Author: Dignan
Published: Aug 30th, 2009
Category: Movie Posters
Comments: None

Reservoir Dogs Poster

Here’s a great movie poster from Reservoir Dogs of Mr Blonde with of his most memorable quotes from the film: “Are you gonna bark all day, little doggie, or are you gonna bite?” As of this post, they have an unbeatable price of $4.98. More Reservoir Dogs movie posters after the jump!

Reservoir Dogs Mr Blonde Michael Madsen Movie Poster

Framed Poster
Buy at AllPosters.com
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. Five 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 successful one – we’ll get down to the Hawaiian 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.
[pause]
Mr. Pink: What, you got one?

Nice Guy Eddie: Did you see that, daddy?
Joe: What?
Nice Guy Eddie: That guy got me on the ground and he tried to fuck me.
Mr. Blonde: You wish.
Nice Guy Eddie: Listen, Vic. Whatever you wanna do in the privacy of your own home, go do it. But don’t try to fuck me in my father’s office – I don’t think of you that way. I like you a lot man, but I don’t think of you that way.
Mr. Blonde: Eddie, if I was a butt cowboy, I wouldn’t even throw you to the posse.
Nice Guy Eddie: Of course not, you’d keep me for yourself, you sick bastard. Four years of fuckin’ punks up the ass you’d appreciate a piece of prime rib when you see one.

[first lines]
Mr. Brown: Let me tell you what ‘Like a Virgin’ is about. It’s all about a girl who digs a guy with a big dick. The entire song. It’s a metaphor for big dicks.
Mr. Blonde: No, no. It’s about a girl who is very vulnerable. She’s been fucked over a few times. Then she meets some guy who’s really sensitive…
Mr. Brown: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa… Time out Greenbay. Tell that fucking bullshit to the tourists.
Joe: Toby… Who the fuck is Toby? Toby…
Mr. Brown: ‘Like a Virgin’ is not about this sensitive girl who meets a nice fella. That’s what “True Blue” is about, now, granted, no argument about that.
Mr. Orange: Which one is ‘True Blue’?
Nice Guy Eddie: ‘True Blue’ was a big ass hit for Madonna. I don’t even follow this Tops In Pops shit, and I’ve at least heard of “True Blue”.
Mr. Orange: Look, asshole, I didn’t say I ain’t heard of it. All I asked was how does it go? Excuse me for not being the world’s biggest Madonna fan.
Mr. Blonde: Personally, I can do without her.
Mr. Blue: I like her early stuff. You know, ‘Lucky Star’, ‘Borderline’ – but once she got into her ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ phase, I don’t know, I tuned out.
Mr. Brown: Hey, you guys are making me lose my… train of thought here. I was saying something, what was it?
Joe: Oh, Toby was this Chinese girl, what was her last name?
Mr. White: What’s that?
Joe: I found this old address book in a jacket I ain’t worn in a coon’s age. What was that name?
Mr. Brown: What the fuck was I talking about?
Mr. Pink: You said ‘True Blue’ was about a nice girl, a sensitive girl who meets a nice guy, and that ‘Like a Virgin’ was a metaphor for big dicks.
Mr. Brown: Lemme tell you what ‘Like a Virgin’ is 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.
Joe: Chew? Toby Chew?
Mr. Brown: 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’.
Joe: Wong?

Joe: This man set us up.
Nice Guy Eddie: Dad, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what the hell’s happening.
Joe: It’s all right, Eddie. I do.
Mr. White: What the fuck are you talking about?
Joe: That lump of shit’s working with the L.A.P.D.
Mr. Orange: Joe, I don’t have the slightest fucking idea what you’re talking about.
Mr. White: Joe, I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re wrong.
Joe: Like hell I am.
Mr. White: Joe, trust me on this. You’ve made a mistake. He’s a good kid. I understand. You’re hot, you’re super fucking pissed. We’re all real emotional. But you’re barking up the wrong tree. I know this man. He wouldn’t do that.
Joe: You don’t know jack shit! I do! The cocksucker tipped off the cops and had Mr. Brown and Mr. Blue killed.
Mr. Pink: Mr. Blue is dead?
Joe: Dead as Dillinger.
Mr. White: How do you know all this?

Joe: He was the only one I wasn’t 100% on. I should have my fuckin’ head examined, going on a plan like this when I wasn’t 100%.
Mr. White: [shouting] That’s your proof?
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: [after killing Mr. Blonde] Hey you, what’s your name?
LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: Marvin.
Mr. Orange: Marvin what?
LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: Marvin Nash.
Mr. Orange: Listen to me, Marvin, I’m a c…
[pauses]
Mr. Orange: …listen to me, Marvin Nash, I’m a cop.
LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: Yeah, I know.
Mr. Orange: You do?
LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: Yeah, you’re name’s Freddy something.
Mr. Orange: Newendyke. Freddy Newendyke.
LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: Frankie Ferchetti introduced us about five months ago.
Mr. Orange: Shit, I don’t remember that at all.
LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: I do. Freddy… Freddy, how do I look?
Mr. Orange: [Freddy laughs] I don’t know what to tell you, Marvin.
LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: That fuck! That sick fuck! That fucking bastard!
Mr. Orange: Marvin, I need you to hold on. There’s cops waiting less than a block away.
LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: What the fuck are they waiting for? This fucking guy slashes my face, and he cuts my fucking ear off! I’m fucking deformed!
Mr. Orange: [yells] FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! I’M FUCKIN’ DYING HERE! I’M FUCKIN’ DYING!
[pauses and calms down]
Mr. Orange: All right, now you heard them, we’ll make the move when they get back, so don’t pussy out on me now, Marvin. We’re just gonna sit here and bleed until Joe Cabot sticks his fucking head through that door!

Mr. Blonde: Listen kid, I’m not gonna bullshit you, all right? I don’t give a good fuck what you know, or don’t know, but I’m gonna torture you anyway, regardless. Not to get information. It’s amusing, to me, to torture a cop. You can say anything you want cause I’ve heard it all before. All you can do is pray for a quick death, which you ain’t gonna get.
[He removes his razor]
Mr. Blonde: You ever listen to K-Billy’s “Super Sounds of the Seventies” weekend? It’s my personal favorite.

Mr. White: If you shoot this man, you die next. Repeat. If you shoot this man, you die next.

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’ surprise.

Mr. Blonde: Was that as good for you as it was for me?

Nice Guy Eddie: Yeah I’m sorry, I should have picked you up myself. This whole week has been fucked up, I’ve had my head up my ass the whole time.
Mr. Blonde: You know, that’s funny, ’cause that’s what me and your dad were just talkin’ about.
Nice Guy Eddie: That I should have picked you up?
Mr. Blonde: No, that you got your head up your ass. I mean I walked in here and Joe’s like, “Vic, thank god you’re back. My son Eddie’s a fuck-up. I mean I love the guy, but he’s just flushin’ everything down the toilet. He’s ruining me.” I mean that’s what you said, right Joe? I’m not makin’ this up.
Joe: I’m sorry you had to hear it like this Eddie. Vic asked me how business was, and you can’t lie to a man who’s done time for you.
Nice Guy Eddie: That’s very true.
[he and Vic get into a wrestling contest]

Mr. Pink: We were set up. The cops were waiting for us.
Nice Guy Eddie: What? Nobody set anybody up.
Mr. Pink: The cops were there waiting for us!
Nice Guy Eddie: Bull shit!
Mr. Pink: Hey, fuck you, man! You weren’t there – we were! And I’m tellin’ ya, the cops had that store staked out.
Nice Guy Eddie: Okay, Mr. Fucking Detective! You’re so fucking smart. Who did it? Who set us up?
Mr. Pink: What the fuck d’ya think we’ve been askin’ each other?
Nice Guy Eddie: And what are your answers? Was it me? You think I set you up?
Mr. Pink: I don’t know, but somebody did!
Nice Guy Eddie: Nobody did! You assholes turn the jewelry store into a wild west show, and you wonder why the cops show up?

Mr. White: [fighting over what to do with the dying Mr. Orange] If I have to tell you again to back off, you an’ me are gonna go round and round.
Mr. Pink: We ain’t taking him to a hospital.
Mr. White: If we don’t, he’ll die!
Mr. Pink: And I’m very sad about that, but some fellas are lucky, and some ain’t.
Mr. White: [shoving Mr. Pink] That fuckin’ did it!
Mr. Pink: Don’t you fuckin’ touch me, man!
Mr. White: [punches Mr. Pink. He falls and Mr. White proceeds to kick him across the floor] You little motherfucker!
Mr. Pink: [rolling over and pulling out a gun] You wanna fuck with me? I’ll show ya who you’re fuckin’ with!
Mr. White: [aiming his gun at Mr. Pink's face] You wanna shoot me, you little piece of shit? Take a shot!
Mr. Pink: Fuck you, White! I didn’t create the situation, I’m just dealin’ with it! You’re acting like a first year fucking theif – I’m acting like a professional! If they get him, they can get you. They get you, they get closer to me, and that can’t happen! And you, motherfucker, are lookin’ at me like it’s MY fault. I didn’t tell him my name. I didn’t tell him where I was from. I didn’t tell him what I knew better than NOT to tell him! Fuck, fifteen minutes ago you almost told me your name! You, buddy, are stuck in a situation YOU created. So, if you wanna throw bad looks somewhere, throw ‘em at a mirror!

Nice Guy Eddie: [on the phone as he drives to the warehouse] All I know is what Vic told me. He said the place turned into a fucking bullet festival. He took a cop as hostage, just to get the fuck outta there.
[pause]
Nice Guy Eddie: Do I sound like I’m joking? He’s fuckin’ driving around with a cop in his trunk!

Nice Guy Eddie: C’mon, throw in a buck!
Mr. Pink: Uh-uh, I don’t tip.
Nice Guy Eddie: You don’t tip?
Mr. Pink: Nah, I don’t believe in it.
Nice Guy Eddie: You don’t believe in tipping?
Mr. Blue: You know what these chicks make? They make shit.
Mr. Pink: Don’t give me that. She don’t make enough money that she can quit.
Nice Guy Eddie: I don’t even know a fucking Jew who’d have the balls to say that. Let me get this straight: you don’t ever tip?
Mr. Pink: I don’t tip because society says I have to. All right, if someone deserves a tip, if they really put forth an effort, I’ll give them something a little something extra. But this tipping automatically, it’s for the birds. As far as I’m concerned, they’re just doing their job.
Mr. Blue: Hey, our girl was nice.
Mr. Pink: She was okay. She wasn’t anything special.
Mr. Blue: What’s special? Take you in the back and suck your dick?
Nice Guy Eddie: I’d go over twelve percent for that.

Nice Guy Eddie: Let me say this out loud, ’cause I wanna get it straight in my head. You’re saying that Mr. Blonde was gonna kill you, then when we got back, he was going kill us, take the satchel of diamonds, and scram. I’m right about that, right? That’s correct? That’s your story?
Mr. Orange: I swear on my mother’s eternal soul that’s what happened.
Nice Guy Eddie: The man you just killed was just released from prison. He got caught at a company warehouse full of hot items. He could’ve fuckin’ walked. All he had to do was say my dad’s name, but he didn’t; he kept his fucking mouth shut. And did his fuckin’ time, and he did it like a man. He did four years for us. So, Mr. Orange, you’re tellin’ me this very good friend of mine, who did four years for my father, who in four years never made a deal, no matter what they dangled in front of him, you’re telling me that now, that now this man is free, and we’re making good on our commitment to him, he’s just gonna decide, out of the fucking blue, to rip us off? Why don’t you tell me what really happened?
Joe: [walks in] What the hell for? It’d just be more bullshit.

Mr. Blonde: Listen, I appreciate what, you guys are doin’ for me, but I was wonderin’ when I can come back and, you know, do some real work.
Joe: Well, that’s hard to say, It’s kind of a strange time now. Things are a little…
Nice Guy Eddie: They’re a little fucked-up is what they are. Listen we got a big meetin’ goin’ down in Vegas right now.
Joe: Just let Eddie for now set you up in Long Beach, get you some cash, Get this Scagnetti fuck off your back, and then we can start talkin’ okay? Huh?
Nice Guy Eddie: Listen daddy, I got an idea. Now just, hear me out. Now, I know you don’t like usin’ the boys on jobs like these, but Vic has been nothin’ but good luck for us. The guy’s a fuckin’ rabbits foot for cryin’ out loud. I’d like to have him in. You know he’s reliable and you damn well know trust him.
Joe: [pause] How would you feel about pulling off a job with about five other guys?
Mr. Blonde: I’d feel great about it.

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.

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. 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: Eddie, you keep 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. White: What was that? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch it. Would you repeat it?
Mr. Blonde: Are you gonna bark all day, little doggy, or are you gonna bite?

Mr. Blonde: Boy that was really exciting. I bet you’re a big Lee Marvin fan aren’t ya. Yeah me too. I love that guy. My heart’s beatin’ so fast I’m about to have a heart attack.

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 apologize.

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: Ain’t that a sad sight, Daddy, the man walks in the prison a white man, walks out talkin’ like a fuckin’ nigger. You know what, I think it’s all that black semen been pumped up your ass so far, now it’s backed into your fuckin brain, and it’s coming out your mouth!

[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: Look, I ordered coffee. Now we’ve been here a long fucking time and she’s only filled my cup three times. When I order coffee, I want it filled *six* times.
Mr. Blonde: Six times. Well, what if she’s too fucking busy?
Mr. Pink: The words “too fucking busy” shouldn’t be in a waitress’s vocabulary.
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 alive.
Mr. White: [clapping] My fucking hero.
Mr. Blonde: [taking a bow] Thanks.
Mr. White: That’s your excuse for going on a kill-crazy rampage?
Mr. Blonde: I don’t like alarms, Mr. White.

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: [walks in] Was that a fucking set up or what?
[sees a bloodied Mr. Orange lying on the floor]
Mr. Pink: Shit! Orange got tagged?
Mr. White: Gut shot.
Mr. Pink: Fuck! Where’s, uh, Brown?
Mr. White: Dead.
Mr. Pink: How’d he die?
Mr. White: How the fuck do you think? The cops shot him.
Mr. Pink: This is bad. This is so fucking bad. Is it bad?
Mr. White: As opposed to good?
Mr. Pink: Man, this is fucked up. This is so fucked up. Somebody fucked us up big time, man.
Mr. White: You really think we were set up?
Mr. Pink: Do you even doubt it, man? 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 first motherfuckers were already there, they were waiting for us. Haven’t you fucking thought about this?

[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 conversation.
Mr. Pink: And what was tellin’ him your name when you weren’t supposed to?
Mr. White: He asked.
[pause]
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! Or maybe I should’ve, but I couldn’t!” Fuck you! Fuck Joe!
Mr. Pink: [sarcastically] Oh, I’m sure it was a beautiful scene…
Mr. White: DON’T FUCKING PATRONIZE ME!

Mr. Orange: [after being shot] I’m gonna fuckin’ die! I’m gonna fuckin’ die!
Mr. White: Your not gonna fuckin’ die!

Mr. Brown: [after Mr. Pink's tipping conversation] Jesus Christ!

Joe: Cough up a buck you cheap bastard.

Mr. Pink: [Mr. Blonde and Mr. White begin to quarrel; Mr. Pink pushes them away from each other] Hey, you two assholes knock it the fuck off and calm down! Cut the bullshit. We ain’t on a fuckin’ playground! I don’t beleive this shit. Both of you guys got ten years on me and I’m the only one acting like a professional. You guys act like a bunch of fuckin’ niggers. You wanna be niggers, huh? They’re just like you two – always fightin’ and always sayin’ their gonna kill each other…
Mr. White: You said yourself you thought about takin’ him out!
Mr. Blonde: You fuckin’ said that?
Mr. Pink: Yeah, I did. But that time has passed. Right now, Mr. Blonde is the only one I completely trust. He’s too fuckin’ homicidal to be workin’ with the cops.
Mr. White: You takin’ his side?
Mr. Pink: No, man. Fuck sides! What we need here is a little solidarity! Somebody’s shoving a red hot poker up our asses and I wanna find out whose name is on the handle. Now, I know I’m no piece of shit.
[referring to Mr. White]
Mr. Pink: And I’m pretty sure you’re a good boy.
[referring to Mr. Blonde]
Mr. Pink: And I’m fucking positive you’re on the level. So let’s figure out who the bad guy is.

[Mr. Blonde has cut off Marvin's ear and begins talking into it]
Mr. Blonde: Hey what’s goin’ on? 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: [pulling a gun on Mr. Blonde] 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: How about a little 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.

Freddy Newandyke: What is this?
Holdaway: That’s an amusing anecdote about a drug deal.
Freddy Newandyke: What?
Holdaway: Something funny that happened to you while you were doing a fucking job, man.

Mr. Pink: You’re acting like a first year fucking thief! I’m acting like a professional!

Freddy Newandyke: Motherfucker, I’m trying to watch ‘The Lost Boys’!

Freddy Newandyke: [reassuring himself in the mirror] Don’t pussy out on me now. They don’t know. They don’t know shit. You’re not gonna get hurt. You’re fucking Barretta. They believe every fucking word ’cause you’re super cool.

Nice Guy Eddie: The chick got tired of him beatin’ her so one night she walks in the guys bedroom and super glues his dick to his belly. Ambulance came and had to cut the prick loose.
Mr. White: Was he all pissed off?
Nice Guy Eddie: How would you feel if every time you had to take a piss you had to do a fuckin’ hand stand?

Mr. Pink: What was the name of the chick who played Christie Love?
Nice Guy Eddie: Pam Grier.
Mr. Orange: No it wasn’t Pam Grier. Pam Grier was the other one. Pam Grier did the film. Christie Love was like Pam Grier TV Show without Pam Grier.
Mr. Pink: So who was Christie Love?
Mr. Orange: How the fuck should I know?
Mr. Pink: Great. Now I’m totally fucking tortured.

Mr. Pink: Mr. Blonde! What happened to you? We figured you were dead. Hey! You okay? Did you see what happened to Blue? We didn’t know what happened to you and Blue, that’s what we were wondering about.
[Blonde doesn't answer]
Mr. Pink: Come on! Look, Brown’s dead and Orange got it in the belly…
Mr. White: ENOUGH! Enough! You better start talking asshole! Because we got shit we need to talk about! We’re already freaked out. We need you acting freaky like we need a fuckin’ bag on our hip!
Mr. Blonde: Okay, let’s talk.

Mr. Blonde: Guess what, I think I’m parked in the red-zone!

Mr. Pink: For all I know, you’re the rat.
Mr. White: For all I know you’re the fucking rat!
Mr. Pink: All right, now you’re using your fucking head!

Joe: With the exception of Eddie and myself, whom you already know, we’re going to be using aliases on this job. Under no circumstances do I want any one of you to relate to each other by your Christian names, and I don’t want any talk about yourself personally. That includes where you been, your wife’s name, where you might’ve done time, or maybe a bank you robbed in St. Petersburg. All I want you guys to talk about, if you have to, is what you’re going to do. That should do it. Here are your names…
[pointing to each respective member]
Joe: Mr. Brown, Mr. White, Mr. Blonde, Mr. Blue, Mr. Orange, and Mr. Pink.
Mr. Pink: Why am I Mr. Pink?
Joe: Because you’re a faggot, alright?

[rubbing his thumb and forefinger together]
Mr. Pink: Do you know what this is? It’s the world’s smallest violin playing just for the waitresses.

Mr. Blonde: I might break you in, Nice Guy, but I’d make you my dog’s bitch.

Mr. Blonde: You kids shouldn’t play so rough. Somebody’s gonna start cryin’.

LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: Please! Please… Don’t burn me, man.
Mr. Blonde: You all through? You all through?
LAPD Officer Marvin Nash: Look, I… I got a little kid at home. Now, PLEASE.
Mr. Blonde: [holding up a lighter] No, no, no, no, no, no. You all done? You all done? How ’bout a little fire, Scarecrow?

Joe: How does freedom feel?
Mr. Blonde: It’s a change.

Joe: So who’s your parole officer?
Mr. Blonde: Seymour Scagnetti.
Joe: What’s he like?
Mr. Blonde: He’s a fuckin’ asshole.

Mr. White: [snatches Joe's address book] Give me this fucking thing.
Joe: What do you think you’re doing? Give me back my book!
Mr. White: I’m sick of fucking hearing it Joe, I’ll give it back to you when we leave.
Joe: What do you mean, give it to me when we leave, give it back now.
Mr. White: For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been droning on about names. Toby. Toby?
[flips pages in book]
Mr. White: Toby? Toby Wong. Toby Wong? Toby Wong. Toby Chung? Fucking Charlie Chan. I got Madonna’s big dick coming out of my left ear, and Toby the Jap… I don’t know what – comin’ out of my right.

Freddy Newandyke: I gotta memorize all this? There’s over four fucking pages of this shit!

[Joe counts the tip and finds it is a buck short]
Joe: Hey, who didn’t throw in?
Mr. Orange: Mr. Pink.
Joe: Mr. Pink? Why not?
Mr. Orange: He don’t tip.
Joe: He don’t tip? Whaddaya mean you don’t tip?
Mr. Orange: He don’t believe in it.
Joe: Shut up!

Joe: Hey, I’ve changed my mind. Shoot this piece of shit, will ya?

Mr. Pink: I mean everbody panics, everybody, things get tense, it’s human nature to panic, I don’t care what you name it you just can’t help it.

Mr White: That girl’s ass…
Mr. Orange: It’s sitting here right on my dick.

[while cutting Marvin Nash's ear off]
Mr. Blonde: Hold still! Hold still, you fuck!

Holdaway: So if this fruit’s a Brewer’s fan, his ass gotta be from Wisconsin.
Freddy Newandyke: Bing!
Holdaway: And I’ll bet you everything from a diddle-eyed Joe to a damned if I know that in Milwaukee they got a sheet on this Mr. White motherfucker’s ass…

Mr. Brown: I’m blind, man. I’m fucking blind.
Mr. Orange: You’re not blind, you’ve just got blood in your eyes.

[last lines]
Off-Screen Police Officers: Freeze! Drop the fucking gun, buddy. Put the gun down! Don’t do it! Drop the gun man! Don’t do it! Drop the fucking gun. We’re gonna fucking blow you away!
[gunshots]

Freddy Newandyke: [asked by Holdaway to describe Joe Cabot] You remember the ‘Fantastic Four’?
Holdaway: Yeah, with that invisible bitch, ‘Flame On!’ and that shit?
Freddy Newandyke: The Thing; motherfucker looks like The Thing.

Joe: Now listen up, Mr. Pink. There’s two ways we can do this job. My way… or the highway!

Nice Guy Eddie: Alright, Mr. Fucking Compassion! I will call somebody!
Mr. White: Who?
Nice Guy Eddie: A fucking snakecharmer! What do you think? I’ll call a doctor!

Mr. Brown: [after Joe assigns names] Yeah, yeah, but “Mr. Brown”? That’s little too close to “Mr. Shit”.
Mr. Pink: Yeah, “Mr. Pink” sounds like “Mr. Pussy”. Tell you what, let me be Mr. Purple. That sounds good to me. I’m Mr. Purple.
Joe: You’re *not* Mr. Purple. Somebody from another job’s Mr. Purple. You’re Mr. Pink!

K-Billy DJ: That was The Partridge Family’s “Doesn’t Somebody Want to be Wanted?”, followed by Edison Lighthouse’s “Love Grows where my Rosemary Goes” as K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the 70′s weekend just keeps on… truckin’.

Joe: Let’s go to work.

Mr. White: We’re leaving. You should go with us.
Mr. Blonde: Nobody’s goin’ anywhere.
Mr. White: Piss on this fucking turd! We’re outta here.

Mr. Pink: [debating the messy situation at the warehouse] Well, first things first. Staying here’s goofy. We gotta book up.
Mr. White: So, what do you suggest, we go to a hotel? We got a guy who’s shot in the belly, he can’t walk, he bleeds like a stuck pig, and when he’s awake he screams in pain.
Mr. Pink: You got an idea, spit it out.
Mr. White: Joe could help him. If we can get in touch with Joe, he could get him to a doctor. He could get a doctor to come see him.
Mr. Pink: Assuming we can trust Joe, how we gonna get in touch with him, huh? He’s supposed to be here, but he ain’t, which is making me very nervous about being here. Even if Joe is on the up and up, he’s probably not gonna be too happy with us. Joe planned a robbery, but he’s got a blood bath on his hands now. Dead cops, dead robbers, dead civillians… Jesus Christ! I tend to doubt he’s gonna have a lot of sympathy for our plight. If I was him, I’d try to put as much distance between me and this mess as humanly possible.

Mr. Pink: We still gotta get outta here.
Mr. Blonde: We’re gonna sit here and wait.
Mr. White: For what, the cops?
Mr. Blonde: Nice Guy Eddie.
Mr. Pink: Nice Guy Eddie? What makes you think he isn’t on a plane half way to Costa Rica?
Mr. Blonde: ‘Cause I talked to him and he said he was on his way down here.
Mr. White: You talked to Nice Guy Eddie? Why the fuck didn’t you say that in the first place?
Mr. Blonde: You didn’t ask.
Mr. White: Hardy fuckin’ har.

Mr. Pink: Hey, why am I Mr. Pink?
Joe: Because you’re a faggot.
Mr. Pink: Why can’t we pick our own colors?
Joe: No way, no way. Tried it once, doesn’t work. You got four guys all fighting over who’s gonna be Mr. Black, but they don’t know each other, so nobody wants to back down. No way. I pick. You’re Mr. Pink. Be thankful you’re not Mr. Yellow.
Mr. Brown: Yeah, but Mr. Brown is a little too close to Mr. Shit.
Mr. Pink: Mr. Pink sounds like Mr. Pussy. How ’bout if I’m Mr. Purple? That sounds good to me. I’ll be Mr. Purple.
Joe: You’re not Mr. Purple. Some guy on some other job is Mr. Purple. Your Mr. PINK.
Mr. White: Who cares what your name is?
Mr. Pink: Yeah, that’s easy for your to say, you’re Mr. White. You have a cool-sounding name. Alright look, if it’s no big deal to be Mr. Pink, you wanna trade?
Joe: Hey! NOBODY’S trading with ANYBODY. This ain’t a goddamn, fucking city council meeting, you know. Now listen up, Mr. Pink. There’s two ways you can go on this job: my way or the highway. Now what’s it gonna be, Mr. Pink?
Mr. Pink: Jesus Christ, Joe, fucking forget about it. It’s beneath me. I’m Mr. Pink. Let’s move on.
Joe: I’ll move on when I feel like it… All you guys got the goddamn message?… I’m so goddamn mad, hollering at you guys I can hardly talk. Pssh. Let’s go to work.