Alonzo Harris:
You okay, kid? That was a man-sized hit you took, dog. When was the last time you smoked weed?
Jake Hoyt:
Last time I smoked weed... 12th grade. We were... we were...
Alonzo Harris:
Smoking weed.
Jake Hoyt:
Yeah, yeah.
Alonzo Harris:
Left that out your service jacket. Yeah, I know you got secrets. Everybody got secrets. Didn't know you liked to get wet, dog.
Jake Hoyt:
What's "wet"?
Alonzo Harris:
Butt-naked. Ill. Sherms. Dust. PCP. Primos. P-Dog. That's what you had. That's what you were smoking, you couldn't taste it?
Jake Hoyt:
No, I've never done it.
Alonzo Harris:
You have now. I haven't, but you have.
Jake Hoyt:
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Man, I'm gonna get piss-tested, and then I'm gonna get fired!
Alonzo Harris:
Lieutenant's got our back. We know a week before we piss.
Jake Hoyt:
Oh, shit. *Shit*!
Alonzo Harris:
*Boom*!
Jake Hoyt:
Why did you do this to me?
Alonzo Harris:
Nobody told you to smoke that thing. You made the decision. Live with your decision. Ain't like I put a gun to your head.
Reese Bobby:
[walks into the classroom] Excuse me, darling. I'm Reese Bobby. I'm here for career day with my son, Ricky.
10-year-old Ricky:
Dad!
Reese Bobby:
Hey there, boy! Man, you got big. How long's it been? Three, four months?
10-year-old Ricky:
Ten years.
Reese Bobby:
Ten years? Man, I gotta lay off the peyote. [puts a cigarette in his mouth]
Schoolteacher:
Mr. Bobby, there's no smoking in here.
Reese Bobby:
Oh, it's all right, darling, I'm a volunteer fireman. Okay, I am a semi-professional racecar driver and an amateur tattoo artist.
Classmates:
OOO0HHHH!
Reese Bobby:
And the first thing you gotta learn if you're gonna be a racecar driver, is that you don't listen to losers like your know-it-all teacher here.
Schoolteacher:
Okay, I think that's enough.
Reese Bobby:
Your teacher wants you to go slow, and she's wrong because it's the fastest who get paid and it's the fastest who get laid. [classmates all cheer]
Larry:
Hey, listen to this. The other day I was driving down the highway, had the air-conditioner on, smoking my stogies, listening to some tunes, and this big fat crow lands on a billboard. Biggest, fattest crow I ever saw in my life. And I fix on him, and he dropped dead - boom, in the sand. Damndest thing I ever saw. Kind of made me sick. In fact, it made me poop. It made me poop my pants. It was about a four-inch, bell-shaped fece, very hard, very firm. Things haven't been going too good for me.
[after Dewey accidentally barges in a room filled with smoke and groupies]
Sam:
[coughs] Get outta here, Dewey!
Dewey Cox:
What are y'all doin' in here?
Sam:
We're smoking reefer and you don't want no part of this shit.
Dewey Cox:
You're smoking *reefers*?
Sam:
Yeah, 'course we are; can't you smell it?
Dewey Cox:
No, Sam. I can't.
Reefer Girl:
Come on, Dewey! Join the party! [takes a hit off a joint]
Sam:
No, Dewey, you don't want this. Get outta here!
Dewey Cox:
You know what, I don't want no hangover. I can't get no hangover.
Sam:
It doesn't give you a hangover!
Dewey Cox:
Wha-I get addicted to it or something?
Sam:
It's not habit-forming!
Dewey Cox:
Oh, okay... well, I don't know... I don't want to overdose on it.
Sam:
You can't OD on it!
Dewey Cox:
It's not gonna make me wanna have sex, is it?
Sam:
It makes sex even better!
Dewey Cox:
Sounds kind of expensive.
Sam:
It's the cheapest drug there is.
Dewey Cox:
[at a loss and out of excuses] Hmm.
Sam:
You don't want it!
Dewey Cox:
I think I kinda want it.
Sam:
Okay, but just this once. Come on in.
