Mr. Grocer Quotes in Grosse Pointe Blank (1997)


Mr. Grocer Quotes:

  • Mr. Grocer: [singing] I'll be comin' around the mountain when I come / I'll be comin' around the mountain when I come / I'll be blowin' your fuckin' head off / I'll be blowin' your fuckin' head off / I'll be whackin' your fuckin' mind out when I come.

  • 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]

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • Mr. Grocer: Hey, if you're lookin' for a father figure I'll give you a spankin'!

  • Mr. Grocer: Smells like a wedding. You're breaking my heart down here Blank, I can't aim through the tears.

  • 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!

  • [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?

  • 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!

  • 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?

  • 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.

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