Mr. Jones Quotes in Charlie's Angels (2000)

[a film version of [link=tt0083486] is playing]

Mr. Jones: [sighs] Another movie from an old TV show.

Mr. Jones: [phone rings] That would be the white phone.

Mr. Jones: Nobody leaves until I get what I need.

Jeff Talley: Just get them to the front door.

[Jones shoots Jeff]

Jeff Talley: [staggers, falls to one knee; tosses DVD cases to him] Just let them go.

Mr. Jones: On you way, boy.

Mr. Jones: Listen. They're hunting him.

Rachel: Then help him.

Mr. Jones: It's too late. I told you - alone he's nothing.

Rachel: Take me to him now.

Mr. Jones: No. Your brother's already as good as dead.

Mr. Jones: Every time I come in the kitchen, you in the kitchen. In the goddamn refrigerator. Eatin' up all the food. All the chitlins... All the pigs' feet... All the collard greens... All the hog maws. I wanna eat them chitlins... I like pigs' feet.

Mrs. Jones: Craig, you know what your problem is? You have no game.

Craig Jones: What do you know about game? I got ALL the game.

Mrs. Jones: Now your father... he has game.

Mr. Jones: [coming out of the bathroom] Don't nobody go in the bathroom for about 35, 45 minutes. Somebody open up a window.

Craig Jones: You call that game?

[Craig's father catches him with a handgun]

Mr. Jones: What's that for?

Craig Jones: Protection.

Mr. Jones: Protection from who?

Craig Jones: Me and Smoke... I've got to walk Smokey down to his house.

Mr. Jones: Aw, man. Your mother and I never would've moved to this neighborhood if we'd known you need a gun to walk down the damn street.

Craig Jones: You know how it is 'round here...

Mr. Jones: Oh, no, son. That's not the way it is. You kids have been nothin' but punks. Sissified. So quick to pick up a gun. Too scared to take an ass-whipping.

[holds up his fists]

Mr. Jones: This is what makes you a man. When I was growing up, this was all the protection we needed. You win some, you lose some, but you live. You live to fight another day. Now you think you're a man with that gun in your hand, don't you?

Craig Jones: I'm a man without it!

Mr. Jones: Put the gun down.

[Craig complies]

Mr. Jones: C'mon, put up your dukes.

[Craig raises his fists]

Mr. Jones: NOW you're a man. Your uncle picked up a gun, too. He found out the hard way. 22 years old. You've got a choice. This is all you need, alright?

Craig Jones: I ain't trying to be no dog-catcher!

Mr. Jones: Why not?

Craig Jones: I don't even like dogs!

Mr. Jones: That's the beauty of it! I grab a dog, and I choke him, and I kick the shit out of him! All day long, my foot up a dog's ass! Just bang-bang-bang up his ass! That's my pleasure.

Craig Jones: No, thanks.

Mr. Jones: Well, I'll tell you one thing: round here, you go to work, you go to school. First of the month, the rent is due. If you ain't got nothin' on the table, you ain't gotta worry about catchin' a dog - You gotta worry about a dog catchin' YOUR ass!

Mr. Jones: [Mr. Jones snoring and talking in his sleep] Give me the two piece special. Lots of hotsauce and all the fries you can give me. Thank you, thank you.

Mr. Jones: Now when I went to bed last night. Didn't I tell you take out the trash?

Craig Jones: Yeah.

Mr. Jones: So, why didn't you do it?

Craig Jones: I fell asleep.

Mr. Jones: I wish you was sleeping right now, I knock you upside your head with a left hook make your ass wake up and take out that damn trash.

Craig Jones: [Craig goes to the trash can to dump out his cereal]

Mr. Jones: Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?

Craig Jones: I'm throwing this away. We ain't even got no milk.

Mr. Jones: You better put some water on that damn shit!

Craig Jones: Alright, I'll eat it.

Mr. Jones: Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Take the garbage out front son!

Mr. Jones: [in toilet] Boy, bring your ass up in here. What you talkin' 'bout, you wait 'til I come out? I smelled your shit for 22 years, now you can smell mine for five minutes.

Dana Jones: [after Craig punches Deebo out] He thinks he's the Mack...

Mr. Jones: Hehe. Macaroni.

Mr. Jones: [seeing a picture of Ruby Deagle Billy had drawn] The old bat never looked better.

Mr. Jones: It's great. You're doing fine.

Mr. Jones: Can't even count to ten and you win the lottery, aint that a bitch

Mr. Jones: I got your message, where is Craig?

Uncle Elroy: "Message"? I ain't sent you no damn MESSAGE.

Mr. Jones: You didn't call the sandwich joint with an urgent message

Uncle Elroy: Hell no Willie, boy you're startin' to think like a Dog. Leaving fleas & ticks suckin' on your old-ass brain.

Mr. Jones: Somebody send me a message, where is Craig & Day-Day

Uncle Elroy: I don't know. But come on in.

Uncle Elroy: [Sees his brother with poop in the back his uniform when coming in to his house] You know you got shit all over the back of your ass? Hey don't sit on that couch, put some paper down.

Deebo: Here come that dog truck. Shut your mouth! We about to fade to black.

Craig Jones: [as Craig notices Deebo standing in front of the truck] Daddy, Stop!

[Mr. Jones Screams]

Deebo: Get your punk-ass out of the car Craig, this is the re-match!

Deebo: Get out of the car!

Craig Jones: Punch It!

Tyrone: [as Mr. Jones drives away] Deebo! Help!

Craig Jones: Fake-Ass Suge Knight!

Deebo: [yelling out before kicking his brother in the stomach] You know I gonna find you and when I do, I'm gonna put my foot up in your ass!

[Looking down at his brother]

Deebo: Man get up!

Tyrone: Damn! Man, I'm tired. I'm goin to mommy's house.

Deebo: [pulling him by the chain on his leg] Come on!

Tyrone: [Yelling at Deebo] No!, No!

Mr. Jones: [on the way to Rancho Cucamonga] Did you see That! Those two niggas were acting like pit bull dogs!

Mr. Jones: Hey, young man! You got knocked the fuck out!

Craig Jones: What's that smell?

Mr. Jones: Must be your upper lip, son, I don't smell nothing.

Craig Jones: Ew, I do! It smell like you didn't fall in no mud!

Mr. Jones: [while Spraying air freshener] Just use some of this spray, son.

Craig Jones: Aw, Too much!

[Trying to get the window open]

Craig Jones: What's worng with this window?

Mr. Jones: It's broken, remind me to get it fixed

Craig Jones: [Struggling to get the window open] Damn!

Mr. Jones: Hot sauce... for my burrito! You taste so good to me!

Mr. Jones: Now Craig, it's gonna be different living out here. Don't let your Uncle or your cousin get you in any shit. Now you hear me?

Craig Jones: Pops I'm grown now, can't nobody get me in trouble no more.

Mr. Jones: Well I'm glad you said that son, but since you grown, don't bring your black ass back home.

Craig Jones: [beaten up Moly walks in Barbeque restaurant] Daaaamn!

Day-Day: [imitating Moly] Someone call 9-1-1

Mr. Jones: Moly... you got knocked the fuck out!

Moly: Oh, good observation, buddy.

[looks to Craig and Day-Day]

Moly: Where were you buddies, huh?

Craig Jones: We was on our lunch break.

Day-Day: Trying to get something to eat, so we can secure this nasty-ass lot.

Moly: Good, good, good... you were eating while I was getting beating.

Day-Day: Looks like somebody beat the bricks off your motherfucking ass.

Moly: You are supposed to be a security guard, buddy, no?

Day-Day: [pretending to be olivious] We are security, ain't that a bitch?

Craig Jones: We are security guards.

Craig Jones: About a year ago, my pops quit his dog-catching job and went into business with my uncle Elroy. They ran this spot called Brothers Barbecue. Taste so good, make you wanna slap yo' mama. You might have seen the commercial.

Uncle Elroy: Ya'll tired of eatin' that barbecue from up the street? Where they give you more sauce than they give you meat? Then bring your big ass down to Bros. Barbecue, 15837 South Crenshaw Boulevard, that's right off Manchester. Bros. Barbecue, tastes so good, make you wanna slap yo' mama! Don't it, Willie?

Mr. Jones: Yeah, boy! Hey, mama?

Grandma Jones: What the hell you want, Willie?

[Willie slaps her]

Uncle Elroy: Ain't but one location, so it's nearest you.

Craig Jones: You might have missed it. They only had enough money for a 15-second spot. Well, my pops hooked us up with a job as Christmas help security.

Mr. Jones: I look better than you!

Uncle Elroy: You don't!

Mr. Jones: I cook better than you!

Uncle Elroy: You can't!

Mr. Jones: My dick is bigger than yours!

Uncle Elroy: It was cold that night!

[repeated line]

Mr. Jones: Yeah, boy!

Mr. Jones: Have you seen our commercial?

Moly: No, buddy.

Mr. Jones: Bros. Barbecue taste so good, make you wanna slap yo mama!

[slaps Moly. Moly slaps him back. Willie slaps Moly again. Moly slaps back again]

Moly: Hey buddy.

Mr. Jones: Moly, what the fuck wrong with you?

Mr. Jones: [to Moly] Hope your camel got a ticket outside.

Mrs. Pearly: So how much do you really love your boy?

Mr. Jones: Not enough to pay his fucking rent. I have enough trouble paying my own damn rent.

Mr. Jones: Lotto stud. Lotto fuckin' stud.

Mr. Jones: Gimme a twister. Make it two. Hold the flies.

Mrs. Jones: [Mrs. Pearly has seduced Willie] Willie, get yo ass off that heifer!

Mr. Jones: Betty!

Craig Jones: Daddy, get yo ass off that heifer!

Mr. Jones: Think of this: last year around this time you'd won the lotto. Over a million dollars. Anybody else would be livin' in the French Riviera. You back here kickin' with me at Bros. Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-barbecue.

Mr. Jones: Elroy, don't you mess with this ba-ba-ba-barbecue business. I'm gon' keep a eye on you.

Uncle Elroy: I don't give a damn 'bout yo lazy eye, you Popeye lookin' son of a... No! I started this barbecue shit, and this is the motherfuckin' thanks I get?

Mr. Jones: What difference does it make whose bed it was.

Constable Slobotham: Might make a difference to someone.

Mr. Jones: I left the store open, I sold my car, all because of 42. Who gives a damn about anything else when you're wearing a 42?

Mr. Jones: I'm sorry. Maybe that day, you just weren't yourself.

Mona Gray: I don't think I've *ever* been myself.

Mr. Jones: Winky Dinky Dog - isn't that beautiful? C'mon, say it with me: Winky... Dinky... DOG! Oh, yes. Oh, oh oh...

Mr. Jones: The Winky Dinky Ho Cake... hoes gotta eat too.

Mr. Jones: Why do you always interrupt?

Ida: It's only because I want to be alone with you. Come 'ere and let me bite you, you darling man! Ruff!

Mr. Jones: Mr psychiatrist, are you there?

Pete: Go to hell you bastard you're mad!

Mr. Jones: What sort of reply is that from a National Health psychiatrist? I should have gone private.

Mr. Jones: You want me to leave, but why do you stay here?

The Japanese: I stay here, because I am a ninja warrior. The Ninja Kung-Fu... is the best!

[Jack confronts Mr. Jones]

Mr. Jones: Oho... you're here!

Jack Doe: That's right.

[indicates that he's ready to fight]

Jack Doe: Please!

Mr. Jones: Oho, Chinese Kung-Fu... have a go!

[they fight]

Ruxton Towers Reformatory governor: It was that new lad Smith who scored that goal, wasn't it?

Mr. Jones: Right sir.

Ruxton Towers Reformatory governor: He can run.

Mr. Jones: He's not bad sir.

Ruxton Towers Reformatory governor: He might be useful to us, we better keep an eye on him.

Mr. Jones: Why do only children have flying dreams?

Mr. Jones: [crying] I can't... I can't stop the sadness.

Mr. Jones: Give me this. This first day, I work for free.

Mr. Jones: I give it to you, its a gift. Second day, you pay me for two days.

Mr. Jones: Third day, I have your job.

Mr. Jones: I'd like to close my account, please.

Susan: You just opened this account last week.

Mr. Jones: Yeah, I'm a fickle kind of guy.

Susan: Oh, my goodness.

Susan: Okay, you have $12,752 in your account. Do you want that in hundreds?

Mr. Jones: I'll leave that up to your impeccable judgement.

Mr. Jones: I'm going to tell you something. Both of you listen, you might learn something. It is not a disease! Okay? Not a disease! I do not have a disease. This is who I am! I like who I am! You got it?

Mr. Jones: ...

Mr. Jones: The fact is, that the doctor and the other fine healers have decided that Im bipolar... and this is without regard to the fact that they have not one shred of evidence.

Mr. Jones: I need my highs.

Mr. Jones: Roxie, insolence is not an attractive quality in a woman.

Mr. Jones: Almost midnight. It's demon time!

Mr. Jones: Behold, your whore. And mine.

Mr. Jones: I knew a girl like you once. She had an act in a circus. Used to crack a whip and make lions jump through paper hoops.

Carolyn Grant: And you prefer the lipstick sort, huh?

Mr. Jones: Yes, mostly because I don't like jumping through paper hoops.