[all praying to God]
Tracy Flick:
Dear Lord Jesus, I do not often speak with you and ask for things, but now, I really must insist that you help me win the election tomorrow because I deserve it and Paul Metzler doesn't, as you well know. I realize that it was your divine hand that disqualified Tammy Metzler and now I'm asking that you go that one last mile and make sure to put me in office where I belong so that I may carry out your will on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.
Tammy Metzler:
Dear God, I know I don't believe in you, but since I'll be starting catholic school soon, I though I should at least practice. Let's see. What do I want? I want Lisa to realize what a bitch she is and feel really bad and apologize for how she hurt me and know how much I still love her. In spite of everything, I still want Paul to win the election tomorrow, not that cunt Tracy. Oh, and I also want a really expensive pair of leather pants and someday, I wanna be really good friends with Madonna. Love, Tammy.
Paul Metzler:
Dear God, than you for all your blessings. You've given me so many things, like good health, nice parents, a nice truck, and what I'm told is a large penis, and I'm very grateful, but I sure am worried about Tammy. In my heart, I still can't believe she tore down my posters, but sometimes, she does get so weird and angry. Please help her be a happier person because she's so smart and sensitive and I love her so much. Also, I'm nervous about the election tomorrow and I guess I want to win and all, but I know that's totally up to you. You'll decide who the best person is and I'll accept it. And forgive me for my sins, whatever they may be. Amen.
Max Bialystock:
How did it begin? He walked into my office with his cockamamy scheme! You can make more money with a flop than with a hit! We can do it. We can do it. I can't do it. We can do it. I can't do it. Good-bye Max! Oh Lord I want that money! I'm back Max! Come on Leo we can do it! Step 1: Find the Play! See it, Smell it, Touch it, Kiss it! Hello Mr. Liebkind! Guten Tag, hop hop Guten Tag, clop clop! Adolf Elizabeth Hitler? Guten Tag, hop hop Guten Tag, clop clop! Step 2: Hire the Director Keep it gay, keep it gay, keep it Two-three, kick, turn, turn, turn, kick, turn! Ulla! Oooh wah weee wah wah wow wowie! Step 3: Raise the Money! Along Came Bialy! Step 4: Hire all the actors! A wandering minstrel I, A thing of shreds and... Next! The little wooden boy. Next! That's our Hitler! Break a leg! I broke my leg! Springtime for Hitler and Germany- A surprise smash! Springtime for Hitler and Germany- It'll run for years! Where did we go right? Where did we go right? Gimme those books Fat, fat, fatty! Gimme those books! Fat, fat, fatty! Books, fat! Books, fat! Books, fat! Books, fat! Lousy fruit- Kill the actors You ever eat with one? Then you ran to Rio And you're safely out of reach, I'm behind these bars you're banging Ulla on the beach! Just like Julius Caesar was betrayed by Brutus, Who'd think an accountant would turn out to be my Judas! I'm so dismayed, is this how I'm repaid? To be... Betrayed! BETRAYED!
Ben:
What a wild life you live, my friend.
Andrew:
Enh. You always have the option of doing what I'm doing, and I don't know that I so much have the option of doing what you're doing.
Ben:
Ah, it's easy. You just go to a grocery store, you find someone with long hair that's a girl, start kissing her, one thing leads to another. Then you buy her a ring, you get married, you buy a house. And soon enough you're converting your upstairs office into a potential baby room.
Andrew:
Are you fucking serious?
Ben:
Not yet, but we're on the path. We've officially removed the goalie, and now we're just doing free kicks.
[Dave Moss explodes at Ricky Roma and shouts]
Dave Moss:
You're fucked, Rick. Are you fucking nuts? You're hot, so you think you're the ruler of this place.
Shelley Levene:
Now wait a minute, Dave.
Dave Moss:
Shut up!
Shelley Levene:
Okay...
Dave Moss:
You want to decide who should be dealt with how, is that it? I come in the fucking office today, I get humiliated by some jag-off cop. I get accused of... I get the shit thrown in my face by you, you genuine shit, because you're top name on the board?
Ricky Roma:
Is that what I did, Dave? I humiliated you? Oh my God, I'm sorry.
Dave Moss:
Sitting on top of the world. Sitting on top of the world, everything's fuckin' peach fuzz.
Ricky Roma:
And I don't get a moment to spare for some bust-out humanitarian down on his luck lately?
Dave Moss:
Oh, fuck...
Ricky Roma:
[cutting him off] Fuck you, Dave. You know you got a big mouth. You make a close, this whole place stinks with your farts for a week - how much you just ingested. Oh, what a big man you are! "Hey, let me buy you a pack of gum. I'll show you how to chew it." Whoof! You're pal closes, and all that comes out of your mouth is bile. Ooh, how fucked-up you are!
Dave Moss:
Who's my pal, Ricky? Hmm? What are you? And what are you, Ricky? Huh? Bishop Sheen? What the fuck are you, Mr. Slick? Who - what the fuck are you, "Friend to the working man"? Big deal! FUCK YOU! You got the memory of a fuckin' fly! I never liked you, anyway.
Ricky Roma:
What is this, your farewell speech?
Dave Moss:
I'm going home.
Ricky Roma:
Your farewell to the troops?
Dave Moss:
I'm not going home. I'm going to Wisconsin.
Ricky Roma:
Have a good trip.
Dave Moss:
Aw, fuck you! Fuck the lot of you! Fuck you all! [exits]
Ricky Roma:
[to Shelley] You were saying?
Shelley Levene:
Huh?
Deputy Marshal Samuel Gerard:
Sheriff Rawlins, with all due respect, I'd like to suggest check points on a 15 mile radius out here on I-57, I-24 and on route 13 out of Chester...
Sheriff Rawlins:
Whoa, whoa, whoa. The prisoners are all dead and the only thing checkpoints are gonna do is get a lot of good people frantic around here and flood my office with calls.
Deputy Marshal Samuel Gerard:
[deadpan] Well, shit, sheriff, I'd hate to see that happen, so I guess I'll just take over your investigation.
Sheriff Rawlins:
[flustered] You? On what authority?
Deputy Marshal Samuel Gerard:
Governor of the state of Illinois, United States Marshals Office, 5th District Northern Illinois.
Mail Room Orienter:
You punch in at 8:30 every morning, except you punch in at 7:30 following a business holiday, unless it's a Monday, then you punch in at 8 o'clock. Punch in late and they dock you. Incoming articles get a voucher, outgoing articles provide a voucher. Move any article without a voucher and they dock you. Letter size a green voucher, oversize a yellow voucher, parcel size a maroon voucher. Wrong color voucher and they dock you! 6787049A/6. That is your employee number. It will not be repeated! Without your employee number you cannot get your paycheck. Inter-office mail is code 37, intra-office mail 37-3, outside mail is 3-37. Code it wrong and they dock you! This has been your orientation. Is there anything you do not understand, is there anything you understand only partially? If you have not been fully oriented, you must file a complaint with personnel. File a faulty complaint and they dock you! [spoken at about 160 words per minute]
Bony T:
Now check this out man, I've been working here about 9 days, you know, been on time most of the time, even when it rains. Don't you think it's about time we talk promotion?
Marcus Graham:
HAHAHA! [hearty laugh]
Bony T:
Marcus, come on man, I get my own office man, bring my hos in here, we have a little party, set this muthafucka off, man!
[Mother walks into the room and triggers the motion sensor]
Donald Crease:
This is what's in Cosmo's office. Best motion sensor on the market.
Mother:
And watch this. [he breathes in front of the sensor, and it goes off]
Donald Crease:
Also responds to thermal differentials.
Martin Bishop:
Does this have a happy ending?
Mother:
Oh, yeah. We can wrap you in a full-body suit of neoprene, heat-resistant rubber. Or we can raise the temperature in Cosmo's office to 98.6 degrees - which is probably what we'll have to do, because the neoprene would suffocate you. Either way, you've got a top speed of two inches per second. Any faster than that... [alarm beeps]
Mother:
and, uh, big guys with guns. But you'll probably do fine.
Martin Bishop:
Since when am I the one who's...
Mother:
This is the same model answering machine that Janek used for the shell of his box, now that's what you'll be carrying across the room at two inches per second. I got that for you because I figured you'd just, you know, want to practice. Remember to go real slow!
Martin Bishop:
Slow. [looks at Crease]
Donald Crease:
You get all the *fun* stuff...
Disabled Veteran:
Didja hear that Jimmy Nickles got picked up yesterday?
Jack Lucas:
Oh, yeah?
Disabled Veteran:
Yeah. He got caught pissin' on a bookstore. Man is a *pig*. No excuse for that. [lady drops coins in his cup]
Disabled Veteran:
Thank you, baby. It's social anarchy when people start pissing on bookstores. [man throws coins on the ground near his feet, which Disabled Veteran cannot reach]
Jack Lucas:
Asshole. He didn't even look at you.
Disabled Veteran:
He's payin' so he don't have to look. See... guy goes to work every day, eight hours a day, seven days a week. Gets his nuts so tight in a vice that he starts questioning the very fabric of his existence. Then one day, 'bout quitting time, Boss calls him into the office and says, "Hey Bob, whyncha come on in here and kiss my ass for me, will you?" Well, he says, "Hell with it. I don't care what happens, I just want to see the expression on his face as I jab this pair of scissors into his arm." [sighs]
Disabled Veteran:
Then he thinks of me. He says, "Waitaminit. I got both my arms, I got both my legs. At least I'm not begging for a living. Sure enough, Bob's gonna put those scissors down and pucker right up. See, I'm what you call kind of a "moral traffic light", really. I'm like sayin', "Red! Go no further! Boooo-ee boooo-ee boooo-ee..."
[White approaches Loew in the bathroom, after he refused to answer Exley's questions]
Ellis Loew:
Unless you came in here to wipe my ass, I believe we're through. [White looks at him, silently]
Ellis Loew:
Come on, don't try this "Good Cop-Bad Cop" crap on me. I practically invented it. So what if some homo actor is dead? Boys, girls, ten of them step off the bus to L.A. every day. [White proceeds to smash Loew's head into the mirror and then sticking it into the toilet]
Ellis Loew:
Pull him off me, Exley!
Ed Exley:
I don't know how.
Bud White:
Now, I know you think you're the A-number one hotshot. Well, here's the juice: if I take you out, there'll be ten more lawyers to take your place tomorrow. They just won't come on the bus, that's all! [White drags Loew into his office and dangles him out of the window by his legs until he confesses]
Ed Exley:
Was that how you used to run the "Good Cop-Bad Cop?"
