Dutch: Nothing burps better than bacon. Your water looked tasty.
[Doyle doesn't want to come with Dutch; Dutch carries him out of his dorm slung underneath a hockey stick, with his hands and feet tied to the stick and a gag in his mouth]
Dutch: What do you like to do for fun?
[Doyle struggles to get loose, grunting around the gag]
Dutch: Oh, you like to wiggle and grunt. Me too.
Dutch: You might be the toughest little whacker at the junior high but in my world, you're about as worrisome as a cloudy day.
Dutch: Listen you little son of a bitch, you could've killed someone with a stunt like that. That poor bastard was on his way home to see his family and because you wanted to play some kind of a spoiled brat prank, you put his life in jeopardy. Now what gives you the right to do that?
Doyle: I guess I didn't think about that.
Dutch: Well you better start thinking about a little something else besides your own spoiled ass! I took on this idiotic assignment because I love your mother. I gotta wonder how nuts I am. Man I've met some scum in my life but you beat all, man, you are absolutely worthless. You know what, this is a full blown mission, you're not gonna beat me. I've had my head split open, my nose mashed, I've been kicked and beat and left for dead, and when I set you on your mama's doorstep, you're gonna be one whipped little puppy.
[Doyle insists that Dutch stop the car, Dutch sarcastically slams on the brakes, tossing Doyle on the floorboard]
Dutch: You can't beat a Ford for good brakes!
Dutch: I may not look like I could finance a trip to the zoo but the truth is I make a pretty good living. My income is a damn lot more than your father gives your mother to live on. But my money doesn't matter in your neighborhood, because I work for it. Working for your money doesn't matter in your neck of the woods, it's whose crotch the doctor yanked you out of.
Dutch: You know, some day you're gonna get in a situation where you can't call for help. You'll have to depend on yourself, and you'll let yourself down. I'm not calling because I don't want your mother to think we can't make it home on our own. Call it male pride. Good, old fashioned, pig-headed, working-class, pre-fax machine/car phone, masculine pride. No accountants, no lawyers, no mommies, no daddies... no Washington lobbyists. Just a man and his wits.
Dutch: Before we start, run in the other room and get my coat, would ya. I've got something in there for your mother.
Doyle: Right now?
Natalie: Can't it wait?
Dutch: Well, it's something very special.
[grins all around]
[gets up from table]
Dutch: [to Natalie] Move over.
[to her horror he shoots Doyle with the pellet gun]
Dutch: I've talked to you and talked to you until I can puke coat hangers.
Party Woman: Pardon my incredulity, Natalie, but I'm very surprised to see you here. Pleasantly so, of course.
Natalie: I'm a little surprised to see myself here, too, Mary Alice. Pleasantly so, of course.
Party Woman: Were you here last year?
Natalie: No, I wasn't invited last year.
Party Woman: Oh, curious. That must have been an accident. Oh, do you know Libby?
Natalie: No, I don't believe I do.
Party Woman: Libby, this is Natalie Standish. Natalie is Reed's... Oh, is it alright to...
Natalie: Say that Reed got me pregnant when I was a barhop at your country club? Married me to avoid scandal? Spent the next ten years sucking the life out of me? Got bored with me, dumped me, and screwed me in court? Sure, go ahead.
Party Woman: Uh... Natalie is Reed's ex-wife.
Dutch: I don't care for caviar, I make it a policy never to eat something a fish deposits in a riverbed.
Dutch: Excuse me, I understand what you were saying to Natalie was personal. Well, I'm involved with her now so this is personal too; you hurt her and I'll hit you so fucking hard your dog will bleed, okay?
Doyle: Does campus security know you're here?
Dutch: Can you say, "I'm sorry I hit you with a golf club? Kicked your face? Mashed your testes? Shot you twice?" If that's too much, a simple "hello" would do.
Doyle: Answer my question.
Dutch: You can't say that?
Doyle: Of course I can say it.
[long, melodramatic pause]
Doyle: I choose not to.
Dutch: [aims the bb pistol] Now can you?
Dutch: Well, then I have to shoot you. Now, since we might be legally related someday, I'll give you the option of taking it on the backside. Won't hurt as bad.
Dutch: I told your mother I'd take you home for the holidays.
Doyle: I have plans.
Dutch: You gonna stay here? Watch the football game on TV? Make a turkey sandwich and hang yourself in the toilet?
Doyle: We have a very big problem here.
Dutch: I suppose we do. I have a problem because I told your mother I'd pick you up. And you have a problem because the last guy that punched me has a dent in his forehead the size of my pinky ring, and he dribbles when he smiles.
Doyle: My father is one of the most powerful men in this country! When he hears what you did to me, he'll sue your working-class ass into complete and total destitution!
Dutch: How do you know I'm working-class?
Doyle: From your cheap shoes, to your ridiculous hairstyle, to your crude vocabulary, to my mother's taste in men, you scream it.
Dutch: And is working-class bad.
Doyle: If you want to get into a political discussion with me, I'll shred you. No, it's not bad. A solid economy needs hand workers.
Dutch: Frankly, I don't care if you live, die, or grow mushrooms in your crack.
Dutch: I still owe you that shot in the ass, in case it's gnawing on your mind.
Dutch: That's not gonna get us a ride! Come on, be pathetic! Pretend you're not gonna get ten million dollars when you're twenty-one!
Doyle: Fireworks are illegal in Illinois.
Dutch: Yes they are but this is Tennessee, so it doesn't matter.
Doyle: You're gonna detonate this material now?
Dutch: No not here in the gas station, you nuts? We'll go down the road a piece. I got M80s, Dragon Tongues, Bombay Bugles, Jersey Stinkers, Ha ha ha I don't even know what this is. For later I got a bag of pretzels and a deck of racy playing cards.
Doyle: You're like a great big demented child.
Dutch: Hee hee hee hee hee.
Dutch: You really are a hypocrite, aren't you? A couple 'o hookers
Dutch: a couple 'o hookers got a set of rockets, that's okay, but everyone else who enters your station in life is scum?
Dutch: [In hopes of getting a ride, Dutch coaches Doyle on how to make a pathetic face] Act like you're not gonna get $10,000,000 when you're 21!
Dutch: [Doyle & Dutch are in a restaurant and Doyle claims he can kick Dutch's butt] Well, I won't cop to that, but I will say this. There's one thing I can do that you can't...
Doyle: [smug grin] Oh yeah? What?
Dutch: ...I can pay for my breakfast.
Doyle: I could have frozen to death, you asshole!
Dutch: I don't think you would have frozen. Not solid, anyway, it's not quite cold enough for that. Here's the deal, Dobsie: I don't screw around. You piss me off, I react. I'm not your daddy, I'm not your friend, I'm not your uncle. I'm a working-class nobody, and I don't take crap from kiddies.
Doyle: Someone from any sort of decent background would knock. And she's not my "mom". I don't have a "ma". You, may have a "ma". I have a mother. Okay?
Teddy: Do you want to take the call, shit-head?
Teddy: Have a nice weekend, rotting in your own pissed-off world.
Dutch: You got anything to say? Me, I like to talk. I love to talk. Live to talk. You got any amusing anecdotes?
Doyle: I'm living through one right now.
Dutch: You and I are riding in the back seat from now on. Because what that missile twister can teach you, you don't need to learn 'til you're in prison.
Dutch: It's your mother's fault.
Doyle: Why is it her fault?
Dutch: Because she gave birth to you.
Doyle: And what about your mother?
Dutch: My mother's a saint.
Doyle: For what, havin' puppies?