-What, you want to say something?
-Yeah, about a million things, but I can’t express myself monosyllabically enough for you to understand!
“Look, you guys can go around if you want to. I’m crossing here. And while you guys are dragging your candy asses across the state and back, I’ll be waiting for you on the other side relaxing with my thoughts.”
“The hell is wrong with all my friends?”
hey! Dude! c’mon, dont leave! This affects all of us man! our basic FREEDOM!
The illusion of freedom is better than none at all.
-We’ll have three beers!
-We don’t have beer, only tequilla.
-Tequilla, what’s that?
-It’s like beer.
-is that just beer?
-for the most part.
-$5 Shake? That’s just ice cream and milk?
-Last time I checked.
-You don’t put any bourbon in it or anything?
-Nope.
WALTER
Yeah, go figure. Well we’ll go out
there after the, uh, the.
He waves a hand vaguely toward the stage.
WALTER
What have you. We'll, uh--
DONNY
We'll be near the In-and-Out Burger.
WALTER
Shut the fuck up, Donny. We'll, uh,
brace the kid--he'll be a pushover.
We'll get that fucking money, if he
hasn't spent it already. Million
fucking clams. And yes, we'll be
near the, uh--some burgers, some
beers, a few laughs. Our fucking
troubles are over, Dude.Two oat sodas please Gary!
Go fuck yourself, San Diego.
-We should have sat in Marilyn Monroe’s section. I don’t think Buddy Holly’s much of a waiter.
-Which one, there’s two?
-No, that’s Marilyn Monroe
and that’s Mamie Van Doren.
I don’t see Jane Mansfield, so she must have the night off.
-Is it. . . is it, being prepared to do the right thing? Whatever the price? Isn’t that what makes a man?
-Sure. That and a pair of testicles
Mrs. Robinson are you trying to seduce me?
Be gone little indian.
NARRATOR:
“His name was Jeremiah Johnson, and they say he wanted to be a mountain man. The story goes that he was a man of proper wit and adventurous spirit, suited to the mountains. Nobody knows where abouts he come from and don’t seem to matter much. He was a young man and ghosty stories about the tall hills didn’t scare him none. He was looking for a Hawken gun, .50 caliber or better. He settled for a .30, but damn, it was a genuine Hawken, and you couldn’t go no better. Bought him a good horse, and traps, and other truck that went with being a mountain man, and said good-bye to whatever life was down there below.”
shit sandwich
Dun-dun…dun-dun…Salsa shark.
“‘Suck my dick’, Ron Jeremy”
he said at least he wasn’t 36.