Moaning Myrtle: *I'm* Moaning Myrtle! I wouldn't expect you to know me! Who would ever talk about ugly, miserable, moping, Moaning Myrtle? AHHHHHHHHHH! [she lets out a piercing shriek and dive-bombs into one of the toilets, disappearing with a splash] Hermione: She's a little sensitive.
Jake: What about her? [indicating hunchback girl walking by] Austin: So baby's got a little back. Hunch, that is. Naah, way too easy. Jake: OK. [indicates hippy albino girl playing guitar] Albino Folk Singer: [singing] I have no pigment... Austin: Any girl with a guitar is hot. Albino Folk Singer: [continues singing] I need sunscreen... Austin: Granted, she's a hippy albino. She could still be prom queen. Jake: OK, uh, what about the Fratelli sisters? [indicates awkward Siamese twins conjoined at the head] Austin: So they're slightly disfigured and connected at the head. But combined, those two make up one pretty decent chick. Reggie Ray: Yeah, I'd do 'em. Austin: I know you would, Reggie Ray. But no, I'm looking for somebody who's really messed up. I'm talking about a real shitbomb. [Janie Briggs walks by] Austin: Well, bombs away! Jake: No, no, no, no, anyone but her! Not... Janie Briggs! Guys, she's got glasses and a ponytail! Aw, look at that, she's got paint on her overalls, what is that? Guys, there's no way she could be prom queen! Malik: Damn! That shit's whack!
[Jack is negotiating with President Nemerov over the Hot Line] Jack: Sir, I know you. I know you had nothing to do with the Baltimore bomb, and you sure as hell know you didn't! But you're still about to launch a nuclear strike against us! This no longer has anything to do with Baltimore! Now it's about fear! Our fear of your missiles, your fear of our subs, fear of being weak, fear of making a mistake... the same fear of the other guy that had us build these goddamn bombs in the first place!
Chuck: I still remember the war... Dave Buznik: Oh, yeah? Chuck: Yeah... Remember waking up to the sound of bombs dropping and children screaming... Dave Buznik: Oh, you were in Vietnam? Chuck: No... Grenada. Dave Buznik: Didn't that, like, last only 12 hours?
Snowbell: Cats don't eat raisins! We have too much class. We eat fish byproducts. Also, I... need to go tinky. Stuart Little: How about the alley? Snowbell: An alley? I'm a cat! We're fastidious creatures. We use a litter box. We don't just yell 'Bombs away' and go wherever we are!
Young African American male in Michigan: And I was watchin' TV one day, 'and they're showin' like some of the buildings and areas that had been hit by bombs and things like that, and while I watchin' I got to thinkin' like', "There's parts of Flint that look like that, and we ain't been in a war."
Lt. Col. Jimmy Doolittle: Secretary of the Navy gave me these. Danny: What are they? Lt. Col. Jimmy Doolittle: Friendship medals the Japanese gave us when they were pretending they wanted peace. Rafe: What do you want me to do with them sir? Lt. Col. Jimmy Doolittle: We're gonna wire them to the bombs and give them back.
Marco: [Arthur and Maurice explain that the First Mate has planted bombs aboard the ship, but Marco doesn't understand] He's a gardener? Arthur: What? Marco: Well, how many bulbs did he plant?
[Colt and Luger's car blows up] Colt: Good thing we took valet. Wes Luger: Taxi! [the taxi blows up] Colt: I guess we're making somebody nervous. But I'll tell you this: It's gonna take a helluva lot more than a couple of car bombs to get us off of this case. Wes Luger: Not a helluva lot more.
I used to think it was possible for an artist to alter the inner life of the culture. Now bomb-makers and gunmen have taken that territory.
Vic Deakins: I just realized something. I never actually killed anyone before. I mean, I dropped bombs on Baghdad, but, uh... never face to face. [pause] Vic Deakins: I don't know what the big deal is. I really don't.
Narrator: [singing a bomb drill ditty] Time to duck and cover, the bombs are comin' down. The radiation shower will pour throughout your town. Hands over your head; keep low to the ground. Time to duck and cover, the bombs are comin' down. Duck and cover. Duck and cover. Get under the desk with your sister and your brother. Duck and cover. Duck and cover. Hands over your head; keep low to the ground. And all the kids who don't will cease to be around.
No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun
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