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Martin Q. Blank
: You must've done some *naughty* shit there, Bart.
[flips dossier over to him
] Martin Q. Blank
: There's a contract out on your life. Believe me. I was hired to kill you, but I'm not going to do it. It's either because I'm in love with your daughter or because I have a newfound respect for life. Mr. Grocer
: [following in van
] That punk is either in love with that guy's daughter or he has a newfound respect for life. Mr. Newberry
: [after reading contract/dossier
] My whole life! Martin Q. Blank
: Hopefully not.
: What have you been doing with your life? Marty
: Uh... professional killer. Mr. Newberry
: Oh! Good for you, it's a... growth industry.
: Did I have you figured wrong? Marty
: I don't know - I mean, I hope so. Mr. Newberry
: I visualised you in a haze as one of those slackster, flannel-wearing, coffee-house misanthropes I've been seeing in Newsweek. Marty
: No no no, I went the other road. Six figures, doing business with leadpipe cruelty, mercenary sensibility. You know... sports, sex, no real relationships with anyone. How about you, how have the years been treating you? Mr. Newberry
: Well, you know me, Martin. Still the same old sell-out, exploiting the oppressed... Marty
: Sure. Mr. Newberry
: "Ah, what a piece of work is man, how noble..." ah, fuck it. Let's have a drink and forget the whole damn thing.
: [at the end of a running gun battle
] You don't need to answer right now, but Debi, will you marry me? Mr. Newberry
: [pokes his head up from the bathtub
] You got my blessing!
: Design Division wants me dead over a leaky sunroof and you want to kill me because of *that*? Martin Q. Blank
: It's *not* me! Why does everyone always think it's personal?