Mr. Pink: I don't wanna kill anybody. But if I gotta get out that door, and
you're standing in my way, one way or the other, you're gettin' outta my way.
Mr. Pink: You even doubt it? I don't THINK we got set up, I KNOW we got set up!
I mean, really, seriously, where did all those cops come from, huh? One minute
they're not there, the next minute they're there. I didn't hear any sirens. The
alarm went off, okay. Okay, when an alarm goes off, you got an average of four
minutes response time. Unless a patrol car is cruising that street, at that
particular moment, you got four minutes before they can realistically respond.
In one minute there were seventeen blue boys out there. All loaded for bear, all
knowing exactly what the fuck they were doing, and they were all just there!
Remember that second wave that showed up in the cars? Those were the ones
responding to the alarm, but those other motherfuckers were already there, they
were waiting for us.
[The shot Mr. Orange knows some things about Mr. White]
Mr. White: Well, he knows a little about me.
Mr. Pink: You didn't tell him your name, did you?
Mr. White: I told him my first name, and where I'm from.
Mr. Pink: Why?!
Mr. White: I told him where I was from a few days ago. It was just a casual
Mr. Pink: And what was tellin' him your name when you weren't supposed to?
Mr. White: He asked.
Mr. White: We had just gotten away from the cops. He just got shot. It was my
fuckin' fault he got shot. He's a fuckin' bloody mess - he's screaming. I swear
to god, I thought he was gonna die right then and there. I'm tryin' to comfort
him, tellin' him not to worry, he's gonna be okay, I'm gonna take care of him.
And he asked me what my name was. I mean, the man was dyin' in my arms. What the
fuck was I supposed to tell him? "Sorry, I can't give out that information!
It's against the rules! I don't trust you enough!"
Joe: Cough up a buck you cheap bastard.
Mr. Pink: I wanna find out who the bad guy is.
[Mr. Blonde has cut off Marvin's ear and begins talking into it.]
Mr. Blonde: Hey, Can you hear that?
Nice Guy Eddie: If you fucking beat this prick long enough, he'll tell you he
started the goddamn Chicago fire, now that don't necessarily make it fucking so!
Mr. White: What, did you forget your French fries, to go with the soda?
Mr. White: Fuck you Maniac!
Mr. Pink: Where's the commode in this dungeon? I gotta take a squirt.
Nice Guy Eddie: Larry, stop pointin' that fuckin' gun at my Dad!
Joe: Give me that book.
Mr. White: Are you gonna put it away?
Joe: I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want with it.
Mr. Blonde: Have some fire, Scarecrow.
Mr. Pink: Look man, I know what I'm talking about, and black women ain't the
same as white women.
Mr. White: There's a slight difference.
Mr. Pink: Why can't we choose our own names?
Joe: No, I tried it before & it didn't work! I had four guys fighting over
Mr. White: You have no idea what you're talking about. These people bust their
asses off every day for us. These tips are what keeps them alive!
Mr. Pink: Ah, fuck all that.
Freddy Newandyke: What's this?
Teddy: Its an anecdote about a drugdeal.
Freddy Newandyke: A what?
Teddy: A fucking story about a fucking job, man.
Nice Guy Eddie: Okay, first things fuckin' last!
Nice Guy Eddie: We got places all over the place.
Joe: So, you guys like to tell jokes, huh? Gigglin' and laughin' like a bunch of
young broads sittin' in a schoolyard. Well, let me tell a joke. Four guys,
sittin' in a bullpen, in San Quentin. All wondering how the fuck they got there.
What should we have done, what didn't we do, who's fault is it, is it my fault,
your fault, his fault, all that bullshit. Then one of them says, hey. Wait a
minute. When we were planning this caper, all we did was sit around tellin'
fuckin' jokes! Get the message? Boys, I don't mean to holler at ya. When this
caper's over - and I'm sure it'll be a sucessful one - we'll get down to the
Cayman Islands, hell, I'll roll and laugh with all of ya. You'll find me a
different character down there. Right now, it's a matter of business.
Mr. White: Smoke?
Mr. Pink: I quit.
Mr. Pink: What, you got one?
Joe: You don't need proof when you have instinct.
Mr. Orange: What happens if the manager won't give you the diamonds?
Mr. White: When you're dealing with a store like this, they're insured up the
ass. They're not supposed to give you any resistance whatsoever. 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. Everybody jumps. He falls down screaming, blood
squirts out of his nose, nobody says fucking shit after that. You might get some
bitch talk shit to you, but give her a look like you're gonna smash her in the
face next, watch her shut the fuck up. Now if it's a manager, that's a different
story. Managers know better than to fuck around, so if you get one that's giving
you static, he probably thinks he's a real cowboy, so you gotta break that son
of a bitch in two. If you wanna know something and he won't tell you, cut off
one of his fingers. The little one. Then tell him his thumb's next. After that
he'll tell you if he wears ladies underwear. I'm hungry. Let's get a taco.
Mr. Orange: FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! I'M FUCKING DYING!
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. Brown: O.K., let me tell you what Like a Virgin's about. It's all about this
cooze who's a regular fuck machine, I'm talking morning, day, night, afternoon,
dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick.
Mr. Blue: How many dicks is that?
Mr. White: A lot.
Mr. Brown: Then one day she meets this John Holmes motherfucker and it's like,
whoa baby, I mean this cat is like Charles Bronson in the Great Escape, he's
digging tunnels. Now, she's gettin the serious dick action and she's feeling
something she ain't felt since forever. Pain. Pain. It hurts her. It shouldn't
hurt her, you know her pussy should be Bubble Yum by now, but when this cat
fucks her it hurts. It hurts just like it did the first time. You see the pain
is reminding a fuck machine what it once was like to be a virgin. Hence,
"Like a virgin."
Mr. Pink: I'm very sorry the government taxes their tips, that's fucked up. That
ain't my fault. It would seem to me that waitresses are one of the many groups
the government fucks in the ass on a regular basis. Look, if you ask me to sign
something that says the government shouldn't do that, I'll sign it, put it to a
vote, I'll vote for it, but what I won't do is play ball. And as for this
non-college bullshit I got two words for that: learn to fuckin' type, 'cause if
you're expecting me to help out with the rent you're in for a big fuckin'
Mr. Blonde: Was that as good for you as it was for me?
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
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.
Marvin: I already told you I don't know anything about any fucking setup; you
can torture me all you want.
Mr. Blonde: Torture you? That's a good idea. I like that.
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. Brown: Mr. Brown? That sounds too much like Mr. Shit.
Joe: And you are Mr. Pink.
Mr. Pink: Why am I Mr. Pink?
Joe: Cause you're a faggot, ok?
Mr. Pink: How about I be Mr. Purple?
Joe: No, You can't be Mr. Purple.
Mr. Pink: Why not?
Joe: Someone on another job is Mr. Purple!
Mr. White: Who cares what your name is?
Mr. Pink: Oh yeah that's easy for you to say you've got a cool sounding name.
How about we trade, OK? You're Mr. Pink.
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.
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,
Mr. Blonde: Hey Joe, you want me to shoot this guy?
Mr. White: [laughs] Shit.. You shoot me in a dream, you better wake up and
Mr. Blonde: All you can do is pray for a quick death, which you aren't going to
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: 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
[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.
Mr. White: You can't leave this guy with them.
Nice Guy Eddie: Why not?
Mr. White: Because he's a fucking psycho. And if you think Joe's pissed off,
that ain't nothing compared to how pissed off I am at him, for putting me in the
same room as that bastard!
Mr. Blonde: See what I've been putting up with, Eddie? I fucking walked in here,
I told these guys about staying put. Mr. White whips out his gun, he's sticking
it in my face, calling me a motherfucker, saying he's gonna blow me away and
blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
[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]
Mr. White: 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
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.