Marge Gunderson: So that was Mrs. Lundegaard on the floor in there. And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper. And those three people in Brainerd. And for what? For a little bit of money. There's more to life than a little money, you know. Don'tcha know that? And here ya are, and it's a beautiful day. Well. I just don't understand it.
Marge Gunderson: Say, Lou, didya hear the one about the guy who couldn't afford personalized plates, so he went and changed his name to J3L2404?
Lou: Yah, that's a good one.
[Marge bends over next to the overturned car, as if she's looking at something on the ground]
Lou: You alright there, Margie?
Marge Gunderson: Oh, I just think I'm gonna barf...
Marge Gunderson: [standing up again after a moment] ... Well, that passed. Now I'm hungry again.
Marge Gunderson: I'm not sure I agree with you a hundred percent on your police work, there, Lou.
Carl Showalter: Who the fuck are you?
[Wade doesn't answer]
Carl Showalter: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?
Wade Gustafson: I got your damn money. Now, where's my daughter?
Carl Showalter: I am through fuckin' around here! Drop that fuckin' briefcase!
Wade Gustafson: Where's my daughter?
Carl Showalter: Fuck you, man! Where's Jerry? I gave simple fuckin' instructions!
Wade Gustafson: Where's my damn daughter? No Jean, no money!
Carl Showalter: Drop that fuckin' money!
Wade Gustafson: No Jean, no money!
Carl Showalter: Is this a fuckin' joke here?
Wade Gustafson: [as he sinks to his knees and falls back] Aww, Jeez.
Carl Showalter: Happy now, asshole? What's with you people? Ya fuckin' imbeciles!
[as Carl reaches for the briefcase, Wade shoots him in the face]
Carl Showalter: Ah! You fuckin' shot me!
[Carl shoots Wade six more times, screams, then kicks the dead Wade twice]
Carl Showalter: You fuck!
Norm Gunderson: They announced it.
Marge Gunderson: They announced it?
Norm Gunderson: Yeah.
Marge Gunderson: So?
Norm Gunderson: Three-cent stamp.
Marge Gunderson: Your mallard?
Norm Gunderson: Yeah.
Marge Gunderson: Oh, that's terrific.
Norm Gunderson: It's just a three-cent stamp.
Marge Gunderson: It's terrific.
Norm Gunderson: Hautman's blue-winged teal got the 29-cent. People don't much use the three-cent.
Marge Gunderson: Oh, for Pete's sake. Of course they do. Whenever they raise the postage, people need the little stamps.
Jerry Lundegaard: [answering the phone] Jerry Lundegaard.
Carl Showalter: [voice over the phone] Alright, Jerry, you got the phone to yourself? Are you alone?
Jerry Lundegaard: [into the phone] Well, yeah.
Carl Showalter: [voice] You know who this is?
Jerry Lundegaard: Well, yeah, I got an idea. How's that Ciera working out for ya?
Carl Showalter: [voice] Circumstances have changed, Jerry.
Jerry Lundegaard: Well, what do ya mean?
Carl Showalter: [voice] Things have changed, circumstances, Jerry... force majeure, acts of God.
Jerry Lundegaard: How's Jean?
Carl Showalter: [puzzled] Who's Jean?
Jerry Lundegaard: My wife! What the-?
Carl Showalter: [voice] Oh... right. She's alright, but there's a few people in Brainerd who aren't so okay, I'll tell you that.
Jerry Lundegaard: What the heck are ya talking about? Let's just finish this deal up here.
Carl Showalter: [voice] Blood has been shed, Jerry.
Jerry Lundegaard: What the heck do ya mean?
Carl Showalter: [voice] Three people, in Brainerd... are dead.
Jerry Lundegaard: Oh, jeez!
Carl Showalter: [voice] That's right, we need more money.
Jerry Lundegaard: What the heck are ya talking about? What do you fellas have yourself mixed up in?
Carl Showalter: [voice] Never mind that. We need more money...
Jerry Lundegaard: [interrupting] This was supposed to be a no rough stuff type deal!
Carl Showalter: [angry] DON'T EVER INTERRUPT ME, JERRY! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Jerry Lundegaard: Well, I'm sorry, but I just... I don't...
Carl Showalter: [voice] I'm not gonna debate with you on this, Jerry! I'm not gonna debate! Three people in Brainerd were killed last night. We now want the entire 80,000!
Jerry Lundegaard: Oh, for chris'sake here!
Jerry Lundegaard: [Jerry and Wade discuss business opportunity] This could work out real good for me and Jean and Scotty.
Wade Gustafson: [coldly] Jean and Scotty never have to worry.
[Jean is making noise in the back of the car]
Gaear Grimsrud: Shut the fuck up! Or I'll throw you back in the trunk, you know?
Carl Showalter: Jesus, that's more than I've heard you say all week.
Mr. Mohra: So, I'm tendin' bar there at Ecklund and Swedlin's last Tuesday, and this little guy's drinkin' and he says, "So where can a guy find some action? I'm goin' crazy out there at the lake." And I says, "What kinda action?" and he says, "Woman action, what do I look like?" And I says, "Well, what do I look like? I don't arrange that kinda thing," and he says, "But I'm goin' crazy out there at the lake," and I says, "Well, this ain't that kinda place."
Officer Olson: Uh-huh.
Mr. Mohra: So he angrily says, "Oh I get it, so you think I'm some kinda crazy jerk for askin'!" only he doesn't use the word "jerk."
Officer Olson: I understand.
Mr. Mohra: And then he calls me a jerk, and says that the last guy who thought he was a jerk is dead now. So I don't say nothin' and he says, "What do ya think about that?" So I says, "Well, that don't sound like too good a deal for him, then."
Officer Olson: [chuckles] Ya got that right.
Mr. Mohra: And he says, "Yah, that guy's dead, and I don't mean of old age." And then he just pays his tab and walks out saying, "Geez, I'm goin' crazy out there at the lake!"
Officer Olson: White Bear Lake?
Mr. Mohra: Well... Ecklund & Swedlin's, that's closer ta Moose Lake, so I made that assumption.
Officer Olson: Oh sure.
Mr. Mohra: So, ya know, he's drinkin', so I don't think a whole great deal of it, but Mrs. Mohra heard about the homicides down here last week and she thought I should call it in. So... I called it in. End o' story.
Officer Olson: What'd this guy look like, anyway?
Mr. Mohra: Oh, he was a little guy... Kinda funny lookin'.
Officer Olson: Uh-huh. In what way?
Mr. Mohra: Oh, just in a general kinda way.
Norm Gunderson: [rubbing Margie's pregnant stomach] Two more months.
Marge Gunderson: [smiling] Two more months.
Norm Gunderson: I love you, Margie.
Marge Gunderson: I love you, Norm.
[she leaves, closing the door; after getting in the car briefly, she comes back in the door]
Marge Gunderson: Hon?
Norm Gunderson: Yah?
Marge Gunderson: Prowler needs a jump.
Carl Showalter: [irately, over the phone] Alright, Jerry, I'm through fuckin' around! You got the fuckin' money?
Jerry Lundegaard: [into the phone] Yeah, I got the money, but... uh...
Carl Showalter: Don't you fuckin' fuck me, Jerry! I want you to get this money to the parking garage at the Dayton Radisson, top level, in 30 minutes, Jerry. We wrap this thing up.
Jerry Lundegaard: Yeah, but...
Carl Showalter: Hey, you're there in 30 minutes, Jerry, or I find you, Jerry, and I shoot you and I shoot your fuckin' wife and I shoot all your fuckin' children and I shoot them all in the back of their little fuckin' heads! You got it?
Jerry Lundegaard: Okay, now you stay away from Scotty, now.
Airport Lot Attendant: There's a minimum charge of four dollars. Long-term parking charges by the day.
Carl Showalter: I guess you think you're... you know, like an authority figure, with that stupid fuckin' uniform, huh buddy? King clip-on-tie there, big fuckin' man, huh? You know these are the limits of your life, man! The rule of your little fuckin' gate here!
[gives the attendant the money]
Carl Showalter: Here's your four dollars, you pathetic piece of shit!
Carl Showalter: I'm not gonna debate you, Jerry.
Jerry Lundegaard: Okay.
Carl Showalter: I'm not gonna sit here and debate.
Carl Showalter: [Shep Proudfoot, enraged, bursts into apartment and knocks Carl out of bed while having sex with hooker] Shep, whatthefuckyadoin'? I'm banging that girl!
Shep Proudfoot: [beating Carl Showalter violently] Fucking little weasel! Fuck you! You fucking motherfucker son of a bitch! Fucking cock! Jesus Christ! You fucking shitbag motherfucker!
Carl Showalter: [entering cabin, with shot-up face] You should see the other guy.
Carl Showalter: [he sees Jean Lundegaard's dead body] What the fuck happened to her?
Gaear Grimsrud: [watching TV and eating TV dinner] Uh, she started shrieking, y'know. She wouldn't stop...
Carl Showalter: Geesus. Well, it doen't matter. I got the money. All of it. All eighty grand.
Carl Showalter: [he puts a couple stacks of bills down on table] That's forty for you, forty for me.
[Grimsrud pokes at the stacks of bills with his fork]
Carl Showalter: [puts a set of keys next to the money] That's it, then. You can have my truck. Here's the keys. I'm takin' the Ciera.
Gaear Grimsrud: We split that.
Carl Showalter: [pause] How the fuck do you split a fuckin' car, ya dummy? With a fuckin' chainsaw?
Gaear Grimsrud: One of us pays the other for half.
Carl Showalter: Hold on! No fuckin' way! You fuckin' notice this? I got fuckin' shot! I got fuckin' shot in the face! I went and got the fuckin' money. I got shot fuckin' picking it up! I've been up for thirty-six fuckin' hours! I'm taking' that fuckin' car! That fucker's mine, you fuckin' asshole!
[as usual, no response from Grimsrud]
Carl Showalter: You know, I've been listening to your fuckin' bullshit all week! Are we square?
[no response from Grimsrud who continues staring at the TV]
Carl Showalter: [flashing his gun] Are WE square?
Carl Showalter: Yeah, ya fuckin' mute. And if you see your friend Shep Proudfoot, tell him I'm gonna nail his fuckin' ass!
[he exits angrily toward the Ciera; after a few moments, Grimsrud follows him out the door with an axe in hand]
Carl Showalter: [Showalter turns and sees Grimsrud striding toward him, axe raised] Oh no! Aaaaaah!
[Grimsrud brings the axe down toward Carl's neck]
Gaear Grimsrud: Where is pancakes house?
Carl Showalter: What?
Gaear Grimsrud: We stop at pancakes house.
Carl Showalter: What... are you nuts? We had pancakes for breakfast. Gotta go to a place I can get a shot and a beer, steak, maybe, not more fuckin' pancakes, c'mon.
[Gaear just stares at Carl]
Carl Showalter: Oh, come on, man! Okay, here's an idea: we can stop outside of Brainerd. I know a place there we can get laid. Whaddya think?
Gaear Grimsrud: I'm fucking hungry now, you know!
Carl Showalter: Yeah yeah Jesus, I'm sayin' we can... stop, get pancakes and then we'll get laid, alright?
[Gaear glares briefly]
Jerry Lundegaard: I'm, uh, Jerry Lundegaard.
Carl Showalter: You're Jerry Lundegaard?
Jerry Lundegaard: Ya. Shep Proudfoot said...
Carl Showalter: Shep said you'd be here at 7:30. What gives, man?
Jerry Lundegaard: Shep said 8:30.
Carl Showalter: We've been sitting here an hour. He's
[motioning to Gaer]
Carl Showalter: peed three times already.
Jerry Lundegaard: I'm sure sorry. Shep told me 8:30. It was a mix-up, I guess.
Marge Gunderson: OK, so we got a trooper pulls someone over, we got a shooting, these folks drive by, there's a high-speed pursuit, ends here and then this execution-type deal.
Jean Lundegaard: [reprimanding Scotty, who is eating and watching TV, paying no attention] I am talking about your potential. You're not a 'C' student.
Scotty Lundegaard: Uh huh...
Jean Lundegaard: Yet you're gettin' 'C' grades. It's the disparity here that concerns your dad and me.
Scotty Lundegaard: [mumbling] Mmmm.
Jean Lundegaard: Ya know what a disparity is?
Scotty Lundegaard: [attentive now] Yeah!
Jean Lundegaard: Okay, then! That's why we don't want ya goin' out for hockey!
Scotty Lundegaard: [upset] Oh, come on! What's the big deal? It's just an hour a... what's the big deal?
Jean Lundegaard: [phone rings] Hold on.
Jean Lundegaard: Hullo? Oh, hi, Dad! Yah! He's here, I'll catch him for ya!
Jean Lundegaard: [to Jerry] Hon, it's Dad.
Scotty Lundegaard: [to his father, entering the room] Look, Dad, there's no fucking way...
Jerry Lundegaard: [putting his hand over the phone's mouthpiece] Hey, let's watch that language there!
Carl Showalter: [on date with hooker] So, how long you been with the escort service?
Escort: I don't know, a few months.
Carl Showalter: Find that work interesting, do ya?
Escort: What're you talkin' about?
[quick cut to next scene, where he's having sex with her]
Marge Gunderson: Oh for Pete's sake, he's fleeing the interview! He's fleeing the interview!
Marge Gunderson: Mind if I sit down? I'm carrying quite a load here.
[Jerry and an irate customer argue over a sealant that the customer had previously indicated he didn't want, after Jerry has gone off to pretend to talk to his boss]
Jerry Lundegaard: Well, we've never done this before. But seeing as it's special circumstances and all, he says I can knock a hundred dollars off that Trucoat.
Irate Customer: [stunned that Jerry still intends to charge him for something he didn't order] One hundred... You lied to me, Mr. Lundegaard. You're a bald-faced liar. A... fucking liar.
Irate Customer: [to his wife, frustrated] Where's my goddamn checkbook? Let's get this over with.
Carl Showalter: Would it... kill you to say something? "No." That's the first thing you've said in the last four hours. That's a... that's fountain of conversation, man. That's a geyser. I mean, whoa daddy! Stand back, man. Shit. I'm sitting here driving. Doing all the driving, man. The whole fucking way from Brainard driving. Just trying to... chat, you know. Keep our spirits up, fight the boredom of the road, and you can't say one fucking thing just in the way of conversation. Oh fuck it. I don't have to talk to you either, man. See how you like it. Just total fucking silence. Two can play at that game, smart guy. We'll just see how you like it. Total silence.
Jerry Lundegaard: I told ya. We haven't had any vehicles go missing.
Marge Gunderson: Okay! But are ya sure? 'Cause I mean, how do you know? Do you do a count, or what kind of a routine do you have here?
Jerry Lundegaard: [growing uncomfortable with this questioning] Ma'am, I answered your question!
Marge Gunderson: [long pause] I'm sorry, sir?
Jerry Lundegaard: Ma'am, I answered your question! I answered the darned... I'm cooperatin' here!
Marge Gunderson: Sir, you have no call to get snippy with me! I'm just doing my job here.
Jerry Lundegaard: I'm... I'm not arguing here! I'm cooperating. So there's no need to... we're doin' all we can here.
Marge Gunderson: Sir, could I talk to Mr. Gustafson?
[Jerry gives her a glassy-eyed look, knowing full well that Gustafson is dead]
Marge Gunderson: Mr. Lundegaard?
Carl Showalter: [voice] Three people were killed last night in Brainerd. We're in a load of trouble, Jerry. I'm comin' there tomorrow. You have the money ready by then.
Jerry Lundegaard: [into the phone] Now, we had a deal. A deal's a deal.
Carl Showalter: [voice] Is it, Jerry? Why don't you ask those three poor souls in Brainerd if a deal's a deal? Go ahead, ask them!
Jerry Lundegaard: [into the phone] The heck do ya mean?
Carl Showalter: [mimicking Jerry mockingly] "The heckya mean?" I'll call you tomorrow!
Marge Gunderson: [reporting over her police radio] There's the car! There's the car!
Lou: What car?
Marge Gunderson: My car, my car! Tan Ciera, tan Ciera!
Scotty Lundegaard: [finishing supper] May I be excused?
Jerry Lundegaard: Ya done, there?
Scotty Lundegaard: Yah. Can I go out?
Jean Lundegaard: Where ya goin'?
Scotty Lundegaard: Just to McDonalds.
Jerry Lundegaard: Be back at 9:30.
Wade Gustafson: He just ate - he didn't finish! He's goin' to McDonalds instead of finishin' here.
Jean Lundegaard: He sees his friends there. It's okay.
Wade Gustafson: It's okay, MAC-Donalds. Heh. Whaddya think they do there? They don't drink milkshakes, I assure you.
Jean Lundegaard: It's okay, Dad!
[Marge is interviewing the two hookers whose clients were the two suspects]
Hooker No. 1: Well, the little guy was kinda funny-lookin'.
Marge Gunderson: In what way?
Hooker No. 1: I dunno... just funny-lookin'.
Marge Gunderson: Can you be any more specific?
Hooker No. 1: I couldn't really say... He wasn't circumcised.
Marge Gunderson: [amused by this unhelpful detail] Was he funny lookin' apart from that?
Hooker No. 1: Yah...
Marge Gunderson: So, you were havin' sex with the little fellow, then.
Hooker No. 1: Uh huh...
Marge Gunderson: Well, I'm sorry, sir!
Jerry Lundegaard: [storming off to do a lot count] Aw, what the Chris'!
[as Shep angrily approaches Carl]
Carl Showalter: You stay away from me, man! Hey, smoke a fuckin' peace pipe!
Carl Showalter: You ever been to Minneapolis?
Gaear Grimsrud: Nope.
Carl Showalter: Would it... kill you to say something?
Gaear Grimsrud: I did.
Carl Showalter: "No." That's the first thing you've said in the last four hours. That's, a fountain of conversation there, buddy. That's a geyser.
Carl Showalter: [banging on the TV] Come on, plug me into the ozone, baby, come on!
Marge Gunderson: So, Mike, should we get together another time?
Mike Yanagita: No!
Mike Yanagita: I'm sorry, I... I shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have done this, I shouldn't have... I thought we'd have a really terrific time.
Marge Gunderson: It's OK, Mike.
Mike Yanagita: You were such a super lady... and I'm, I'm so lonely.
Mike Yanagita: [moves to Marge's side of the table and puts arms around her] Do you mind if I sit over here?
Marge Gunderson: No. Why don't you sit over there? I'd prefer that.
Mike Yanagita: Huh? Uh... ok.
[moves back to other side of table]
Mike Yanagita: Sorry.
Marge Gunderson: Oh, no, no. Just so I can see you. I don't have to turn my neck.
Marge Gunderson: [to Radisson hotel concierge] I'm doing really super there, thanks. I am Mrs. Gunderson. I have a reservation.
Hotel Clerk: Yep, you sure do, Mrs. Gunderson.
Marge Gunderson: [smiling] Is there a phone down here, you think?
Wade Gustafson: I'm not talking about your damn word, Jerry.
Marge Gunderson: [on lobby phone, asking advice about a restaurant] Is it reasonable?
Carl Showalter: You know, it's proven that second-hand smoke is, uh, carcin-... uh, you know, cancer related.
Jerry Lundegaard: I'm in a bit of trouble...
Carl Showalter: What kind of trouble are you in, Jerry?
Jerry Lundegaard: Well, that's, that's... I'm not gonna go into, inta... see, I just need money.
Jerry Lundegaard: Well, heck, if you wanna play games here! I'm workin' with ya on this thing, but I... Okay, I'll do a damned lot count!
Marge Gunderson: Sir? Right now?
Jerry Lundegaard: Sure, right now! You're darned tootin'!
Carl Showalter: Oh, fuck it, I don't have to talk, either, man! See how you like it. Just total fuckin' silence. Two can play at that game, smart guy. We'll just see how you like it. Total silence.
Carl Showalter: Just keep it still back there, lady, or we're going to have to, you know, shoot you.
Jerry Lundegaard: You see, my wife's dad is real well off.
Carl Showalter: So, why don't you just ask him for the money?
Gaear Grimsrud: Or your fucking wife, you know.
Carl Showalter: Or your fuckin' wife, Jerry?
Jerry Lundegaard: Well, it's all part of... look, the thing is they don't know that I'm in trouble. My wife and father-in-law don't know I need money. And if they did... I still won't get it. Okay? These are personal matters.
Carl Showalter: Personal matters? Okay, you're tasking us to perform this mission, but you won't tell us what... oh, fuck it. Let's have a look at the Ciera.
Officer Olson: Hiya, Norm. How ya doin', Margie? How's the fricasse?
Marge Gunderson: Pretty darn good, ya want some?
Officer Olson: No, I gotta - hey, Norm, I thought you were goin' fishin' up at Mille Lacs?
Norm Gunderson: Yah, after lunch.
Jean Lundegaard: [chopping vegetables] Hiya, hon! Welcome back! How was Fargo?
Jerry Lundegaard: Yah, real good now.
Jean Lundegaard: Dad's here.
[Jerry's mood changes as he hears this news]
Jerry Lundegaard: Is he stayin' for supper then?
Jean Lundegaard: I dunno... I think so. Dad?
Wade Gustafson: What?
Jean Lundegaard: [thick Minnesota accent] You stayin' for supperrrrr?
Wade Gustafson: Yah!