Jimmer Negamanee:
Shay, Reubensh.
Rueben Soady:
Yea?
Jimmer Negamanee:
Shince you ain't sherving shashties, I'd sure shike shome of those sherman shlapjakcs. [laughs]
Jimmer Negamanee:
I could eat shlapjacks every day of the weeksh, eh.
Rueben Soady:
Oh, I know you could, Jimmer.
Remnar Soady:
No, not flapjacks.
Jimmer Negamanee:
Ya'll don't like the shlapjacks?
Remnar Soady:
Macaroni and cheese, tank you very much.
Albert Soady:
With spam.
Remnar Soady:
With spam.
Jimmer Negamanee:
How'sh about shlapjacks with spam?
Rueben Soady:
Uh, fellas.
Albert Soady:
J-just spam for me.
Remnar Soady:
Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.
Rueben Soady:
No flapjacks, no macaroni and cheese, and no spam.
Albert Soady:
No spam?
Rueben Soady:
Boys you are not only going to eat like kings, but that 2o bucks you was going to throw into the kiddie for pasties, keep it. I am about to feed the whole camp for all week for absolutely free.
Bob Munro:
Yo, my mobile-homeboys, what's trippin' in the wood?
Hip Hop Wannabe:
This termite belong to you?
Bob Munro:
Yo, my man said...
Carl Munro:
[gets mad] Don't call him...
Bob Munro:
[restraints Carl] Easy! This my man C, he small but ferocious, but you dogs, you hardcore, where you from?
Hip Hop Wannabe:
Scottsdale!
Bob Munro:
Scottsdale! In the zoner, ya'll that's a hardcore hood, but you want take on my man C here, go ahead because you know, he's fierce, he gonna come up in your face he gonna major damage you, you gonna walk away maybe limp but I say talk to the hand, call waiting, 'cause he's out, boy is ou... I can't restrains him 'cause I'm conversatin' you right now to give him a chance to cool down, to get back to a realistic level, as it were because we could be chillin' in our crib, not just on this mobile home thing, representing Malibu, and Westwood, you know. Mallin' it like we all can, boys to mensh, pimp my Mercedes, call me back, put you on hold, you know what I'm sayin'?
Hip Hop Wannabe:
Er... we gotta go. [leaves]
Bob Munro:
Mm-hmm, you better, man, don't make me call my lawyer, 'cause I'll audit!
Ray Pinker:
Bud White - what brings *you* to the basement?
Bud White:
I got a couple Nite Owl questions.
Ray Pinker:
I don't know if you'd read the papers, but that case is closed.
Bud White:
Is there anything bothering you about it, Ray?
Ray Pinker:
Yeah, the fact that the pack-up boys haven't carted this shit out of here yet. [Bud sees all the boxes of case files, and starts to look through the crime scene photos]
Ray Pinker:
I got three shotguns, taken from the suspects, that match the strike marks on the shells from the Nite Owl. What more do you want?
Bud White:
[suddenly spotting a detail in a photo] There's blood on the wall here. I thought everybody but the cook got shot in the men's room?
Ray Pinker:
That is Stensland's blood.
Bud White:
Stensland?
Ray Pinker:
He took a blow to the head. Was probably unconscious when they dragged him in the john.
Bud White:
Did they hit anybody else?
Ray Pinker:
No. But he was a cop, he probably tried to "do something."
Bud White:
[remembering that Stensland said he had a date that night, he studies a photo showing a table with two settings, including a coffee mug smudged with lipstick] Grilled cheese, black coffee... two of the victims were women, right?
Ray Pinker:
Yeah - Patti DeLuca, the night-shift waitress, and a Susan Lefferts.
Bud White:
Susan Lefferts...
Ray Pinker:
Yeah, what about her? [Bud runs out of the room]
Ray Pinker:
You're welcome!
Wyatt Earp:
All right, Clanton... you called down the thunder, well now you've got it! You see that? [pulls open his coat, revealing a badge]
Wyatt Earp:
It says United States Marshal!
Ike Clanton:
[terrified, pleading] Wyatt, please, I...
Wyatt Earp:
[referring to Stilwell, laying dead] Take a good look at him, Ike... 'cause that's how you're gonna end up! [shoves Ike down roughly with his boot]
Wyatt Earp:
The Cowboys are finished, you understand? I see a red sash, I kill the man wearin' it! [lets Ike up to run for his life]
Wyatt Earp:
So run, you cur... RUN! Tell all the other curs the law's comin'! [shouts]
Wyatt Earp:
You tell 'em I'M coming... and hell's coming with me, you hear?... [louder]
Wyatt Earp:
Hell's coming with me!
Bill:
My litle girl is 16. She's at that age where she's in her room listening to her stereo, online with her friends, and boys are starting to call. Oh, my God. We had a kid call the house at 2 in the morning. I lost it. First off, I'm sound asleep in la-la land with Shania Twain in the mountains somewhere. I hear a phone ring and I'm like, "Who's got a phone in the mountains?" So when I realized it's my phone, I'm already ticked off. I went, "Hello!" And this little voice goes, "Is Emily there?" And I go, "Dude, if you have a brain in your skull you will hang up this phone up right now!" And my wife goes, "Bill, you gotta be nice." I said, "No, ma'am, nice stops at midnight." She said, "What will you do when these little boys come over?" I said, "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm gonna pull the young man in tight next to me so only he and I can hear the conversation. I'm gonna whisper in his ear. I'm gonna say, "Boy, look at me. You see that little girl there? That's my only little girl. She's my life. So if you have any thought about hugging or kissing, you remember these words: I got no problem going back to prison."
Wilbur:
[at the science fair after Lewis puts his memory scanner on the table] [Wilbur pops out from underneath the sheet covering the memory scanner]
Wilbur:
This area is not secure, get in. [pulls Lewis under the sheet]
Wilbur:
Have you been approached a tall man in a bowler hat?
Lewis:
What?
Wilbur:
Hey, hey, I'll ask the questions here.
Lewis:
Okay... goodbye. [starts to leave but Wilbur drags him back in]
Wilbur:
Okay, I didn't want to pull rank on you but you forced my hand. Special agent Wilbur Robinson of the T.C.T.F.
Lewis:
What?
Wilbur:
Time continuum task force. I'm here to protect you. [Lewis tries to say something but Wilbur covers his mouth]
Wilbur:
Now, tall man? Bowler hat? Approached you?
Lewis:
No, why?
Wilbur:
[Wilbur sighs and shakes his head] I could lose my badge for this, he's a suspect in a robbery.
Lewis:
What did he steal?
Wilbur:
A time machine.
Lewis:
A what?
Wilbur:
I tracked him to this time and my informants say he's after you.
Lewis:
Me? Why me?
Wilbur:
The boys back at HQ haven't figured out a motive yet. [uses air quotes]
Wilbur:
And by "HQ" I mean headquarters.
Lewis:
I know what HQ means!
Wilbur:
Good, you're a smart kid, that'll keep you alive... for now. [pats Lewis's memory scanner]
Wilbur:
You just take care of your science gizmo and leave the perp to me. [leaves but instantly]
Wilbur:
[pops back under the sheet] And by perp, I mean perp...
Lewis:
I know what it means!
Wilbur:
Okay, Mr. Smartypants. [leaves the sheet]
Daniel:
[as Mr. Rogers] Hello boys and girls, today we're going to talk about dinosaurs. It's a dinosaurs line! [sings fanfair]
Daniel:
And now ladies and gentlemen, the King. [hums tune and imitates Elvis with a T-Rex]
Daniel:
Hey thank you, I'm going to make you lunch, thank you. Okay now put your claws together for James Brontosaurus! Pum pum pum, I eat wood, dada dada dada, it tastes good, dad dada no meat, big feat, I eat wood, pum pum pum! Oh I can't go on, can't go on! Now it's time for the Raptor rap. Yo I'm a Raptor doing what I can gonna eat everything till the appereance of man. Yo yo yo, see me, I'm living bellow the soil, I'll be back but I'm coming as oil!
Mr. Blonde:
Listen, I appreciate what, you guys are doin' for me, but I was wonderin' when I can come back and, you know, do some real work.
Joe:
Well, that's hard to say, It's kind of a strange time now. Things are a little...
Nice Guy Eddie:
They're a little fucked-up is what they are. Listen we got a big meetin' goin' down in Vegas right now.
Joe:
Just let Eddie for now set you up in Long Beach, get you some cash, Get this Scagnetti fuck off your back, and then we can start talkin' okay? Huh?
Nice Guy Eddie:
Listen daddy, I got an idea. Now just, hear me out. Now, I know you don't like usin' the boys on jobs like these, but Vic has been nothin' but good luck for us. The guy's a fuckin' rabbits foot for cryin' out loud. I'd like to have him in. You know he's reliable and you damn well know trust him.
Joe:
[pause] How would you feel about pulling off a job with about five other guys?
Mr. Blonde:
I'd feel great about it.
Bertier:
[sees Sunshine get out of car with long hair] Hey fellas! Look at that fruit cake!
Coach Yoast:
Gerry, just keep your mouth shut and get back on that field!
Colonel William G. Bass:
Coach Boone, I'm Colonol Bass. We just got transfered here from Huntington Beach, California, this is my son, Ronnie, he's a quarterback.
Coach Boone:
[shakes Sunshine's hand] How you doin' Ronnie?
Colonel William G. Bass:
Coach Yoast.
Coach Yoast:
[shakes Sunshine's hand as well] My Pleasure.
Coach Boone:
We're pretty set at the, uh, quarterback colonel. But if they boy's any good, you might want to check out Wilson or Hamilton.
Colonel William G. Bass:
Well, I met Coach Taber. He won't let blacks play on his team. The way I see it, if these boys can fight a war together, they can play football together. Now, he's a pretty good runner.
Ronnie "Sunshine" Bass:
[chucks football towards Gerry, who is decently far away]
Bertier:
[spins around, angry, as football hits him square in the back]
Big Ju:
[laughing hysterically] Yeah, a Fruitcake, huh?
Niko's Golf Game:
[Niko hits a golf ball, it lands in a virtual reality golf game screen] 198 yards.
Niko:
[turns to see that Dorian has arrived] Hello, Dorian. Thanks for dropping by.
Dorian Tyrell:
Well, next time why don't you call, alright? Leave these delivery boys at home. [Niko grins at the thugs evilly, they force Dorian to ground, and one of them laughs as the other places a wooden tee in Dorian's mouth. He spits the tee out. One of them takes a gun out and holds it to Dorian's head, the other looks at Niko who nods, then places another tee in Dorian's mouth and puts a golf ball on it]
Niko:
[swings club slowly] The cops, ah... tried to shut the club down this morning. They say you've been running the place to make your own small-time scams. I hear things like that, and I start losing my concentration. And my game, it goes straight to HELL! [pulls the club back for swing]
Niko:
You could, too. [swings and hits the ball]
Dorian Tyrell:
Oh, ow!
Niko's Golf Game:
205 yards.
Niko:
I'm fed up with you, Dorian. But I'm gonna cut you a break. One week to get out of town. [brushing Dorian's cheek with the club]
Niko:
After that, I'll use your empty little skull to break in my new 9-iron. [smacks the club away from his face, lifts Dorian up roughly and escorts him out of office]
