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: What are you saying? What are you proposing? Mrs. Carmody
: If we all prepare... to meet our maker... Jim Grondin
: [interrupting her
] Oh, prepare to meet shit! Lady, your tongue must be hung in the middle so that it can waggle at both ends. Mrs. Carmody
: The end of times has come. Not in flames, but in mist. Jim Grondin
: Come here. How about if your ass prepares to meet my size ten work boot! How about that?
: Jim Grondin. I had you in school, didn't I? Jim Grondin
: Yes, ma'am. Me and my sister Pauline. Irene
: Pair of underachievers.
: After you, Jim.
[after Norm is dragged off into the mist
] Jim Grondin
: [to David
] How was I supposed to know what you meant? You should've said what you meant better!
: We got you now, you sorry son of a bitch!