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

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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 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?

Mr. White: How do you know all this, Joe? How do you know Mr. Orange is the informant?
Joe: He was the only one that I wasn't 100% sure on. I should have my fuckin' head examined for going on a plan like this when I wasn't a hundred percent sure of my crew!
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. White: If you shoot this man, you die next. Repeat. If you shoot this man, you die next.

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!

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.

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. 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.

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.

Mr. Pink: [about Mr. Blonde] 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... but 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: [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: What? W-Wait. You didn't tell him your name, did you?
Mr. White: I told him my first name, and where I was from.
Mr. Pink: Why?
Mr. White: I told him where I was from a few days ago. It was just a natural 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 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, telling him not to worry, everything'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 do? Tell him: "Sorry, I can't give out that fuckin' information! It's against the rules! I don't trust you enough!"? Or maybe I should've, but I couldn't! Fuck you and fuck Joe!
Mr. Pink: [sarcastically] Oh, I'm sure it was a beautiful scene between you...
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. 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. White: What, did you forget your french fries, to go with the soda?

Mr. White: [pulling a gun on Mr. Blonde] Fuck you, Maniac!

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. 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.

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: 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!

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.

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

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. 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.

Mr. Pink: [entering the warehouse] Was that a fucking setup, or what?
[sees Mr. White tending to a seriously wounded Mr. Orange]
Mr. Pink: Shit. Orange got tagged?
Mr. White: Gut shot.
Mr. Pink: Fuck. Where's Brown?
Mr. White: Dead.
Mr. Pink: How did he die?
Mr. White: How the fuck do you think? The cops shot him.
Mr. Pink: This is so fucking bad.
[referring to Orange's wound]
Mr. Pink: Is it bad?
Mr. White: As opposed to good?

[Joe pulls out his gun and aims it at Mr. Orange; in response, Mr. White pulls out his gun and aims it Joe; Eddie pulls out his gun and aims it at Mr. White]
Nice Guy Eddie: Have you lost your fuckin' mind?
Mr. White: Joe, you're making a terrible mistake. I'm not gonna let you make it.
Mr. Pink: Come on, guys! Nobody wants this! We're supposed to be fucking professionals!
Nice Guy Eddie: Larry, look. It's been quite a long time. A lot of jobs. There's no need for this, man. Lets just put our guns down, and lets settle this with a fuckin' conversation.
Mr. White: [ignores Eddie, his gaze is fixed on Joe] Joe, if you kill that man, you die next. I repeat: If you kill that man, you die next.
Nice Guy Eddie: Larry, we have been friends, and you respect my dad, and I respect you, but I will put fucking bullets right through your heart. You put that fuckin' gun down, now.
Mr. White: Goddamn you, Joe. Don't make me do this.
Nice Guy Eddie: [angrily] LARRY, STOP POINTING THAT FUCKIN' GUN AT MY DAD!
[Joe shoots Mr. Orange; Mr. White shoots and kills Joe; Eddie shoots Mr. White; Mr. White quickly shoots and kills Eddie, then collapses near Mr. Orange, both of them are injured but still alive]

Mr. Blonde: What's this guy's problem?
Mr. White: Yeah I got a problem! I got a *big* fuckin' problem. Fuckin' trigger happy madman almost get's me shot!
Mr. Pink: What the fuck are you talking about?
Mr. White: That fuckin' shooting spree! In the store remember?
Mr. Blonde: Oh fuck 'em. They set off the alarm. They deserved what they got.
Mr. White: You almost killed me! Asshole! If I knew what kind of a guy you were I never would've agreed to work with you!
Mr. Blonde: Are you gonna bark all day little doggie? 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 doggie? Or are you gonna bite?
[Mr. White lunges for Mr. Blonde who fights back. Mr. Pink steps in between them]
Mr. Pink: You two assholes, calm the fuck down! Hey, come on! What are we on a playground here? Am I the only professional? You're actin' like a bunch of fuckin' niggers man. Did you ever work with niggers? Just like you two always saying they're 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, okay? But that was then! Right now this guy is the only I completely trust. He's too fuckin' homicidal to be workin' with the cops.
Mr. White: You takin' his side?
Mr. Pink: Fuck sides man what we need here is a little solidarity! Somebody's stickin' a red hot poker up our asses and I wanna know who's name's on the handle. Fuck. Look I know I'm no peice of shit.
[He turns to Mr. White]
Mr. Pink: And I'm pretty sure you're okay.
[He turns to Mr. Blonde]
Mr. Pink: And I'm fuckin' positive you're on the level. So let's just try and figure out who the bad guy is, all right?

Nice Guy Eddie: What happened to Mr. Brown and Mr. Blue?
Mr. Pink: Brown's dead. We don't know what happened to Blue.
Nice Guy Eddie: Mr. Brown's dead? Are you sure?
Mr. White: I'm sure. I was there. He took one in the head.
Nice Guy Eddie: Nobody's got a clue what happened to Mr. Blue?
Mr. Blonde: Either he's alive or he's dead. Or the cops got him or they don't.

Off-Screen Police Officers: [From Trailer] Freeze! Put the gun down!
Joe: Here your name's. Mr. White, Mr. Blonde and Mr. Pink.
Mr. Pink: Why am I Mr. Pink?
Mr. White: Who cares what your name is.
Mr. Pink: Easy for you to say your Mr. White you got a cool sounding name.
Joe: Let's go to work.
Mr. Orange: [the men walk out as White and Orange discuss there bank plan] What happens if the Manager doesn't give you the diamonds?
Mr. White: Cut one of his fingers off the little one.
Mr. Blonde: If they haven't done what I told them not to do, they'd still be alive!
Mr. Pink: [White punches Pink to the floor] Your acting like a first year thief, i'm acting like a Professional!
Mr. White: [White in bathroom speaking to Pink] A guy like can put you in for ten years worth.
Mr. Orange: [to Sheriffs] BAM!
Mr. White: [Discussing Blonde's situation in the bank] BAM!
Mr. Blonde: [Mr. Pink shoot's at the cops] Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam!
Nice Guy Eddie: [White, Orange, Pink and Eddie in the car discussing their favorite TV series from the 70's] Your under arrest sugar!
Mr. Blonde: [after White takes Joe's book] Hey Joe, want me to shoot this guy?

Mr. White: [snatching Joe's book from his hand] Gimme that fuckin' thing...
Joe: What the hell do ya think you're doin'? Gimme my book back!
Mr. White: I'm sick of fuckin' hearin' it, Joe. I'll give it back to you when we leave.
Joe: Whaddaya mean when we leave? Gimme it back now!
Mr. White: For the past 15 minutes now you've been droning on about names. Toby... Toby... Toby... Toby Wong... Toby Wong, Toby Wong... Toby Chung, fuckin' Charlie Chan. I got Madonna's big dick coming outta my left ear, and Toby the Jap - I dunno what - coming outta my right.
Joe: Gimme that book.
Mr. White: Are you gonna put it away?
Joe: I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want with it.
Mr. White: Well then, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to keep it.
Mr. Blonde: Hey Joe... Want me to shoot this guy?
Mr. White: Shit... You shoot me in a dream, you better wake up and apologize.

Mr. White: [about Mr. Blonde] You can't leave these guys here with him.
Nice Guy Eddie: Why not?
Mr. White: 'Cause 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: You see what I've been putting up with, Eddie? I fucking walked in here, 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.
Mr. White: He's the reason the joint turned into a shooting spree.
[to Mr. Pink]
Mr. White: What are you, a fucking silent partner? Tell him!
Mr. Pink: He went crazy in the store, but him seems all right now.


Reservoir Dogs: Sundance Institute 1991 June Film Lab (1991) (V)
Mr. Pink: I got the diamonds.
Mr. White: You wanna come back with that little piece of information again, buddy-boy?
Mr. Pink: I got the diamonds, alright?
Mr. White: Where?
Mr. Pink: I got 'em.
Mr. White: Where? Where are they, in your fucking car, are they up your ass, where the fuck are they?
Mr. Pink: No they're not in my car and I don't have them on me. Look, if you wanna call me and go get 'em, yes we can do that. First, you gotta fucking listen to what I'm saying to you alright?