gets you kind of hard?

Marty: Not if you're a granny-slammer.

Dave Lizewski: [bumping into Goth Kid] Ow, watch it.

Goth Kid: Watch me end your life!

Marty: Come on forget it, it's just one of those dickheads that follows the Motherfucker on Twitter.

Dave Lizewski: Who?

Marty: The Motherfucker. He's some guy planning to be the world's first super-villain. He's got like a thousand followers already.

Dave Lizewski: What an asshole.

Marty: Well, I became Battle-Guy after my parents were mugged and killed coming home from the opera. Did I tell you that the sick bastard maxed out their credit cards on porno sites?

[Talking to his psychiatrist about going to his high school reunion]

Marty: They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they've all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say? "I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How've you been?"

Mr. Newberry: What have you been doing with your life?

Marty: Uh... professional killer.

Mr. Newberry: Oh! Good for you, it's a... growth industry.

Marty: A thousand innocent people get killed every day! But a millionaire's pet gets detonated, and you're marked for life.

Debi: You know what you need?

Marty: What?

Debi: Shakabuku.

Marty: You wanna tell me what that means?

Debi: It's a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.

Marty: Oh, that'd be good. I think.

[practicing in a mirror before his high school reunion]

Marty: Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I - and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialize in ritual killings. Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you? Hi, I'm Martin Blank, you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, but I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.

Marty: [at the end of a running gun battle] You don't need to answer right now, but Debi, will you marry me?

Mr. Newberry: [pokes his head up from the bathtub] You got my blessing!

Marty: Debi's house.

Paul: Kinda crept up on you, didn't it?

Marty: No, you drove us here.

Paul: [pause] Yep.

Waitress: What do you want in your omelette, sir?

Marty: Nothing in the omelette, nothing at all.

Waitress: Well, that's not technically an omelette.

Marty: Look, I don't want to get into a semantic argument, I just want the protein.

Mr. Newberry: Did I have you figured wrong?

Marty: I don't know - I mean, I hope so.

Mr. Newberry: I visualised you in a haze as one of those slackster, flannel-wearing, coffee-house misanthropes I've been seeing in Newsweek.

Marty: No no no, I went the other road. Six figures, doing business with leadpipe cruelty, mercenary sensibility. You know... sports, sex, no real relationships with anyone. How about you, how have the years been treating you?

Mr. Newberry: Well, you know me, Martin. Still the same old sell-out, exploiting the oppressed...

Marty: Sure.

Mr. Newberry: "Ah, what a piece of work is man, how noble..." ah, fuck it. Let's have a drink and forget the whole damn thing.

Debi: I should have worn a skirt.

Marty: I should have brought my gun.

Debi: What was that?

Marty: Should be fun!

[repeated line]

Marty: If I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there.

Marty: [after shooting a guy three times and bashing his head in with a skillet] Debi, I'm in love with you! And I know we can make this relationship work.

Debi: You're a psychopath.

Marty: No, no. Psychopaths kill for no reason. I kill for *money*. It's a *job*. That didn't come out right.

Debi: You're a fucking *psycho*.

Marty: Don't rush to judgment on something like that until all the facts are in.

Debi: How come you never learned that it was wrong? That there are certain things you do not do, you do not do in a civilized society?

Marty: Which civilizations are we talking about?

Debi: Oh, shut up!

Marty: I mean, history...

Debi: Shut up!

Debi: [about the man Martin killed at the reunion] He was trying to kill you, right?

Marty: Yes.

Debi: It wasn't the other way around?

Marty: No.

Debi: Is it something you've done?

Marty: It's something I do... professionally, for about five years now.

[He lifts the gun in his hand]

Debi: [Gasps] You were joking! People joke about the horrible things they *don't* do, they don't *do* them! It's absurd!

Marty: When I left, I joined the Army, and when I took the service exam, my psych profile fit a certain... "moral flexibility" would be the only way to describe it. I was loaned out to a CIA-sponsored program and we sort of found each other. That's the way it works.

Debi: So, you're a government spook?

Marty: Yes, I mean no. I was before but I'm not now... but that' all irrelevant, really. The idea of government, nations is public relations theory at this point.

Debi: Don't. I don't wanna hear about the theories. I wanna hear about the dead people. Explain the dead people.

Marcella: You can take care of business and stop by Grosse Pointe for your reunion...

Marty: Look, Sgt. Pepper, I really need you to shut up about that.

Marcella: Sir, it's out of my hands. The gods want you to go back home and they want you to delete someone while you're there.

Marty: I'm sorry if I fucked up your life.

Debi: It's not over yet.

Mr. Grocer: [Marty and Grocer are shooting eachother] Comrade! Comrade!

Marty: What?

Mr. Grocer: Why don't you just join the union, we'll go upstairs together and cap daddy!

Marty: This union, there's gonna be meetings?

Mr. Grocer: Of course!

Marty: No meetings.

[They continue shooting]

Marcella: [Marcella dances around the office, pouring gasoline all over everything, pounding on computers with a hammer, throwing bits of equipment across the room, all the while humming cheerfully to herself. The phone rings]

Marcella: Hello?

Marty: Are we out of business yet?

Marcella: [sing-song] I am taking down the office now.

Marcella: [Carrying on multiple conversations over the phone] Okay, got it.

Marty: Bye bye

[hangs up]

Marcella: Amelia?

[the other line beeps]

Marcella: Wait, hold on a second.

[switches to the other line]

Marcella: Pacific Trident Global. Janice?... Yeah, where the fuck is it? I ordered it three days ago... No, that doesn't work. That's, that's not right. Let me go over it again, alright? Let's see: 3,000 rounds of 9mm sub-sonic. You had that. I gave that to you on the fucking list!... Well I don't give a God-damn where it is, you get it here now!

[hangs up]

Marcella: Amelia? I'm sorry... Yeah, no... No, I, it's not going to be a boring soup! It just, that's just the base! You put the chicken in, you gotta add other flavors. Carrots and celery are just a base of a soup!

Marty: You should read the files on some of the fuckers. I mean, it reads like a demon's resume.

Marty: What are you doing here?

Ultimart Carl: I'm doing a double shift. What does it look like?

Marty: How long have you worked here?

Ultimart Carl: A couple months.

Marty: Is the manager here? Do you have a supervisor?

Ultimart Carl: No. They...

Marty: [Interrupting] How long have they worked here?

Ultimart Carl: I'm not tellin' you.

Marty: Yeah? Where do you live?

Ultimart Carl: I'm not tellin' you that, either.

Marty: Where does your manager live? Who - I used to - Where - W-what are you doing here?

Ultimart Carl: I work here.

Marty: What are you doing here?

Ultimart Carl: I work here.

Marty: And how long have you worked here?

Ultimart Carl: Only a couple months.

Marty: All right, all right. What's done is done. Just forget about the whole thing.

Marty: This your Beemer?

Paul: Yeah.

Marty: In Detroit? That's sacrilege!

Marty: Why are you so interested in me going to my high school reunion?

Marcella: I just find it amusing that you came from somewhere.

[after Marty tells Debi he kills people for a living]

Debi: You don't get it! You don't get to have me!

Marty: You're overreacting!

Victim: Whatever I'm doing you don't like... I'll stop doing it.

Marty: It's not me.

Mr. Grocer: [Martin and Grocer have just killed Agents Lardner and McCullers] Workers of the world, UNITE!

[point their empty guns at each other]

Mr. Grocer: Look at that: Empty!

Mr. Grocer: [Grocer pulls a fresh pistol as he hears Martin releasing the slide on his empty pistol] Solidarity baby! You out?

Marty: Yeah.

Mr. Grocer: So, what are you gonna do? You gonna THROW that gun at me?

Marty: No.

Mr. Grocer: How 'bout this? How 'bout I sell you a piece for a hundred Gs?

Marty: OK! Front me?

[grabs TV]

Mr. Grocer: Deal!

[throws the gun out, waiting to off Martin]

Marty: Popcorn!

[slams TV on Grocer's head, killing him]

Mr. Grocer: Here's the new stuff, kid. Durazac 15. Makes Prozac seem like a decaf latte. Want a couple? I've got jars.

Marty: I don't do that stuff anymore.

Mr. Grocer: No wonder you got the shakes. And don't say "do it," because I don't "do it." I *ingest* it, on orders from my neurophysiologist. It's legal. In five years they'll be putting it in the water for the citizens, like fluoride.

Marcella: Sir, I'm really beginning to worry about your safety.

Marty: Look, I got to go.

Marcella: Yeah, we all got to go sometime, sir, but we can choose when.

Marty: No one chooses when.

Marty: I was sitting there alone on prom night, in a goddamn rented tuxedo, and my whole life flashed before my eyes. And I realized finally, and for the first time, that I wanted to kill somebody. So I figured since I loved you so much, it'd be a good idea if I didn't see you anymore.

[We hear a car pulling in]

Marty: They're right behind us. So I was in the Gulf last year, I was doing this thing anyway. And I came up over this dune, and I saw the ocean... and it was on fire. The whole thing, on fire, and it was beautiful. So I just sat there and watched it, and that's when I realized there might be a meaning to life, you know, like an organic power that connects all living things, God, Yahweh, I dunno.

[Marty shoots two rounds through the door, taking out the thug behind it]

Ken McCullard: I do divorce mainly, some property, some personal injury.

Marty: They all seem kinda related.

Debi: Okay. So. You're back... a decade late, and... you're on some sort of therapeutic assignment, and you want to sort things out with me. So the question now becomes, do I allow you access to me or... do I call security?

Marty: I don't think that'd be a good idea.

Marcella: Don't hang up! Wait! Did ya' read yesterday's offer?

Marty: Hold on a minute.

Marcella: It's in French. It's a Greenpeace boat. It'd be so easy.

Marty: No way! I have scruples.

Marty: Some of these guys need some kind of ethical philosophy to justify it, some guys like "live free or die," but that's all bullshit, I know that now, that's all bullshit. You do it because you were trained to do it, because you were encouraged to do it, and because, eventually, you, you know... get to like it.

[Debi stares at him, horrified]

Marty: I know that sounds bad...

Marty: Take care of yourself, Ken. Thank you for the pen.

Mr. Grocer: After we do your job, we're gonna do another job.

Marty: Tell me about it.

Mr. Grocer: Like I'm gonna put a bullet hole in your fuckin' forehead, and I'm gonna fuck the brain hole!

Marty: I'm a professional killer.

Paul: Do you have to do postgraduate work for that?

Marty: Oatman? Don't hang up. Listen, I didn't kill anyone - except some guy tried to kill me, so if I see that guy again, I'm definitely gonna kill him, but I'm not going to kill anybody else. I'm on my way to the reunion now with Debi, but I'm just a little nervous, and I'd like to do a phoner.

Dr. Oatman: O.K., repeat after me. "I am at home with the me. I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure."

Marty: I am at home with the me, I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure.

Dr. Oatman: Good. Now take a deep breath, and realize that this is me breathing.

Marty: Wait, I'm confused. Do you want me to say it or do you want me to realize it?

Dr. Oatman: What?

Marty: About the breathing.

Dr. Oatman: Say it.

Marty: This is me breathing.

Dr. Oatman: Good, now keep doing that for about twenty minutes.

Marty: Listen, I got to go.

Dr. Oatman: O.K. Keep it up. Don't kill anybody.

Marty: Right!

[Hangs up]

Dr. Oatman: Martin, I'm emotionally involved with you.

Marty: How are you emotionally involved with me?

Dr. Oatman: I'm afraid of you.

Marty: You're afraid of me.

Dr. Oatman: And that constitutes an emotional involvement, and it would be unethical for me to work with you under those circumstances.

[Talking to Marcella over the phone after shooting someone]

Marty: Don't tease me, you know what I do for a living.

[Grocer walks into the diner carrying a brown bag]

Mr. Grocer: Easy there, Chief. I don't see Hollow-Point Wound Care on the menu.

Marty: [whispering] Up, up...

[they lay their guns on the table]

Marty: Why are you in Detroit? Redwings need a new goon?

[catching up, while Martin has been away for ten years]

Marty: How's your sister? Did she ever marry that guy Kenny?

Paul: [incredulous] Kenny?

Marty: Yeah, did that work out...?

Paul: Come on, man, he did three years at Joliet. They put one of those bracelets on him, like a LoJack, they know where he is at all times. I think he's at Pizza Hut now.

Marty: So let's not go there.

Paul: No.

Marty: [while making out with Debi] God, it's been so long, I've forgotten who gets tied up.

[Repeated line]

Marty: It's not me.

Marty: What about those two guys in a Caprice Classic outside? The word is you turned two Governments on me, you turncoat.

Mr. Grocer: Me?

Marty: You.

Mr. Grocer: Go G?

Marty: Yes.

Mr. Grocer: On you?

Marty: Yes.

Mr. Grocer: Never.

Marty: [Looks at a thick red dossier about his next target] You're a handsome devil. What's your name?

[opens it]

Marty: Dumb fucking luck!

Alex: Marty, it looks like this is it! I just want you to know, you're a one in a million friend!

Marty: Thanks, Alex! You are a true friend!

Alex: And I'm sure you won't mind when I tell you...

Marty: What? Tell me what?

Alex: I broke your iPod!

Marty: What?

Alex: The buttons were so small! It made me mad!

Marty: The horror!

Alex: It was an accident!

Marty: I'm gonna kill you!

Marty: That is definitely not crackalackin'.

Alex: It is lackin' in the crackin', my friend.

Alex: I wanna prove to my dad that I'm a *real* lion.

Marty: As opposed, to a *chocolate* lion!

Alex: I like to move it, move it!

Gloria: He likes to move it, move it!

Marty: She likes to move it, move it!

Melman: We like to...?

Lemurs: Move it!

Mason: The plane won't be fixed until the suits meet our demands. Now, about maternity leave.

Skipper: Maternity leave?

[glances under the table]

Skipper: You're all male...

Marty: Look, we need that plane for a rescue mission.

Skipper: Well, there's nothing I can do until we bust up this union.

Gloria: I'm gonna get to bustin' up all you if you don't get this plane going!

Skipper: Can't you see these commies have my hands tied, here? NO maternity leave!

Mason: [nudges Phil, who pulls out incriminating photos of Skipper and "Doll" in compromising positions] Maybe a certain someone wouldn't want *these* blowing around the savanna?

Skipper: [reluctantly] All right, you get your maternity leave.

Marty: I still think he's a show-off.

Melman: You gotta give him credit. He is an animal.

Marty: I don't know about you guys, but I feel like going on vacation.

Gloria: Where are we going to go on vacation?

Marty: I was thinking Conneticut.

Zuba: [Looking at Alex's birthmark] A mark.

Alex: All right, this is a little weird.

Zuba: Honey, he's come home.

Alex: What?

Zuba: [shows his birthmark] You've come home.

Alex: [as he looks at both birthmarls] Whoa.

Zuba: Son.

[pause]

Alex: Dad.

[Zuba nods]

Alex: Mom and Dad? Mom and Dad! Mom and Dad! It's my Mom and Dad! I got a mom and dad!

[they form a group hug]

Mom: Our baby's alive!

Marty: Dad!

Gloria: [as they watch the sunset] Beautiful, isn't it?

Melman: Yeah.

Marty: It's amazing.

Alex: Guys... this is where we belong.

Marty: I'm sorry about this mornin', alright? I mean, we didn't hurt *you*! Shit man, that guy, he was just a nigger!

John Eastland: That *nigger* was my best friend, you motherfucker!

[Bashes Marty's head in]

Marty: Eight's the one, I'd stake my life on it.

Jay Trotter: They've got a $2 minimum bet.

Marty: Can I get you anything else?

Carey: Floss... and a gun.

Marty: How did you find me?

Carey: I'm the Devil.

Marty: [singing and dancing] Da-da-dadadada-da-da, circus, da-da-dadadada-da-da, afro! Circus afro, circus afro! Polka dot, polka dot, polka dot afro!

Alex: ...Really?

Gloria: How are a zebra, a hippo, a lion and a giraffe going to walk into a casino in Monte Carlo?

Marty: I don't know. Ask the rabbi.

Marty: Man, that is one ugly, mag-ugly lady! That is roach-killing ugly!

Alex: Wait a minute, that's no lady, that's the King of Versailles; and that's not the King of Versailles, that's the chimps! And the chimps are smoke, and where there's smoke, there's fire, and by fire, I mean the penguins!

Alex: The Colosseum, the original theater in the round, Marty. You know, my ancestors used to perform here.

Marty: No kiddin'?

Alex: Yeah. Every show had a captive audience. Apparently, they killed.

Alex: We're going the wrong way! Turn around!

Marty: Just call me Marty-o Andretti!

Alex: No, you're Sucky-o Andretti!

Marty: Stop back-seat driving!

Alex: I'm passenger-seat driving, and I want the wheel! Give me the wheel!

Marty: It's not a wheel, it's my baby!

Alex: Your hooves aren't meant to be on a wheel!

Marty: It's too late for you to drive now!

Gia: Alex? You are from a zoo?

[pause]

Alex: Yes. Yes. But wait, there's more.

Gia: More?

Alex: Or less. There's less.

Vitaly: You were never circus?

Gloria: We had to say we were circus.

Melman: Or you'd never let us on the train.

Gia: After all we have been through together, you want to go live in a zoo?

Alex: Gia, I...

Vitaly: You used us.

Alex: No, no, no. I mean - I mean yes but,

Gia: Trapeze americano, you make that up, too?

Alex: It didn't exactly exist when I taught it to you.

Gia: Jet packs and aquatic cobras! I should've known.

Stefano: Balloons to the children of the world was not real, either?

Alex: Yeah, that's not real. But look at what we did.

Stefano: I was shot out of a cannon! I could've died!

Marty: But I thought it was your lifelong dream.

Stefano: For all I know, your name is not even Alice.

Alex: No, Stefano, but it never really was.

Stefano: I don't feel safe!

Alex: Gia, I...

Gia: We trusted you.

Stefano: My tears are real! You are not!

Marty: I'm like a candy cane in a black and white movie.

[the group is observing their old homes from outside the zoo gates]

Alex: Hmm... My rock looks smaller than I remember it being...

Marty: Hey, look, it's the mural! Heh, doesn't quite capture the real thing, does it?

Gloria: Well, there's our homes... I forgot about that wall between us, Melman. Was that always there?

Marty: Afro, don't fail me now!

Marty: This is crackalackin' to the mackalackin'!

Marty: It's the fuzz! What are we gonna do?

Marty: [to Alex as he gets into the driver's seat] Move over, Miss Daisy!

[on the phone]

Marty: Grabelski! What the hell's going on? Some guy on TV said you killed somebody!

Max: I know, but it's not true. I was set up. I gotta know if there's another package for Timberline Inc., to Reinhart Bragdon.

Marty: What the hell's Reinhart Bragdon got to do with anything?

Max: Because that's the guy I killed!

Marty: Oh, so you did kill somebody.

Max: No, I told you I was framed!

Marty: So, you ready to rock?

Julie: Well, you're not going to play your guitar, are you?

Marty: Uh, no. I was just thinking we could watch a movie or something.

Julie: I like you too Marty. I mean, I even broke up with Vern for you.

Marty: Really?

Julie: Well no, Vern was just a dick and I should have broken up with him a long time ago. But I really do like you.

Shirotsugh Lhadatt: Y'know, on paper it didn't look so big.

Marty: Ideas grow; sometimes bigger than life.

Shirotsugh Lhadatt: Aw hell, I give up. "And what I see now is - " tanks everwhere!

Marty: Open your eyes, you damn idiot, they're fakes!

Shirotsugh Lhadatt: Fakes?

[singing]

Shirotsugh Lhadatt: All around us there's nothing but fakes... Whoa! Soar with me on the biggest fake of all!

Marty: Sir, the launch pad's as ready as it's ever going to be.

General Khaidenn: Moment of truth... Return to countdown!

Marty: Here's the pilot. Does he get a say in any of this?

Rocket Scientist: [to Shiro] And what is YOUR opinion?

Shirotsugh Lhadatt: I'd kinda like to live a while, so I vote for the safest way.

Rocket Scientist: Bah! Undue concern.

Marty: Oh, minor detail.

Marty: What do you want to do?

Lisa: I've got to ask you something, Marty. Why do you let Bobby treat you the way he does?

Marty: What?

Lisa: Why do you let Bobby treat you like he does, hit you and stuff, and make fun of you? He disses you right to your face in front of everyone. Derek thinks you guys are queer for each other.

Marty: Yeah well, Derek's an asshole.

Lisa: You know what? I love you.

Marty: Shut up.

Lisa: I do. I love you and I care about you and I don't want to see you suffer. I don't want to see Bobby picking on you ever again.

Marty: Bobby...

[he chokes up and cries; saliva comes from his mouth]

Lisa: What?

Marty: It's been like this since we were little fucking kids, Lisa. He's always been like this. Bobby always beats the fuck out of me whenever he wants and there's not a goddamn thing I can do about it. I've begged my fucking parents to move...

Lisa: You could move away yourself!

Marty: I'm not even a fucking high school graduate.

Lisa: Yeah, I know, tell me about it. So there's nothing we can do to stop him ever?

Marty: We could kill him, but that's about it.

Lisa: [smiles] That's what I was thinking.

Marty: What? What are you talking about?

Lisa: Bobby.

Marty: What about Bobby?

Lisa: What if he was gone?

Marty: What kind of weird shit are you talking about?

Lisa: What if we killed him?

Marty: Are you fucking nuts?

Marty: Turn those goddamn lights off, Ali.

Derek Kaufman: You were his best friend so you're gonna be the number one suspect.

Marty: Dude, that don't make sense, man. I should be, like, the last motherfucker they suspect.

Derek Kaufman: No, you're not a cop. You don't know how these sick bastards think.

Bobby Kent: You enjoyed that back there, didn't you?

Marty: No way, man, I ain't queer like those guys.

Bobby Kent: Yeah, bullshit, bullshit, I think you like dick. You don't gotta lie to me, boy, I know you like dick.

[last lines]

[talking in the court room]

Donny: I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing here, I didn't do shit, I don't know what I'm fucking here for...

Marty: You stabbed him, dude. What the fuck do you want... Oh, you shut the fuck up!

Lisa: [about Bobby] He treats everyone like shit. He's always mean. He's always cruel. He beats you up.

Lisa: [laughs] He's even too weird for Ali and she's into everything! He's the source of everybody's troubles, Marty. And even still, he's going to finish high school and go to college and probably get rich.

Marty: Yeah, and I'm going to be delivering pizzas to him in Weston. How would we get a gun?

Lisa: My ma has one.

Marty: Shit! That motherfucker! He's fucking dissed me... he's fucking treated me like shit my whole goddamn life!

Lisa: Let's kill him.

[Marty sticks out his tongue and Lisa sucks it as she puts her arms around him]

Marty: No shit.

Bobby Kent: [after Marty bumps Bobby's car into a curb] Aw you fuck, you fucked up my fuckin car! Fuck!

Marty: [Bobby punches Marty] Watch the fuck out man! You're gonna make me fuckin wreck!

Bobby Kent: [punching Marty again] You stupid fuck!

Marty: Aw fuck!

Bobby Kent: Piece of shit!

Marty: Motherfucker! Fuck this, man, shit!

Bobby Kent: [as Marty stops the car and walks out] Marty? Hey! Get in the car!

[first lines]

Marty: [on the phone with a customer] I want you to suck my big dick.

Mrs. Puccio: [from downstairs] Marty, honey, dinner!

Marty: [into the phone] I want you to lick my balls.

Zachariah: I'm going to be over to kill you Tuesday.

Marty: [Nods] . That's good, I'm not doing anything Tuesday.

Hans: Marty, I've been reading your movie. Your women characters are awful. None of them have anything to say for themselves. And most of them get either shot or stabbed to death within five minutes. And the ones that don't probably will later on.

Marty: Well, it's a hard world for women. I guess that's what I'm trying to say.

Hans: Yeah, it's a hard world for women, but most of the ones I know can string a sentence together.

[Marty Tells Vietnamese psychopath story]

Billy: That's a great fuckin' psychopath Marty!

Marty: [sighs] Yeah... But it's not what I wanna really be writin' about anymore.

Billy: [pauses to think] Hey new idea how 'bout we change the title from The Seven Psychopaths to The Seven Lesbians Who Are All Disabled And Have Overcome All Their Spazzy Shit And Are Really Nice to Everybody And Two of Them Are Black. How 'bout that?

Charlie: Should've brought that gun along, buddy.

Marty: I don't believe in them.

Charlie: In guns? You don't believe in guns? They ain't fucking leprechauns, you dumb Mick.

Marty: I don't have a drinking problem. I just like drinking.

Billy: Of course you do, Marty. One: You're a writer. Two: You're from Ireland. It's part of your heritage. You're fucked!

Marty: How are you ever gonna get a job, Billy, if you break the director guy's nose before you even got the part?

Billy: I didn't mean to break his nose. His nose was just in the middle of where I was punching.

Hans: My wife is sitting on a chair someplace. Some gray place. I thought she'd be in Heaven, but she's sitting on a chair with a bullet in her head. I thought they'd have cleaned that kind of stuff up.

Marty: Maybe you've just eaten too many hallucinogenic cactuses tonight, Hans.

Hans: Nothing to do with the hallucinogens.

Marty: But you've just seen Myra on a chair with a bullet through her head.

Hans: In some gray place.

Marty: England?

Hans: It seemed a lot worse than that.

Marty: Wow.

Marty: That's just fucking great! Oh great! Do you know what that is?

Hans: Yeah.

Marty: Do you know what that is?

Hans: Great.

Marty: That's just fucking great!

Hans: We can't leave him.

Marty: You ain't gonna fight.

Hans: Of course I ain't gonna fight, but I ain't gonna run.

Marty: What are you gonna do then?

Hans: I guess I'm gonna die.

Marty: Friends don't make their friends die Hans.

Hans: Psychopathic friends do. You're the one thought psychopaths were so interesting, but they're kinda tiresome after awhile, don't you think?

Billy: Okay, here we go. Exterior. Cemetery. Night. The shoot-out. Yeah! The Jack O' Diamonds is waiting there with Bonny, and he's arranged to give him back and have this whole thing end because all he really wants is peace. You know, like Gandhi or Jesus or that other guy. Anyway, he's waiting there for the Mafia boss, who's agreed to show up alone and unarmed. But, yeah, guess what?

Marty: Wait, wait a minute. Surely he knows that the Mafia boss is a psycho? Why would he believe he'd show up alone and unarmed? You know?

Billy: Yeah. Exactly! Maybe the Jack O' Diamonds was expecting to get double-crossed because he just happens to have brought a couple of friends along. Suddenly, from out of every fucking grave burst the seven psychopaths, a gun in every hand. Flamethrower! Who the fuck is that? It's the Vietcong guy. He was hiding up a tree. You!

[Points to Marty]

Billy: You're there, but you're just there to observe, and that's all right. Nobody thinks you're a pussy. But it's started raining now. Lightning. And oh, no, look who's wandered in like a fucking idiot. It's Kaya. She's come to say sorry to you, and she loves you, and that she didn't mean to be such a fucking bitch. You scream out, "Kaya! Stay back!" Too late, she's fucking mown down. Fucking mown down! Her head almost comes off. Her head does come off. You scream out her name, all sad, and she dies. You throw your notepad away. Art and peace and all that shit can wait! Now's the time for men to be men! "Fuck you, you cunts!" It's really emotional. And then... Hold on. Yeah... The black chick from the serial killer killers. She fought good, but she's the next to croak. Zachariah dies, too. He buys it. Dies in her arms. And they die and they're old and mental, and so much in love. You know, it's really sad. But his rabbit gets away, though, because you can't let the animals die in a movie. Just the women. Anyway, guns, guns, guns! Blam, blam, blam. The Vietcong gets hit. Then he dies, and he never even had a fucking name, and he's so good. With his dying move, he throws his nunchakus and he kills two of the bastards.

Hans: Nunchakus are Japanese.

Billy: [Ignores this] So the only ones left are you and Hans. Peace is for queers. And now you're gonna die. But the Jack O' Diamonds isn't dead at all. He was just a bit injured and he had a fucking crossbow up his sleeve. That's not enough, so he pulls out a shotgun. Goodbye. And as the Jack O' Diamonds dies in their arms, he whispers, "We did good, we did good, didn't we, Marty?" And through your tears, you say, "Ah, bejesus, Jack, "we did more than good. We did grand." Jack says, "All I ever wanted was to be your friend. Marty, I'm your friend now, ain't I?" And you say, "Ah, bejesus, sure, you're me best friend, Jack. "You're me best friend." And then the Jack O' Diamonds dies. And as his soul leaves his body to go dance with the angels, we pan up over the blood-strewn cemetery and off into the pretty blue skies of dawn. Skies blue enough to suggest that maybe there can be peace one day in this troubled but beautiful world. Maybe there can be peace because that would be good!

Marty: Billy's a psychopath, Hans.

Hans: I guess he's made it into your movie now.

Billy: How's the Seven Psychopaths coming, Marty?

Marty: Slow, slow. I've got the title, y'know... just haven't been able to come up with all the psychopaths yet.

Billy: How many you got?

Marty: One. And he ain't really much of a psychopath. He's more of a... kind of a Buddhist.

Billy: A Buddhist?

Marty: Yeah, I'm sick of all these stereotypical Hollywood murderer scumbag type psychopath movies. I don't want it to be one more film about guys with guns in their hands. I want it... overall... to be about love... and peace. But it still has to be about these seven psychopaths, so this Buddhist psychopath, he... he doesn't believe in violence. I don't know what the fuck he's going to do in the movie.

Billy: Is that a guinea pig? It's a gerbil, isn't it? That's enormous. Hey, Marty, we just seen some kind of giant gerbil.

[Marty punches Billy]

Billy: Marty, you alcoholic fucking bastard.

Hans: Yeah, you might wanna stop drinking, Martin, if this is the way you're gonna behave.

Marty: If this is the way I'm gonna... This guy just telephoned a psycho-killer to come down and psycho-kill us. And this guy's doubting a lifelong belief in the afterlife because of a psychedelic cactus he just ate. And you motherfuckers are telling me to behave?

Billy: Whoa. Whoa. Time out. What's all this about doubting a lifelong belief in the afterlife because of a psychedelic cactus you just ate? Hans, what the heck?

Hans: I met Myra. On the ridge. She had some things to say.

Billy: About the afterlife being non-existent or something?

Hans: That was the gist.

Billy: No, no, it might have sounded like Myra. But you know why? Now don't get mad, but you know I can do Myra's voice pretty good. Yeah, I snuck up there a little while ago and I pretended to be her. I started saying all kinds of crazy stuff.

Hans: Hmm? But what specifically did you say? About the place you were in? The place Myra was in. Huh? How did you describe it, specifically?

Billy: You mean specifically?

Hans: Yeah.

Billy: I just kind of said it was all kind of... I just kind of said it was all kind of gray and shit.

Hans: No.

Billy: You're fucked from birth. The Spanish got bullfighting. The French got cheese. And the Irish have alcoholism.

Marty: And what do the Americans have?

Billy: Tolerance.

Billy: What the hell happened?

Marty: Some punks jumped us. Said they were looking for a little shih tzu. Then some other punk killed those punks.

Billy: I've only been gone 10 fucking minutes!

Marty: It's impossible for someone's head to actually explode, isn't it? When it gets shot.

Billy: No, no, it's possible. If the person's head was made out of explosives, it's possible.

Marty: I don't remember doing anything to piss her off.

Billy: Don't worry about it. She's probably pissed at you not for anything specific, more because she's a fucking bitch.

Marty: She's not a fucking bitch, Billy. She's just got issues.

Billy: Yeah, she's got issues. She's got "being a fucking bitch" issues.

Billy: Now don't get mad.

Marty: What the hell did you do?

Billy: I set the car on fire.

Marty: How the hell are we supposed to get home? We're in the middle of the fucking desert, Billy.

Billy: Yeah, that's the least of our worries.

Marty: What else did you do?

Billy: I'll give you a clue. Come on in. So, yeah, I just called up old Charlie Costello and I told him where we were and to come down and get his dog back and said if he had any trouble finding us, just look for a Buick on fire. But I did tell him to promise to come alone and unarmed, and he said he would. And he'll be here in a couple of hours, depending on traffic.

Marty: This guy just telephoned a psycho-killer to come down and psycho-kill us!

Marty: Are you pissed at me, baby?

Kaya: Why would I be pissed at you, Marty?

Billy: [Kaya brushes past Billy and slams the door as she leaves] Because you're a cunt?

Marty: [warningly] Billy!

Marty: You know what I think the movie should be? The first half should be a perfect setup for an out-and-out revenge flick. Violence. Guns. All the usual bullshit. And then... The lead characters should just walk away. They should just drive off into the desert and pitch a tent somewhere and just talk for the rest of the frigging movie. No shoot-outs, no pay-offs. Just human beings talking.

Billy: What, are we making French movies now? That sounds like the stupidest ending. No shoot-outs? That sounds like the stupidest ending I've ever fucking... NO SHOOT-OUTS?

Marty: No?

Billy: NO!

Marty: Sorry for hitting you in the face so hard.

Billy: That's all right. It was a pretty good punch, for a pacifist.

Marty: You shot him in the back?

Billy: Of course I shot him in the back I was going for his spine.

Charlie Kaufman: The book has no story. There's no story.

Marty: Alright. Make one up.

Marty: See her? I fucked her up the ass.

Marty: I'd fuck her up the ass!

Evan Baxter: I can't shave. Whenever I shave it just grows back!

Marty: That's what happens when you shave. But then you shave again!

Evan Baxter: Get on the Ark! Everyone on the Ark, now!

Marty: I think we should get on the Ark.

Eugene: I agree. I think we should get on the Ark, also.

Rita: I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm going home.

[the dam breaks and a wall of water comes at them]

Rita: Ladies first! Move!

Willie Conway: How old are you?

Marty: Thirteen. But I have an old soul.

Marty: I like to mash snow. It gives me a tremendous feeling of self satisfaction.

Marty: If I'm not mistaken, you've come back here to the house of loneliness and tears, to Daddy Downer and Brother Bummer, to come to some sort of decision about life, a life decision if you will.

Willie Conway: What are you doing?

Marty: Another exciting Saturday night.

Willie Conway: You got many exciting Saturday nights in your future.

Marty: Yeah, yeah. So your lady's here, huh?

Willie Conway: Yeah, yeah.

Marty: I saw her. She- she's really pretty.

Willie Conway: She's OK. She's not as pretty as you, though.

Marty: Kinda got that boob-thing going for her .

Paul: So you're the little neighborhood Lolita.

Marty: So you're the alcoholic high school buddy shit for brains.

Willie Conway: Bye Marty.

Marty: Later Pooh.

Marty: I might just grow to be five-ten. I'll be hot.

Marty: What we've been doing lately is smoking massive amounts of drugs, binging on Entemmann's and listening to old Pink Floyd CD's.

Marty: It's a tragedy of Elizabethan proportions.

Marty: Alas, poor Romeo, we can't do diddly.

Willie Conway: [from a window] Hey.

Marty: Romeo and Juliet, the dyslexic version.

Willie Conway: Are you a cop?

Marty: No.

Marty: Two words not in her vocabulary: lunch money.

Dawn Campbell: Why don't you like my spots?

Marty: Honey, this look is hurting you, and it's hurting Huckabees.

Dawn Campbell: This is myself.

Marty: Then you won't speak at the benefit as yourself. That is not Huckabees.

Dawn Campbell: I am still Huckabees.

Marty: Not in that bonnet.

Dawn Campbell: It's in my eyes, Marty. It's like that story of the cave.

Marty: What in God's name is happening to you? We trusted you. We took care of you. We made you into a national icon. Pulled you out of a mall. Eh, you've been given everything by Huckabees.

Dawn Campbell: Fuck-a-bees!

[Marty points to the Table Limit Sign $10 minimum]

Marty: Come on, Griswold, You think that sign is there to hold the table down?

Clark Griswold: What can I do with five dollars?

Marty: Gee, I don't know. Buy a bullet and rent a gun?

Marty: You don't know when to quit, do ya Griswold? Here's an idea: Why don't you give me half the money you were gonna bet? Then, we'll go out back, I'll kick you in the nuts, and we'll call it a day!

Marty: Woo hoo... Big bet for a BIG man... Sure you don't want to save a few bucks for the buffet?

[Clark is playing blackjack]

Clark Griswold: Twenty. I'll stay.

Marty: [flips over his card] Wha...? It's twenty. It's a push!

Clark Griswold: I didn't lose!

Marty: That's it, Griswold! You are freakin dead!

Marty: I, um, I guess I have some issues.

Olivia: You do?

Marty: You know, people sort of, problems. I have them.

Marty: You're gonna want to cut those apron strings. Otherwise you're never going to be a real man!

Adam: I don't need to be a real man. I'm an actor!

[Self-conscious about her heart transplant scars, Grace checks her appearance in a mirror]

Angelo: Grace, come on, it's been over a year, you can hardly see it anymore.

Grace Briggs: Nice try, Angelo. I just don't like all the questions, you know?

Marty: You tell everybody you're just the luckiest girl in the world.

Grace Briggs: I know, Grandpa, I know.

Marty: You're beautiful, and no one's going to notice your chest.

Grace Briggs: Thanks a lot.

Marty: [to Angelo, who is singing Italian songs loudly in the kitchen] Will you go find yourself a gondola?

Marty: This guy you're talking about, he can't sing at all.

Angelo: He can't sing? Then why has he got such a big band?

Wally Jatczak: To drown him out!

Marty: It's the character that's the strongest that God gives the most challenges to. Now you can take that as a compliment.

Simon Wilder: [quoting Walt Whitman] "To drive free, to love free, to court destruction with taunts, to feed the remainder of life with one hour of fullness and freedom - one brief hour of madness and joy."

Marty: Would you like to dance?

Monty: [to Simon] Maybe you shouldn't...

Simon Wilder: Let's not go overboard with this "staying alive" junk.

Gail Dwyer: I hate you! You did this to me you miserable piece of dick-brained, horseshit slime-sucking son of a whore bitch!

Marty: That's perfect! I got it all on film, the kids will love it!

Arnie: Ah, ya cheap shit.

Marty: What did you say?

Arnie: Oh gee, I didn't say nothing mister, you must be hearing things. Bye bye, Arnie loves you. Ya penis-head.

Marty: Now I heard that!

Arnie: Heard what?

Marty: I heard what you said!

Arnie: I didn't say nothing... Ya fat ass pussy.

Gail Dwyer: Who is that, honey?

Marty: It's, uh, my mother.

Gail Dwyer: I thought she was dead!

Marty: Yeah, I know, it's really weird!

Marty: I'm not gonna buy your damn video!

Arnie: But the kids will love it...

Marty: My kids will hate it because they think your show sucks!

Arnie: [after a long pause] Oh.

Samuel Faulkner: Thanks anyway.

Arnie: Oh sure, no hard feelings okay?

Marty: Alright.

[He and Samuel walk away]

Arnie: Ah ya cheap shit.

Marty: You know what? I would walk over there and kick your bony little ass if I wasn't going to have my 5 year-old daughter do it!

Newton Davis: So, what do you think, can you show this to Moseby?

Marty: Ah... you'd better do it.

Newton Davis: Why? He likes you.

Marty: Davis, if I take that in there and Moseby starts carrying on about how brilliant it is... I'm going to take the credit.

Newton Davis: What?

Marty: Mmm hmm.

Newton Davis: You're my friend, where are your ethics?

Marty: My ethics are that I know this about myself, so I'm not going to take this in there and screw you over.

Marty: What are you, insane? Why didn't you just kick him in the balls and tell him he has ugly children?

Marty: Of marriage?

Newton Davis: It's not a marriage! It is a simple arrangement in which I will share my house with her and in exchange for which she will argue with me in public and generally make my life incredibly terrible.

Marty: That's marriage.

Marty: Don't go dying on me. Remember, I'm a lawyer. I've got friends in hell.

Marty: Well listen, you better find some inspiration soon. For one thing, you need the money. And you know what? It's embarrassing - I've gotta tell the people in my business that my best young writer lives on Long Island. Writers live in Manhattan, Barry. Joey Butafucco's live on Long Island. You know what I'm saying?

Marty: Are you being wise?

Jackie-O: One day I woke up wise.

Marty: One day I woke up stupid.

Jackie-O: What'd you do?

Marty: I went back to bed.

Jackie-O: That was wise.

Anthony: Would you like a glass of Liebfraumilch?

Lesly: No thank you. I'll just have a glass of wine.

Marty: That's the name of the wine.

Lesly: Oh!

[laughs]

Lesly: I don't speak french.

Jackie-O: Who does?

Anthony: You do.

Jackie-O: Oh, that's right, I do.

[smiles]

Lesly: So what does that name mean?

Jackie-O: In french?

Lesly: [nods]

Jackie-O: I think it means something German.

Marty: It means, "loving mother's milk."

Lesly: You speak french?

Marty: No. German.

Jackie-O: What about what *we* have?

Marty: *Had*

Jackie-O: I don't recognize the past tense.

Jackie-O: Sorry about that, by the way, I didn't mean to maim you. I only meant to kill you.

Marty: These things happen.

Mrs. Pascal: What's that gun doing there?

Jackie-O: It's not a gun. It's a camera.

Mrs. Pascal: It's a gun.

Jackie-O: It's a camera that looks like a gun.

Marty: Relax, Mama, it isn't loaded.

Mrs. Pascal: How do you know?

Marty: I checked.

Mrs. Pascal: What's it doing there?

Jackie-O: Being gunlike, gunesque, gunonic.

Mrs. Pascal: Where did it come from?

Jackie-O: God?

Mrs. Pascal: Oh my God, I sounded just like a mother! Didn't I sound just like a mother?

Marty: You are a mother.

Mrs. Pascal: I know, but I still can't believe it. I look at you people and wonder, how did you ever fit in my womb?

Marty: Leslie, this is Jackie-O.

Lesly: Hi!

Marty: My Mother. Anthony. Meet Leslie. Leslie and I are engaged!

Jackie-O: [screams hysterically, then laughs hysterically]

Jackie-O: [still laughing] I have to find my hairbrush.

Lesly: Oh, I have a comb.

Jackie-O: [squints angrily, then runs away]

Anthony: [to Jackie] I hear you crying at night alone in your room.

Anthony: [to Marty] I hear her crying at night alone in her room.

Marty: [to Jackie] You cry at night alone in your room?

Anthony: Hey, don't make fun of her! I won't let you make fun of her.

Marty: I wasn't going to make fun of her. I was going to ask her what she cries about.

Jackie-O: [turns away] What do you think? You want somebody for a very long time. And then you have them. And they love you. And they make love to you. But it's not enough. This is the truth about sex.

Anthony: Is that why Peter was lousy in bed?

Jackie-O: I'm not talking about Peter, Anthony.

Jackie-O: [turns towards them, crying] Jesus, I'm talking about Marty.

Jackie-O: I see Anthony wears a lot of layers around me, don't 'cha Anthony? He's got a tee shirt, a dress shirt, a vest, and a jacket.

Anthony: I'm wearing a jacket because it's Thanksgiving

Jackie-O: You weren't wearing it before.

Anthony: I put it on after Marty got here.

Marty: I appreciate it. It looks nice.

Anthony: I think it belonged to a Kennedy.

Marty: Why? Is there a bullet hole?

Jackie-O: Guess where I am? I'm in a box and I can't get out.

Marty: No. I'm in a box and I can't get out.

Jackie-O: Well, I'm sorry that wasn't a very good mime, Marty, I didn't see that at all.

Marty: It's endlessly fucked up to me that you steal cars from dead people.

Alan: They're not dead people.

Ben: Yeah, they're dead people's relatives.

Marty: I remember when you were nice boys.

Melanie: Hey, Marty.

Marty: [to his buddy] This is it.

Melanie: What can I get you?

Marty: A side of you.

[shows her a ring]

Marty: My mom says it's a slippery slope. You start with pot and you end up going to, like, community college or something.

[In the Night Club after Drexel has beaten Clarence]

Drexl Spivey: He must have thought it was white boy day. It ain't white boy day, is it?

Marty: No man, It ain't white boy day.

Marty: He's askin' about Alabama.

Drexl Spivey: Where the fuck is that bitch?

Clarence Worley: She's with me.

Drexl Spivey: Who the fuck are you?

Clarence Worley: I'm her husband.

Drexl Spivey: [laughs] Well, that makes us practically related.

Marty: I got a job for you.

Private Detective Visser: Uh, well, if the pay's right, and it's legal, I'll do it.

Marty: It's not strictly legal.

Private Detective Visser: [Thinks for a second] Well, if the pay's right, I'll do it.

[Visser has just given Marty some bad news]

Marty: You know... in Greece, they would cut off the head of the messenger that brought the bad news.

Private Detective Visser: Now that don't make much sense.

Marty: No. It made them feel better.

Private Detective Visser: Well first off, Julian, I don't know what the story is in Greece but in this state we got very definite laws about that. Second place I ain't a messenger, I'm a private investigator. And third place - and most important - it ain't such bad news. I mean you thought he was a colored. You're always assumin' the worst.

Marty: [to Ray, out in back of the bar] You a fuckin' marriage counselor? What are you smilin' at? I'm funny? Right? I'm an asshole? No, no, no, no, no, no. That's not what's funny. What's funny is *her*. What's funny is, that I had you two followed, because if it's not you she's sleeping with, it's someone else. And what's really gonna be funny, is when she gives you that innocent look and says, "I don't know what you're talkin' about, Ray, I ain't done anything funny" But the funniest thing to *me*, right now, is that you think that she came back here for *you*. That's what's fuckin' funny!

Marty: [after Visser agrees to kill Abby and Ray for $10,000] I'll take care of the money, you just make sure those bodies aren't found...

[starts to turn away, then turns back]

Marty: ... there's a big incinerator in back of my place.

Private Detective Visser: [after Marty walks away] Jeeee-sus, you are disgustin'.

[Marty gives Visser his money]

Marty: Count it, and go.

Private Detective Visser: Naw, I trust you.

[Visser shoots Marty]

Meurice: Marty. Thought you were dead. You goin' home?

Marty: No. I'm staying right here in hell.

Meurice: Kind of a bleak point of view there, isn't it, Marty?

Marty: Meurice... I don't want the asshole near my money. And I don't want him in the bar.

Meurice: [pause] We get a lotta assholes in here, Marty.

Private Detective Visser: [about a photo of Ray and Abby] I know a place you can get that framed.

Marty: What did you take these for?

Private Detective Visser: What do you mean? Just doin' my job.

Marty: You called me, I knew they were there, so what do I need these for?

Private Detective Visser: Well, I don't know... Call it a fringe benefit.

Marty: How long did you watch her?

Private Detective Visser: Most of the night... They'd just rest a few minutes and then get started again. Quite something.

[grabbing Abby from behind after breaking into Ray's house]

Marty: Lover boy really oughta lock his door. Lotta nuts out there.

Marty: [looking at a doctored photo of Ray and Abby] Dead?

Private Detective Visser: So it would seem.

Marty: Lover-boy oughta lock his door. I love you... That's a stupid thing to say, right?

Abby: I... I love you too.

Marty: [smiling] No. You're just saying that because you're scared. You left your weapon behind... He'll kill you too.

Marty: I'll give you 10,000 dollars.

Private Detective Visser: Now I... do a murder. Two murders. Trust you not to go simple on me and do something stupid. I mean, really stupid. Now, why should I trust you?

Marty: For the money.

Private Detective Visser: For money. Yeah, that's a right smart of money. In Russia, they make only 50 cent a day.

Marty: What'd you do with the bodies?

Private Detective Visser: It's taken care of. The less you know about it, the better.

Private Detective Visser: How did you cover the money?

Marty: It's been taken care of. And the less you know about it, the better.

Marty: Let's do it outside, in nature.

Sam: I dare you to drop your pants, and your underwear, and show all of us that famous dick of yours for ten seconds.

Marty: Okay. All right, I will show you... because I am proud of my boys. But after this, no one is allowed to wimp out on any of their dares. Now, Millie, cover your eyes. Marty doesn't want to go to jail.

Marty: Woo. Ah, ya... Nothing beats a good piss in the river. Except of course a good ole romping session of a stupid, ugly, dumb, pathetic piece of shit.

Rocky: Yeah, about that - I wanna call it off.

Marty: I'm not laughing.

Rocky: Dead serious.

Marty: You mean to tell me that you get me all juiced up over this, I steal my mother's car and come down here on a Saturday, when I could be at home, watching television? I'm out here on this river with a bunch of munchkins who are sober as hell and bringing me down... and now you tell me that we don't even get to do what we came here for?

Rocky: What are you going to do?

Marty: I'm gonna drive to Mexico. What do you think?

Rocky: I don't know what to think.

Marty: Well if you don't know what to think, then you probably shouldn't be making decisions.

Marty: That's what you get when you fuck with Martini Blank!

George: [as Marty drinks a beer while driving] Hey, Marty? My mom made me sign one of those contracts, telling her I wouldn't get in a car with a driver who's been drinking...

Marty: Oh, it's cool. My mom gave me permission to drink and drive. You don't have to worry about it.

George: Your mom must be pretty stupid to let your drive inebriated.

Marty: [Rocky scoffs] You're right, George. My mom *is* pretty stupid. In fact she's got one of those learning disability things.

George: Must be a pretty bad LD. I have an LD, but I should know you're not suppose to drive drunk.

Marty: What do you guys say we play some Truth or Dare?

George: Yeah. Yeah, I love that game.

Marty: Okay, let's do it.

Millie: No, let's not. People's feelings always end up hurt when we play this game.

Sam: Yeah, she's right.

George: God, Sam and Millie are a couple of little wet pussies, aren't they?

Marty: Clyde, do you wanna start?

Clyde: I dunno. I'm kind of with Sam and Millie on this one.

George: [pointing with his finger] Pussy number one, pussy number two, pussy number three.

Millie: Go ahead, Clyde. Start the game.

Jasper: What are the paddles for?

Marty: We're going cow spanking.

Jasper: Cow spanking? What's that?

Marty: It's like cow tipping, only we spank.

Jasper: Really.

Rocky: Come on let's get this stuff and get out of here.

Jasper: While you boys are out cow spanking, Kile and I are gonna go pussy huntin'.

Marty: Good for you, Jasper.

Kile: [smacks Marty in the head] Hey, don't get sassy with my boy.

Jasper: You ever been pussy hunting?

[Kile holds a balloon up to Marty's face and squeezes it, so it looks like two pulsating balls]

Jasper: I didn't think so. You know how I knew? You got to have bait to catch one.

Marty: Hey, you guys ever hear when Rocky and I were kicking out here? We got some poison oak on our hands.

Rocky: This is a disgusting story.

Marty: Anyway, so we're out here and we got some poison oak on our hands. With all the beers we were drinkin' naturally we had to take a piss. Now I don't know if you're hip, Millie, but when a guy pisses he has to hold his pisser in his hands like so.

[Marty turns around to face Millie and uses both hands to hold a huge imaginary penis]

Millie: Thanks, Marty.

Marty: No, I'm not finished yet. Next morning when we woke up we both had totally chapped rashin' nuts!

Clyde: [on Marty's proposal to bury the body] We can't do that! It's nuts!

Marty: That's nuts? Oh, it's nuts! No, Clyde! Going to prison and getting raped every night for the rest of your cute little fucking lives is nuts!

Marty: [pointing a gun at a bottle] Kiss my ass, Mr.Shaham, kiss my ass, Mr. Estes, kiss my ass, Miss Johnson, kiss my ass, Mr. Rosenthal

[fires and misses]

Marty: Shit.

Kile: What are you doing with my shooter, twerp-face?

Marty: Target practice

Kile: It's 11 a.m. in the morning, for Christ's sake.

Marty: Most people are doing cartwheels by 11, Kile.

Kile: Aren't you supposed to be in school?

Marty: Fuck school, I don't see you in school, and besides... you're not Dad.

Kile: Come here...

[shouts]

Kile: Come here!

Kile: [pushes Marty's face to the ground] You're right, I'm not Dad, Dad didn't hit as hard as me, I don't really wanna hear about Dad, understand? You understand?

Marty: Yes.

Kile: Now hand me my gun you little stupid, if you ever take this without my permission again you'll be sorry, you understand?

Marty: Yes.

Kile: Get it?

Marty: Yes.

Marty: [grabs bat and smashes the glass bottle] Kiss my ass, Kile!

Marty: I'm a man who likes to follow through with his plans.

Clyde: If anything, it's a beautiful day.

George: It smells like cherry blossoms.

Millie: How do you know what cherry blossoms smell like?

George: I know what they smell like!

Rocky: Does anybody really know what a cherry blossom is?

George: Duh, it's a blossom on a cherry.

Rocky: I don't know. I thought it was a blossom all on it's own. What do you think, Marty?

Marty: I think I'm bored as fuck.

Jasper: What are the paddles for?

Marty: We're going cow-spanking.

Kile: What the fuck is cow-spanking?

Marty: Well, it's like cow-tipping, except we spank.

Marty: I say we smoke that ham!

Rocky: Everyone else wants to call it off.

Marty: Everyone else is a vagina!

Marty: You always gotta go with the best idea you've got. Otherwise, you're just left lying around - not knowing what to do.

Marty: Close your eyes ,Millie, Marty's not getting sent to jail.

[Millie covers her eyes]

Sam: What do you think's going to happen, Marty? Superman's gonna fly on Earth and turn back time?

Marty: No, I don't think Superman's going to turn back time.

Clyde: [Marty holds a joint in front of Clyde's face] What'd I tell you?

Marty: You don't smoke herb?

Clyde: Yeah, so get it out of my face.

Marty: Faggot.

Marty: [Clyde gives disapproving look] Clydo, I'm just fucking with you, your not a faggot, all right? Okay? Fist bump? Fist bump?

[Clyde bumps his fist]

Marty: All right zero kill.

Marty: Besides, I like your dads, Clyde, I never knew any homosexual men personally until I met them, they're not so bad.

[in mocking feminine voice]

Marty: Don't you think so Rocky?

Marty: [as he lights up a cigarette] You cannot be serious. That is pathetic.

Gary Spargo: [using his asthma inhaler] That's Chris Pratt.

[hits Marty's seat]

Gary Spargo: Put that fucking thing out.

Marty: And, Sam, in the mean time, no dames. Understand?

Sam: I've got a dame on my mind, and she's dead. And that's plenty for me.

Helen: I must warn you, though, liquor makes me nosy. I've been known to ask all sorts of personal questions after four cocktails.

Marty: 'sallright. I've been known to tell people to mind their own business. Cold sober, too.

Mrs. Kraft: How come you got a hold of this information?

Marty: Through underworld connections, like it says in the newspapers. I'm a bad boy.

Marty: And remember, glamour girl, I'll do this on just one condition.

Mrs. Kraft: What's that?

Marty: That you don't make any passes at me when you get me out there. I'm a very shy kid.

Marty: You can't just go around killin' people whenever the notion strikes you. It's not feasible.

Marty: I've been scared somethin' like this would happen. The way you go off your head. And it's been worse, lately. Ever since that nervous crackup last summer. Honest, Sam, you go nuts about nothin'. Nothin' at all. You gotta' watch that. You can't just go around killin' people whenever the notion strikes you. It's not feasible.

Sam: [angrily] Why isn't it!

Marty: All right, Sam. All right. It is.

Marty: Don't get mad.

Helen: I am getting mad. I resent people marching into something that doesn't concern them.

Marty: You think it doesn't. It concerns me all right, if it concerns Sam.

David: [David has been accused of ignoring his team for a girl] You know I don't roll like that!

Marty: Sorry dawg, but you do, man. You did with Dawn, you did it with Shondrella, and you did it with the triplets LaTeesha, LaTasha, LaToya...

Marty: Now, why's he smilin'?

Lars: Let's crack open his head and find out.

Marty: My life is starting to turn into a horror movie. But who is the monster? Is it Dad? Is it Steve? Is it me?

Marty: My brother keeps a human head in his closet.

Marty: My life really is turning into a horror movie. And you know how they end.

Diane: Ahhh... this is probably going to be seem a little strange. We hear better on this channel. Don't ask me why. Well... ah... I guess I will call her. Carol Anne. Ah... it's mommy, sweetheart. Ah, we want to talk to you. Please answer me baby. Please answer me. Please talk to me, bunny.

Marty: Look at the dog.

Diane: Are you with us now? Can you... can you say hello to daddy?

Carol Anne: Hello, daddy.

Steve: Hello, sweet pea.

Diane: It's mommy, sweetheart.

Carol Anne: Hello, mommy.

Diane: Hello, baby. Can you see me? Can you see mommy?

Carol Anne: Mommy? Where are you? Where are you?

Diane: We're home, baby. We're home. Can you find me? Can you find a way to us, baby?

Carol Anne: Mommy, where are you? I can't find you. I can't. I'm afraid of the Light, mommy. I'm afraid of the Light.

Diane: You were saying about poltergeists.

Dr. Lesh: Poltergeists are usually associated with an individual. Hauntings seem to be connected with an area. A house usually.

Marty: Poltergeist disturbances are of a fairly short duration. Perhaps a couple of months. Hauntings can go on for years.

Diane: Are you telling me that all of this could just suddenly end at any time?

Dr. Lesh: Yes, it could. Unless it's a haunting. But hauntings don't usually revolve around living people.

Diane: Then we don't have much time, Dr. Lesh, because my daughter is alive somewhere inside this house.

Dana: I'm so sorry I almost shot you... I probably wouldn't have.

Marty: Hey. Hey, no, shh, no. I totally get it.

[pauses to light a reefer]

Marty: I'm sorry I let you get attacked by a werewolf and then ended the world.

Marty: Statistical fact. Cops will never pull over a man with a huge bong in his car. Why? They fear this man. They know he sees further than they... and he will bind them... with ancient logics.

Marty: Yeah, I, uh, I had to dismember that guy with a trowel. What have you been up to?

Marty: Okay, I'm drawing a line in the fucking sand, here. Do not read the Latin.

Marty: [referring to a one-way mirror that was discovered] It was the pioneer days. People had to make their own interrogation rooms.

Marty: Good work, zombie arm.

Marty: Okay, my turn! Jules!

Jules: Mmm?

Marty: Truth or dare?

Jules: Let's go dare.

Marty: All right. I dare you... to make out with...

Curt: Please say "Dana," please say "Dana," please say "Dana."

Marty: ...that moose, over there.

Dana: Um, Marty? Have you ever seen a moose before?

Marty: Whatever that mysterious beast is.

Curt: That's a wolf.

Holden: That's clearly a wolf.

[last lines]

Marty: [incredulous] Giant evil gods.

Dana: I wish I could've seen them.

Marty: I know. That would have been a fun weekend.

Marty: [after discovering a hidden camera] Oh, my God. I'm on a reality TV show. My parents are gonna think I'm such a burnout.

Marty: We are not who we are.

[Realizing that he's stoned]

Marty: I'm gonna go read a book with pictures.

Marty: [whispers] Puppeteers...

Dana: Puppeteers?

Marty: Pop-Tarts? Did you say you have Pop-Tarts?

Marty: And I think I can get it to go down.

Dana: Do we wanna go down?

Marty: [drives up smoking a bong] People in this town drive in a very counterintuitive manner.

Marty: [to Dana kissing Holden] He's got a husband's bulge.

Curt: [seeing old gas pump] I'm thinking this thing doesn't take credit cards.

Marty: I don't think it knows about money.

Dana: The whole world, Marty.

The Director: ...Is in your hands, Dana. There is no other way. You have to be strong.

Marty: [sarcastically] Yeah, Dana. You feeling strong?

[the Zombie Redneck Torture Family are attacking the cabin]

Curt: Look. We gotta lock this place down.

Marty: He's right.

Curt: We'll go room by room. Barricade every window and door. We gotta play it safe. No matter what happens, we have to stay together.

Hadley: [Watching the kids from the control room, Hadley slaps his forehead] Fuck!

Sitterson: Calm down. Watch the master work.

[Sitterson pushes buttons on the control panel. A grille opens in a cabin wall and a gas pours through it; Curt enters the room and is affected by the gas at once]

Curt: This isn't right.

Holden: What? What's the matter?

Curt: Th-This isn't right. We should split up. We-We can cover more ground that way.

Holden: [also affected by the gas] Yeah... Yeah. Good idea.

Marty: [in disbelief that they just said something so stupid] Really?

[a zombie's axe crashes through a wall]

Curt: You guys, you guys, get in your rooms.

[Marty has a protesting expression as his friends run to different rooms. Cut to Hadley placidly eating popcorn]

Hadley: Lock 'em in.

Marty: Hey, what's going on?

Carol: Ever try it under the shower before?

[last lines]

Jennifer: [to medic] Can I go?

Medic: Ah. Yeah. Just try to get some rest.

Marty: Let me grab my jacket. I can give you a ride home. Stay here. I just left it inside the office.

Marty: Some authentic country rustic. When's the whittlin' start?

Marty: I'm a lawyer. I'm in control.

Marty: I never could defend a man who made less than 75 grand.

Marty: Do you think these glasses make me look smarter?

Rizzo: No, you can still see your face.

Rizzo: [breaks out a bottle of wine] How about a little Sneaky Pete to get the party going?

[the girls all cheer]

Jan: I got Twinkies. Anybody want one?

Marty: Twinkies and wine? Oh, that's real class, Jan.

Jan: It says right here it's a dessert wine.

[offers bottle to Sandy who's hesitant]

Jan: What's the matter? We don't got cooties!

Rizzo: I'll bet you've never had a drink before either, have you?

Sandy: Oh, yes I did. I had some champagne at my cousin's wedding once.

Rizzo: Well, ringa ding-ding.

Rizzo: [after telling Marty that she thinks she might be pregnant] Marty, you ain't gonna tell anybody about this, right?

Marty: Oh sure, Riz, look: I'll take it to the grave.

Marty: [Marty turns and pushes her way past people, Rizzo following her] Coming through, coming through. Lady with a baby.

Rizzo: [suggesting possible dates for dance] What about Rudy from the Capri Lounge?

Marty: [annoyed] Get serious!

Rizzo: It's just a suggestion.

Marty: Well, I already called him.

[Frenchy and Sandy are in the bathroom; Frenchy is about to pierce Sandy's ears]

Frenchy: Sandy, Sandy, beauty is pain.

[Sandy screams; Frenchy sticks her head out of the bathroom]

Frenchy: Could you please get me some ice to numb her earlobes?

Marty: Why don't you just let the cold water run, and stick her ear under the faucet?

Frenchy: Oh!

[goes back inside]

Rizzo: [the girls just convinced Sandy to try a cigarette, she does but starts coughing a lot from it] Ooh... I should've told you! You shouldn't inhale if you're not used to it!

Frenchy: Sandy, let me show you how to French inhale! It's really cool, watch!

Marty: [Frenchy starts inhale the smoke from her cigarette through her nose] That is the ugliest looking thing I ever saw.

Frenchy: Yeah, the guys really go for it! I mean that's how I got my nickname Frenchy!

Rizzo: Sure it is!

[Frenchy gets a little offended and play hits Rizzo on the leg]

Marty: What's with you tonight?

Rizzo: I feel like a defective typewriter.

Marty: Huh?

Rizzo: I skipped a period.

Marty: Think you're P.G.?

Blanche: [struggling with the cotton candy] How many?

Marty: One.

Vince: Hi, I'm Vince Fontaine, I'm judging the dance contest.

Marty: I don't think I'm entered.

Vince: A knockout like you? What's your name?

Marty: Marty.

Vince: Marty what?

Marty: Maraschino. You know, as in cherry.

Marty: Now, don't be impatient! Dr. Kirby will be here in a few minutes.

Eddie Cantor: Dr. Kirby? Listen -

[sitting up]

Marty: [pushing him back on gurney] Down!

Eddie Cantor: You don't understand!

[sitting up]

Fred: [pushing him back on gurney] Down!

Eddie Cantor: This is all a mistake!

[sitting up]

Fred: [pushing him back on gurney] Down!

Eddie Cantor: [flailing his legs and sobbing] Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh!

Nurse Hamilton: [as all three hold down his legs] And don't kick!

Eddie Cantor: [sitting up] I always kick on the fourth down.

Taylor: The trouble with me is I can never say what I really feel, what I really think. You do. It's one of the things I like about you.

Marty: You're very nice.

Taylor: I try not to be. I do try.

Marty: My mother always said I'd marry two men.

Taylor: Ah, only two?

Marty: Yes, but at the same time.

Taylor: At the same time? She said that?

Marty: No, it's my own idea. It's a secret desire, I confess it. I wouldn't live with both.

Taylor: No?

Marty: No, I'd divide my time. I'd have one one week and the other the next.

Taylor: Very nice. I'm just thinking what my mother would say.

Bert: She would find it... somewhat irregular.

Taylor: Somewhat irregular? God.

Marty: Don't go.

Taylor: If I don't go now, I never will... I mean it!

Marty: Whoa, minutemen!

Nick: Correction, they are pissed minutemen!