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: It stinks on fucking hot ice.
: She can't act. Are you listening to me? She makes stuff not work - stuff she ain't even in - it comes out all twisted!
[Cheech is helping Olive rehearse a scene
: Can't you see? You're living out the exact same pattern your mother lived out with your father. Cheech
: I am? Pray tell. Olive
: In some way you're trying to relive it and in the process of reliving it, correct it. As if that were possible. HA. Cheech
: It don't say "ha." Olive
: I know it don't say "ha," I added that. Cheech
: Are you allowed to do that? I don't think you're allowed to do that. Olive
: We're allowed to add things. It's called ad-libbing. Cheech
: Well, I think the whole thing stinks. Olive
: Well, I think you're a degenerate zombie so shut up and read. Cheech
: You shut up. Olive
: You shut up and read. Cheech
: You're lucky you're Nick's girl. Olive
: You're lucky you're an idiot.
: You're lucky you're Nick's girl! Olive
: You're lucky you're an idiot!
: Where I come from, nobody squeals!
: [at the end, dying
] No. Don't speak.
: Sylvia Pincus. Big fat Jewish broad, had a little tiny husband. She chopped him up with an ax and mailed his pieces all over the country. I don't know what she was tryin' to prove.
: You're gonna write it? Cheech
: What am I? A fuckin' idiot? They taught me how to read and write in school before I burned it down. David Shayne
: You burned down your school? Cheech
: Yeah, it was Lincoln's birthday. There was nobody there.
: I studied playwrighting with every teacher, I read every book... Cheech
: Let me tell you somethin' about teachers. I hate teachers. Those blue-haired bitches used to whack us with rulers. Forget teachers.
: Olive, I think you should know this: you're a horrible actress.
[Cheech shoots Olive dead