Mr.
Pink: Somebody's shoved a red-hot poker up our ass, and
I want to know whose name is on the handle!
Mr. Blonde: If you're talking like a bitch, I'm gonna slap
you like a bitch!
Mr. Blonde: Are you gonna bark all day, little doggy, or
are you gonna bite?
Mr. Blonde: Gee, that was really exciting. I bet you're
a big Lee Marvin fan, aren't you?
Mr. White: You shoot me in a dream, you'd better wake up
and apologize.
Mr. Blonde: All you can do is pray for a quick death, which
you aren't going to get.
Mr. White: The choice between doing ten years and taking
out some stupid motherfucker, ain't no choice at all. But
I ain't no madman.
Nice Guy Eddie: Okay, first things fuckin' last!
Nice Guy Eddie: We got places all over the place.
Joe Cabot: You don't need proof when you have instinct.
Mr. White: I'm hungry. Let's get a taco.
Mr. Blonde: I don't give a good fuck what you know or don't
know, I'm going to torture you anyway.
Mr. White: If you shoot this man, you die next. Repeat.
If you shoot this man, you die next.
Mr. Orange: This is a very weird situation. 'Cause I don't
know if you remember back in '86 there was a major fucking
drought. Nobody had anything. People were living on resin---smoking
the wood in their pipes for months. This chick had a bunch.
And she's begging me to sell it. So I told her I wasn't
going to be Joe the potman anymore, but I would take a little
bit and sell it to my close, close, close friends. She agreed
to that, said we'd keep the same arrangement as before;
10%, free pot for me, as long as I helped her out that weekend.
She had a brick of weed she was selling, she didn't want
to go to the buy alone. Her brother usually goes with her,
but he's in county unexpectedly. Mr. White: What for? Mr.
Orange: His traffic tickets. Got a warrant. They stopped
him for something, found warrants on him, took him to county.
Now she doesn't walk around alone with all that weed. I
don't want to do this. I have a very bad feeling about it.
But she keeps asking me, keeps asking me, keeps asking me,
finally I said OK 'cause I'm sick of hearing it. Now, we're
picking the guy up at the train station--- Nice Guy Eddie:
Wait a minute. You go to the train station to pick up the
buyer with the weed on you? Mr. Orange: The guy needed it
right away. Don't ask me why. Anyway, we're get to the station
and we're waiting for the guy. I'm carrying the weed in
one of those little carry-on bags. I got to take a piss.
So I tell the connection I'll be right back, I'm going to
the boys' room. So I walk in the mens' room, and who's standing
there? Four Los Angeles county sheriffs and a German shepherd.
Nice Guy Eddie: They're waiting for you? Mr. Orange: No,
they're just a bunch of cops hanging out in the men's room,
talking. When I walked through the door, they all stopped
what they were talking about and they looked at me. Mr.
White: [Laughs] That's hard, man. That's a fucking hard
situation. Mr. Orange: German shepherd starts barking. He's
barking at me. I mean, it's obvious. He's barking at me.
Every nerve-ending, all my senses, blood in my veins, everything
I have is screaming, "Take off, man! Just bail, just get
the fuck out of there!" Panic hits me like a bucket of water.
First there's the shock of it---BAM!---right in the face.
I'm standing there drenched in panic. All these sheriffs
looking at me, and they know, man. They can smell it. Sure
as that fucking dog can, they can smell it on me.
Joe: All right ramblers, let's get rambling!
[Mr. Pink comes and sees that Mr. Orange is shot in the
stomach] Mr. Pink: Is it bad? Mr. White: As opposed to good?
Mr. White: If you get a customer, or an employee, who thinks
he's Charles Bronson, take the butt of your gun and smash
their nose in.
Mr Brown: Mr. Brown? That sounds too much like Mr. Shit.
Joe Cabot: And you are Mr. Pink. Mr. Pink: Why am I Mr.
Pink? Joe Cabot: Cause you're a faggot, ok?
Mr.White: Hardy fuckin' har.
[Mr. White and Mr. Pink are washing up after the robbery
went sour, trying to figure out what happened] Mr. Pink:
You kill anybody? Mr. White: A few cops. Mr. Pink: No real
people? Mr. White: Just cops.
Nice Guy Eddie: Hey look daddy, he goes in a white man,
and comes out talking like a fucking nigger.
[Nice Guy Eddie asks if anyone knows what happened to Mr.
Blue] Mr. Blonde: Either he's alive or he's dead, or the
cops got him... or they don't.
[Mr. Pink doesn't believe in tipping waitresses automatically]
Mr. Blue: Our girl was nice. Mr. Pink: She was okay, but
she wasn't anything special. Mr. Blue: What's something
special? Take you out back and suck your dick? Nice Guy
Eddie: I'd go over twelve percent for that.
Mr. Pink: I've been here a long fucking time and she's only
refilled my coffee three times. I think she should be able
to refill my coffee at least six times. Nice Guy Eddie:
Excuse me, Mr. Pink, but I think the last fucking thing
you need is another cup of coffee.
[After hearing Orange's smuggling story.] Joe: Only one
thing to do in that case: shit in yer pants an' dive in
and swim!
Mr. Pink: He seems okay now, but he was crazy in the store.
Mr. White: This is what he was doing. [Mimics randomly shooting
innocent bystanders] Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Mr. Blonde: Yeah,
bam, bam, bam, bam, bam. I told 'em not to touch the alarm,
they touched it. If they hadn't done what I told 'em not
to do, they'd still be alive today. Mr. White: [clapping]
My fucking hero. Mr. Blonde: Thanks. Mr. White: That's your
excuse for going on a kill-crazy rampage? Mr. Blonde: I
don't like alarms, Mr. White.
