Mr. Smith Quotes in Shoot 'Em Up (2007)

Mr. Smith: [after a shootout with several men, and shooting out letters of a neon sign so that all that's left says "FUK U."] Fuck you, ya fucking fuckers.

[DQ has just had a quickie with a passing john to raise some quick cash]

DQ: To buy something for the baby.

Mr. Smith: Something for the baby?

[back in the pawnshop, she wraps Baby Oliver in a bulletproof vest]

DQ: A bulletproof vest is better than a crib.

Mr. Smith: I hate to think what you'd do to get him into the right school.

DQ: Who are you?

Mr. Smith: I'm a British nanny, and I'm dangerous.

DQ: You are the angriest man in the world!

Mr. Smith: If I remember right, you used to like it like that.

Mr. Smith: I hate it when parents hit their children.

Woman in Museum: Let go of my arm!

Mr. Smith: Not until you stop hitting your kid.

Woman in Museum: I will discipline my child as I see fit.

Mr. Smith: How would you like it if I spank you?

[Smith spanks the mother]

Mr. Smith: See? It doesn't feel so good, does it?

Mr. Smith: [after being propelled from his car into a van and shooting all occupants inside] So much for wearing your seatbelt.

Mr. Smith: [after killing several men while at the same time having sex with DQ] Talk about shooting your load.

Mr. Smith: I move my finger one inch to use my turn signal. Why are these assholes so lazy they can't move their finger one fucking measly inch to drive more safely? You wanna know why?

DQ: Not particularly.

Mr. Smith: Because these rich bastards have to be callous and inconsiderate in the first place to make all that money, so when they get on the road, they can't help themselves. They've gotta be callous and inconsiderate drivers too. It's in their nature.

Mr. Smith: You know what I really hate?

[Smith shoots Hertz in the the chest]

Mr. Smith: What I really hate, is a pussy with a gun in his hand.

[as DQ rants in Italian at Smith]

Mr. Smith: I don't understand a word you're going on about, but I know exactly what you're saying and I refuse to apologize.

Mr. Smith: [after ramming a carrot through the back of a killer's head] Eat your vegetables.

Mr. Smith: Do you know what I hate?

Baby's Mother: [in pain] No!

Mr. Smith: I hate these forty-year-old jack-holes wearing ponytails. That pony tail doesn't make you look hip, young, or cool.

[Smith shoots a ponytail henchmen in the head]

Mr. Hertz: Bravo, Mr. Hero. Bravo.

Mr. Smith: Why are you trying to kill this woman?

[Hertz laughs]

Mr. Smith: Something funny?

Mr. Hertz: Well, I was just remembering a limerick. "There once was a woman who was quite begat. She had three babies named Nat, Pat, and Tat. She said it was fun in the breeding, but found it was hell in the feeding, when she saw there was no tit for Tat." You have caused me no end of trouble, but now I shall return the favor. Tit for tat, right?

Mr. Smith: You want to know the difference between this luxury car and a porcupine?

DQ: I give up.

Mr. Smith: With the car, the prick's on the inside.

Mr. Smith: [after making Hammerson shoot himself] Aren't guns just fucking great, Hammerson?

Mr. Hertz: Oh, yes-siree-Bob, it certainly has been a pleasure. But before we part ways, tell me one thing: I am dead on about who you are, right?

Mr. Smith: Say that again?

Mr. Hertz: I said, I am dead...

Mr. Smith: [interrupting him] Stop. That part of it you got right.

Pawnshop Owner: You wanna buy bullets with food stamps?

Mr. Smith: [shrugging] It's just as good as cash.

Mr. Smith: [to presidential candidate Senator Rutledge] Let me give you a piece of advice. Never trust the people who stand to profit, plain and simple. They're the bad guys.

Mr. Hertz: [after telling Smith his gun is empty] And you won't be getting it up with that gun you took off my man. No, you see, like my weapon, it also has the thumbprint safety device!

Mr. Smith: Oh, really?

[holds up the thug's severed hand]

Mr. Smith: Wanna bet?

[Hertz grabs a shard of glass and charges, screaming. Smith fits the severed hand's thumb onto the pistol grip, and shoots Hertz in the chest]

Mr. Smith: Nothing like a good hand-job.

DQ: Why don't you take the baby to the police?

Mr. Smith: I can't go to the police.

DQ: Why not?

Mr. Smith: I'm the Unabomber.

DQ: They caught the Unabomber.

Mr. Smith: That's what they think.

[repeated line]

Mr. Smith: You know what I hate?

[last lines]

Mr. Smith: You know what I hate?

Diner Holdup Leader: [gives Smith the middle finger] Shut up and sit on this, asshole!

Diner Hood with Earring: That's right! You heard him...

[the Earring Hood advances on Smith with his gun. Smith kicks it into the air, catches it on the end of a carrot, and uses it to blow off the Leader's middle finger, the second hood's earring, and the third hood's disgustingly dirty foot]

Lone Man: You know we were never really trying to kill you. We only wanted to scare you into surrendering.

Mr. Smith: Well, that's one way to explain why you can't shoot straight.

Mr. Smith: Hey. Do you notice that?

DQ: Notice what?

Mr. Smith: Look.

[flicks channels on TV]

Mr. Smith: Lame-ass politician rants about gun control, he cries.

[flicks again]

Mr. Smith: Switch to this channel with this heavy metal music... he shuts up. That's so weird.

Mr. Smith: [lone man walks out of bathroom stall] What were you doing in there so long?

Lone Man: [rubbing rag on his .44 magnum] Cleaning my gun.

Mr. Smith: [raises eye-brow] Really?

DQ: [DQ is breastfeeding another man] Wait your turn, Smith, there's plenty to go around.

Mr. Smith: Not for me, thanks. I'm lactose intolerant.

Mr. Smith: This is an M-24 tank. You are safe from all gunfire and most explosives.

Mr. Smith: So what do you think of the 2nd Amendment now?

Coffee-Sipping Guard: Fuck you!

Mr. Smith: [after biting into a carrot and pointing a gun at Hertz] What's up, doc?

Mr. Hertz: Ooh, you're a wascally wabbit.

[points his gun at Smith]

Mr. Hertz: But you're not wascally enough.

Mr. Smith: Yeah? That's a six-shooter. I just counted six shots. You've blown your load.

Mr. Hertz: Hey, who trained you? Hmm? NSA, Black Ops, CIA, the Army? Well whoever, it's seems you haven't lost your aim, champ.

Mr. Smith: If you think that's good you should see me spell my name in the snow.

Mr. Hertz: [laughs] Hey you know my boss here thinks that you're the Lone Ranger or something. But I believe I have a better idea about who you are. I found out how your wife and son where killed. My god, what a tragedy. Some guy walks into a burger joint. He starts shooting up the place. Oh my god, what a shame that your wife and son were there, eating their chicken nuggets.

[Smith is silent in shock]

Mr. Hertz: What's the matter, you don't like that story? Well then why don't you tell me one, hmm? Children's story, please. Oh, I know, tell me my favorite. Yeah, tell me the one about the baby.

Mr. Smith: Maybe later, when I put you to sleep.

Mr. Smith: [after coming across a room full of semen samples] Watch where you step. The ice cream is melting.

DQ: What?

Mr. Smith: I thought donor sperm was your department.

Mr. Smith: Fuck you, ya fuckin' fuckers.

Mr. Smith: Have you ever held a gun before, Charlie?

Louis Booker: Don't answer that!

Charlie Carbone: No...

Mr. Smith: Ever killed a man, Charlie?

Louis Booker: Don't answer that!

Charlie Carbone: No.

Mr. Smith: What do you do for a livin' that makes you so brave, Charlie?

Louis Booker: *Really* don't answer that!

Charlie Carbone: [cocks the gun] I'm a hairdresser!

Jessie: What's going on?

Charlie Carbone: We're in a little bit of trouble.

Jessie: A little?

Mr. Smith: I've been following camel tracks all bloody morning, so lets make short work of this. Where's me moolah?

Jessie: For god sakes! All this over $4,000?

[Charlie chuckles nervously]

Jessie: It's more, isn't it? How much more?

Charlie Carbone: Forty-six thousand more.

Mr. Smith: And every cent of it is mine. Now there are only two ways we can do this, and one of them's a lot less painful than the other. Whare's the money?

Louis Booker: See, what happened was we put the money in the jacket and then the jacket on the...

Mr. Smith: Wrong answer! Your friend told us the yarn about the kangaroo. Mate, I've hope for your sake you were stupid enough to hide that money in them saddle bags.

Charlie Carbone: You gotta believe us!

Mr. Smith: [Sticks a knife at Charlie's throat] No, you gotta believe me. If it ain't there, I'm gonna carve you up piece by piece.

[Mr. Smith tells Mr. Watson a story about a man he loved]

Mr. Smith: There was this guy... Big guy, Irish-Italian. Red-faced, black-haired, jolly son of a bitch... Wait a second, nobody could make me laugh like him. He made a science of collecting jokes. We closed more bars together than I could count. Now, he was a pal. I loved the crazy mick. I'm not ashamed to say that, but... He was a fuck-up. He had this image of himself. He thought he was a con man. Always trying to shave the edge. He was nickel and dime. I'll always miss him. Tell me why.

Gene Watson: Tell you why, what?

Mr. Smith: Tell me why I miss him.

Gene Watson: He's dead?

Mr. Smith: That's right. He is dead, but tell me why.

Gene Watson: How do I know? I don't...

Mr. Smith: Tell me why he's dead.

Gene Watson: Because you killed him.

Mr. Smith: That's right, I did. I killed him. He fucked up one too many times. So, I put a bullet in his eye. Then, I put two more into him just to make sure. Now, that was somebody I loved; I loved him! But I got the call, and I put him down like a sick animal. So... if you got doubts... about what's going to happen if you don't deliver, let me tell you something. I'll make gravy out of your little girl just to season that Black Irish cocksucker's meat. Now, you do what you're supposed to do, young man. You do it now.

[Ms. Jones grabs Mr. Watson's daughter and starts walking away with her]

Gene Watson: Ma'am! I'll take my daughter.

Mr. Smith: Don't worry. My partner's good with kids.

[Mr. Smith tells Mr. Watson his mission to kill the woman in the picture]

Mr. Smith: You're out of your mind.

Mr. Smith: What's your point?

[Ms. Jones points out to Mr. Smith an old couple to kidnap]

Ms. Jones: [Ms. Jones points to an arguing couple] That one... right there?

Mr. Smith: No. Hates his wife.

[Ms. Jones points out to Mr. Smith a few more different couples to kidnap]

Ms. Jones: What about them... right there?

Mr. Smith: Too old.

Ms. Jones: Oh. Them?

Mr. Smith: You ever had an idea, it would die of malnutrition. Leave it to me. I know people. It's my job... People person.

[Mr. Smith sees Mr. Watson and his little girl as the perfect pair to kidnap]

Mr. Smith: [in a low voice] Perfect.

Ms. Jones: Perfect.

[Mr. Watson and his little girl sit in the van with Mr. Smith and Ms. Jones]

Lynn Watson: I want my daddy!

Ms. Jones: Well, your daddy's right there.

Gene Watson: [Mr. Watson from the passenger seat] Daddy's right here, honey. Daddy's here.

Ms. Jones: We're your daddy's friends.

Mr. Smith: [Mr. Smith from the driver seat] That's right. Policeman's your friend. Isn't that right, daddy? Daddy?

Gene Watson: That's right, honey. The police are our friends.

[Mr. Smith threatens Mr. Watson by hitting his pistol in his leg]

Mr. Smith: Mr. Watson, you're not paying attention. Your daughter's life depends on you. Do you understand?

Gene Watson: [Mr. Smith hits his pistol in Mr. Watson's leg again] Ahh!

Mr. Smith: Do you understand that?

[Mr. Smith tells Mr. Watson the deadline he has to kill the woman in the picture]

Mr. Smith: It's now 12:16. If the woman in the picture's alive at 1:30, half past 1:00... I call my partner. Your daughter's dead. What happens if I don't call you?

Ms. Jones: Kill her anyways.

Mr. Smith: You hear that, Mr. Watson? Do you understand? It's the woman in the picture or your daughter.

Gene Watson: God.

Mr. Smith: God can't help you Mr. Watson, only you.

[Mr. Smith yells at Mr. Watson to say at 1:30 his little girl is dead]

Mr. Smith: Look at your watch. Look at it! At 1:30, your little girl is dead. Say it with me. 'At 1:30, my little girl is dead.' Say it! Say it! Name it!

Gene Watson: At 1:30, my little girl is dead.

Mr. Smith: Unless you do what you're told. You go do it.

[Mr. Smith pushes Mr. Watson along to start walking]

Mr. Smith: Don't forget! I'll be watching you!

[Mr. Watson asks Mr. Smith who is he]

Gene Watson: Who are you?

Mr. Smith: [Mr. Smith whispers in his ear] I'm the guy who'll kill your daughter if you don't get moving.

[Mr. Smith yells at Mr. Watson when he has a chance to shoot the Governor in the elevator]

Mr. Smith: She was right in front of you! What is wrong with you?

Mr. Smith: [Mr. Smith punches Mr. Watson in the stomach] Are you fucking with me? Are you fucking with me?

[Mr. Smith loads Mr. Watson's gun for him]

Mr. Smith: All right. It's loaded. It's ready for the hunt. So are we.

[Mr. Smith stops Mr. Watson from going to a police officer]

Mr. Smith: I know what you're thinking. You're like a worm on a hook, wiggling around, thinking you might get off.

Gene Watson: What would you do?

Mr. Smith: She'd be dead. Do what you're supposed to do, young man! You do it now!

[Officer Trust asks Mr. Smith if he's got the situation under control]

Officer Trust: You got this under control, Smitty?

Mr. Smith: Yeah.

Officer Trust: Sure doesn't look like it.

Mr. Smith: It's under control.

Officer Trust: Yeah. Well, it better be, because I'm running out of these.

[Officer Trust gives Mr. Smith a new walkie-talkie]

[Mr. Watson throws away Mr. Smith's walkie-talkie]

Mr. Smith: I ought to throw you after that walkie-talkie, but I'm going to give you a break, because you're an amateur.

[Mr. Watson and Ms. Brooks hand over their only gun to the Mystery Man]

Mystery Man: Is it real? I mean, do we know anything about it?

Krista Brooks: It looks real. I don't know anything about guns.

Mystery Man: May I see it?

Gene Watson: The gun is real.

Mystery Man: [the mystery man scoffs] Well, it certainly looks real.

Mystery Man: [as the mystery man looks over to the corner of the room] May we have your opinion?

Mystery Man: [the mystery man then hands over the gun to Mr. Smith] You're supposed to be the expert in these matters.

Mr. Smith: [Mr. Smith checks the gun, grabs a pillow, and shoots Ms. Brooks dead] Yeah. I'd say it's real.

[Mr. Watson sees Mr. Smith in a dream sequence after shooting him dead]

Gene Watson: I killed you.

Mr. Smith: You fucked up.

[Mr. Smith blames Mr. Watson for the death of Ms. Brooks]

Mr. Smith: [as they stand over the dead body] Look at her. That's what it looks like. She was alive a minute ago, and now she's dead because you wouldn't do what I told you to do.

[Mr. Smith stands over Mr. Watson's body in the elevator when a couple try to walk in]

Mr. Smith: Security force. Take the next car. Thank you.

[Officer Trust notices that Mr. Smith loses Mr. Watson again]

Officer Trust: Where is he? Did you lose him?

Mr. Smith: [in a low voice] Shut up.

[Mr. Smith fights with Mr. Watson and slams him against a concrete wall]

Mr. Smith: Fuck with me, huh? Huh?

[Mr. Watson fires his gun at the back of Mr. Smith]

Mr. Smith: Very good, Mr. Watson. I told them, I can make a killer out of you.

[as Mr. Watson fires his gun at Mr. Smith]

Mr. Smith: Suffice to say, to the people he hunted for us, he was known as the Glimmer Man. There'd be nothing but jungle, then a glimmer... Then you'd be dead!

Mr. Smith: He's selling it to a bunch of Serbian freedom fighters.

Jim Campbell: You mean terrorists.

Mr. Smith: Semantics. You say tomato...

Jim Campbell: No, motherfucker, I didn't say tomato, I said terrorists.

Mr. Smith: [Having been shot in the foot, and then his left hand, Cole holds the gun up to his right hand] Jack! Now, Jack-Jack... I-I need that hand, Jack, I need that hand, Jack!

Jack Cole: You know I will. Right about n...

Mr. Smith: Alright! Alright! Game over!

[a beat]

Mr. Smith: God, I've missed you, Jack! So many young men today just won't go that extra mile.

Mr. Smith: [as Cole and Campbell are leaving] Gentlemen, leave us not forget that matter of the ambulance.

Jack Cole: I only shot you in one foot. Hobble to a hospital!

Mr. Smith: [Cole has deftly shot and wounded Smith, while trying to obtain information that can clear Jack of several recent murders] You're a fucking' psycho! Campbell, *you're* still a cop! Aren't you going to help?

Jim Campbell: Okay...

[pulls a gun on Smith]

Jim Campbell: But I'm a really bad shot.

[Cole stops him]

Jim Campbell: Just trying to help you, Jack.

Jack Thornton: Look here, Smith. Why can't we do business?

Mr. Smith: I've always been open to an honest proposition, Mr. Thornton.

Jack Thornton: We'll give you the claim - all of it. You can have what gold we've got. But leave us some way of getting out of here. The winter snows are coming on.

Mr. Smith: [impatiently] My dear man, you call that a business proposition? We already *have* the mine, and the gold is ours by right of, how shall I put it?... By right of conquest. Do you mind if we don't argue the point any more?

Mr. Smith: Once in a while people do laugh at me. But very briefly.

Mr. Smith: Kindness. That will kill you here.

Mr. Smith: In the camps, some saw death as freedom.

Janusz: Then why didn't you just kill yourself?

Mr. Smith: Survival was a kind of protest. Being alive was my punishment.

Janusz: Punishment for what?

Mr. Smith: I brought David to Russia.

Janusz: And now no one can forgive you. And you can't forgive yourself...

Mr. Smith: You should be grateful we are here at all.

Valka: Grateful is for dogs.

Mr. Smith: Kindness. That can kill you here.

Bernie LaPlante: [crawling through the burning plane attempting to find a man] Fletcher! Hey Fletcher! Where are you?

Mr. Smith: Sir, please help me!

Bernie LaPlante: [noticing this man caught in the seats] Are you Fletcher?

Mr. Smith: No, my name is Smith.

Bernie LaPlante: Well fuck you! Where's Fletcher?

Mr. Smith: Ain't no point in y'all arguing, you're all gonna die.

Mr. Earl Brooks: How did you find me, Mr. Smith?

Mr. Smith: You're "Man of the Year", Mr. Brooks.

[Smith starts clapping]

Mr. Smith: Your picture's in the paper. And if it hadn't had been, I don't know. I don't know what I would've done.

Mr. Earl Brooks: Lucky me. What is it that I can help you with?

Mr. Smith: I've been watching that couple for months. Yeah, they like to make love with the blinds open. Sometimes I would take pictures; visual aids for later. It's a great way to get off, I'll tell you that. It was fun, I thought, until I saw you kill them. And I have never, ever, felt a... a... rush that like, ever. I know you're the Thumbprint Killer. You've done this before. What I want... is for you, to take me with you next time you kill someone. And I'd like that to be soon.

[Marshall laughs out loud]

Marshall: [sarcastically] And you were worried that this was going to be unpleasant? The answer is simple. Just tell Mr. Smith that you decided never to kill again, and he'll go away.

Mr. Earl Brooks: You enjoy watching me suffer, don't you?

Marshall: In a word, yes.

Mr. Earl Brooks: Where do you think he has the other pictures?

Marshall: He put them in a safety deposit box. But I'll bet the box is at the bank where he keeps his checking account. The key... is on his key chain! He really wants to do this. He's not going to the cops.

Mr. Earl Brooks: Would it bother you to kill a woman?

Mr. Smith: No. No, an asshole's an asshole.

Mr. Smith: What are we doing here, tonight?

Mr. Earl Brooks: We drive around until we see someone we think we might enjoy killing...

Mr. Smith: Can it be somebody that I know?

Mr. Earl Brooks: [laughs] No. You never kill someone you know. It's the easiest way to get caught.

Mr. Smith: [about Mr. Brooks' first kill] What was your first time like?

Mr. Earl Brooks: You really don't want to know that much about me Mr. Smith.

Mr. Smith: [to Mrs. Smith] I remember legs like other people remember faces. I can't help it.

Mr. Smith: [pointing out the window to the lunch wagon] And is that part of your business?

Oliver: Part of it? Why, that's *all* of it.

Mr. Smith: [laughs uproariously] To lend you money on that, I'd have to be unconscious!