Jack:
Hey, George... How does this relationship nonsense usually work?
George:
Usually, you go on a couple of dates, see if you like each other. Eventually you have sex.
Jack:
Right. I, uh... I sort of skipped the whole dating thing. So what then?
George:
And then, if you're happy with the action, you become boyfriend and girlfriend. It's really fun for, like, three months, and then you realize it's work. Then you dump her. Or not.
Jack:
Okay, let's say not.
George:
You move in together.
Jack:
I did that.
George:
Right. Well... Then you get married. You start your trajectory of acquisitions. Knives, forks, juicer, barbecue. You move to the 'burbs. You buy a house. You pop some kids out. You fight, you cheat, you separate, divorce, you split the shit, and see the kids on weekends. Then you start all over again.
Jack:
It all sounds so promising.
George:
It's just an outline, Jack.
Roberta Hertzel:
You already know how famously they get along as friends, but did you know that their sex life is positively white hot? The main reason both of my marriages failed was sexual. I'm an extremely sexual person, I can't help it, it just how I'm wired, you know, even when I was a little girl. I had my first orgasm when I was 6 in ballet class. Anyway, the point is that I have been always very easily aroused and very orgasmic, Jeannie and I have a lot in common that way. Clifford and Larry, they were nice guys, but they just could not keep up with me. Anyway, I don't want to betray Jeannie's confidence, but let me just assure you that whatever problems those two kids may run into along the way, they will always be able to count on what happens between the sheets to keep them together. More soup?
Warren Schmidt:
Eh... no, I think I'm fine now.
John McClane:
You know what you get for being a hero? Nothin'. You get shot at. You get a little pat on the back, blah, blah, blah, attaboy. You get divorced. Your wife can't remember your last name. Your kids don't want to talk to you. You get to eat a lot of meals by yourself. Trust me, kid, nobody wants to be that guy.
Matt Farrell:
Then why you doing this?
John McClane:
Because there's no body else to do it right now, that's why. Believe me, if there were somebody else to do it, I'd let them do it, but there's not. So we're doing it.
Matt Farrell:
Ah. That's what makes you that guy.
Tom:
[when Kate leaves] I have done it, she is gone! Now I can raise you children the way I want to! Mwa ha ha, ha ha, ha! [kids stare blankly]
Tom:
C'mon, Dad's in charge now, you can... eat candy for breakfast, sleep in, wear shoes in the house, it'll be great! [kids continue to stare blankly. Tom finally gives up]
Tom:
Yeah, I know, let's go inside.
Doyle Gipson:
I hope you don't mind, but I was intrigued by your conversation. I just thought you were in advertising. So I want to give you my dream version of a Tiger Woods commercial, okay? There's this black guy on a golf course. And all these people are trying to get him to caddy for them, but he's not a caddy. He's just a guy trying to play a round of golf. And these guys give him a five-dollar bill and tell him to go the clubhouse and get them cigarettes and beer. So, off he goes, home, to his wife and to their little son, who he teaches to play golf. You see all the other little boys playing hopscotch while little Tiger practices on the putting green. You see all the other kids eating ice cream while Tiger practices hitting long balls in the rain while his father shows him how. And we fade up, to Tiger, winning four Grand Slams in a row, and becoming the greatest golfer to ever pick up a 9-iron. And we end on his father in the crowd, on the sidelines, and Tiger giving him the trophies. All because of a father's determination that no fat white man - like your fathers, probably - would ever send his son to the clubhouse for cigarettes and beer.
RJ:
[showing the other animals around the houses] They *always* got food with them. We eat to live - these guys live to eat! Let me show you what I'm talking about!
RJ:
[as he speaks he shows the other animals what humans do] The human mouth is called a 'piehole', the human being is called a 'couch potato'.
RJ:
[signifies telephone] *That* is a device to summon food.
RJ:
[signifies doorbell] That is one of the many voices of food.
RJ:
[signifies front door] *That* is the portal for the passing of food.
RJ:
[signifies delivery truck] *That* is one of the many food transportation vehicles. Humans bring the food, take the food, ship the food, they drive food, they wear the food!
RJ:
[signifies microwave] *That* gets the food hot!
RJ:
[signifies refrigerator] *That* keeps the food cold!
RJ:
[signifies turtle pinata] *That*... I'm not sure what that is.
RJ:
[kids break the turtle piñata and Verne yells] Well, what do you know? FOOD!
RJ:
[signifies table where family prays before dinner] *That* is the altar where they WORSHIP food!
RJ:
[signifies advert for Seltzer] That's what they eat when they've eaten TOO MUCH food!
RJ:
[signifies treadmill] *That* gets rid of the guilt so they can eat MORE FOOD! FOOD! FOOD! FOOD! FOOD! FOOOOOD! So, you think they have enough?
RJ:
[everybody nods] Well, they don't. For humans, enough is *never* enough! And what do they do with the stuff they don't eat? They put it in gleaming silver cans, just for us!
RJ:
[opens the thrash cans and knocks them over] Dig in!
Dave, Ben's Literary Agent:
You're writing a book about your grandmother?
Ben:
Yeah, she was an extraordinary woman.
Dave, Ben's Literary Agent:
Oh, um, I'm sure she was. Did she fuck a president?
Ben:
No.
Dave, Ben's Literary Agent:
No. Did she discover uranium?
Ben:
No.
Dave, Ben's Literary Agent:
A cure for cancer?
Ben:
No.
Dave, Ben's Literary Agent:
Nothing like that?
Ben:
No.
Dave, Ben's Literary Agent:
Why, why would anybody wanna read a book about her?
Ben:
'Cause, Dave, she was four-foot-nine, she emigrated from Europe when she was a little girl, she worked in a sweatshop making buttonholes fourteen hours a day, and yet somehow managed to raise five kids and stay married to the same man for fifty-seven years. I'm telling you, Dave, this is gonna be the greatest love story ever told.
Dave, Ben's Literary Agent:
Let me explain something to you, not as your agent, this is as a friend. C'mere. [Dave leads Ben over to his office window]
Dave, Ben's Literary Agent:
C'mere. Alright, you see all these people out here, huh? You see they're getting into buildings, they're, they're driving in cars, they're crossing the street there, they're walking around. Every single one of these people is going to die someday, and they all know it, which is why they tend to regard the time that they have on this planet as precious. Now, there, there are a lot of things that take up a lot of that time, even if they don't enjoy it. They have to go to work, they have to get dressed, they have to wait in lines, they have to clean yards, they gotta get batteries, they have to, they have to visit the eye doctors, they're doing all these things. Now, add that to the time they spend sleeping, and eating, and, and, and, and washing up, and voting, and, and, and, and buying gifts for people they don't even like, and you can see why they're so choosy about how they spend whatever leisure time they do have. And you can understand why, unless she went down on somebody really interesting, why they're not going to waste their valuable time reading a book about your fucking grandmother.
Ben:
So, if I'm reading you right, you don't like the idea.
Dave, Ben's Literary Agent:
It's not that.
Jenkins:
[Voiceover] The Supermarket in Ellington, Connecticut was always a constant in my life. Unchanged from my first memories of the place as a little kid, from the front end to the back room, aisle seven to seafood, it was timeless, like the town it was built in. Lying below the Johnny Appleseed Orchards, and just across the street from the Kelly family's cornfields, the place always felt like it was simply a natural part of Ellington. The Supermarket was an important link in the town: it was where all the families got their food, where all the local kids worked, where all the farmers would come to cool off. But most of all it was a community, for the customers, for the long time employees, and especially for all of us. This was where we worked, where we hung out. It was like a smaller version of our town. And I guess I should tell you about the town, 'cause Ellington is pretty important to this story as well. Ellington, Connecticut was a town everyone always said had more cows than people, and even if they wouldn't admit it, it was somethin' they were proud of. It was one of the last of its kind, an old fashioned family farm town. I've lived in Ellington my whole life, and it seemed as though the town and the Supermarket always stayed the same. They stood the test of time, almost immortal. Or at least, that's what I had thought. Bus as usually happens in these stories unfortunately, that was all about to change...
Man:
Hmm. [lets go of Ted's face and pulls out some money]
Man:
One hundred, two hundred, three hundred. Here you are.
Ted the Bellhop:
I thought you said five hundred.
Man:
No, I said three hundred.
Ted the Bellhop:
No, sir. I distinctly heard you say five hundred.
Man:
Are you calling me a liar?
Ted the Bellhop:
No, sir. What I'm saying is that you accidentally forgot that the first thing you said...
Man:
But what I last said was three hundred, and what you say last is what counts.
Ted the Bellhop:
Well, then, if you say five hundred one last time, we have a deal.
Man:
You fucking with me, pendejo?
Ted the Bellhop:
No, sir, but I'm by myself, and looking after your kids is a pain in the ass I don't need.
Man:
[whispering] Are you calling my kids a pain in the ass?
Ted the Bellhop:
Why, no, sir, not the kids. It's the situation that is a pain in the ass.
Man:
No, you were right the first time. They're a pain in the ass. All right. You win, tough guy. Five hundred.
