Quotes for
Mr. Pink (Character)
from Reservoir Dogs (1992)

advertisement

Reservoir Dogs (1992)

Mr. White: Smoke?
Mr. Pink: I quit.
[pause]
Mr. Pink: What, you got 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 nice 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. Orange: 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?

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. 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: 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.

[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. 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. 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. 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. Pink: Where's the commode in this dungeon? I gotta take a squirt.

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: You're acting like a first year fucking thief! I'm acting like a professional!

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. 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? Its the world's smallest violin playing just for the waitresses.

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. 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!

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.

---