Ginger Snaps (2000)
Ginger: [to Brigitte] A girl can only be a slut, a bitch, a tease, or the virgin next door.
Brigitte: People don't leave their dogs out alone anymore.
Ginger: Then you'll just have to distract her while I nab the pooch and make with the gore.
Brigitte: I can't distract her.
Ginger: The fuck, Bee. This is your idea. If you don't like your ideas, stop having them.
Brigitte: I was just wondering what you hit.
Sam: [sarcastically] Well, officer, looked like a lycanthrope to me, sir.
Brigitte: I know what a lycanthrope is.
Sam: Sure you do.
Brigitte: Think you see werewolves a lot?
Ginger: I get this ache... And I, I thought it was for sex, but it's to tear everything to fucking pieces.
Ginger: Out by sixteen or dead on the scene, but together forever.
[Growing impatient waiting for Brigitte to hold her hand]
Ginger: C'mon! Together forever.
Brigitte: United against life as we know it.
Ginger: [Playing with a kitchen knife] Wrists are for girls. I'm slitting my throat.
Brigitte: Baxter's fertilizer, and everyone's standing there just... staring. Why don't they just catch that thing? How hard could it be in a place full of dead ends?
Trina Sinclair: [Sam whistles to Brigitte on the field] Hi!
[Brigitte and Ginger look at him as Trina looks shocked]
Sam: Brigitte, come here!
Ginger: The fuck, B? You got a boyfriend or something?
Brigitte: No, we just...
Brigitte: I'll be right back.
Trina Sinclair: [Turning away] Oh my god.
Sam: [Brigitte walks over to him] Hey, what's up? Look, if silver's shot, I've been reading and I got another idea.
Brigitte: Are you on drugs, like right now? I'm in class here.
Sam: [Scoffs] Yeah, excuse me for giving a shit.
[He walks back to his van]
Brigitte: I'll come see you later, ok?
Sam: [Glances back] Whatever.
Sam: See, I flattened an animal. Furry, all-fours, could be anything. But here I am thinking "lycanthrope". That's crazy, huh? Book me in to the rubber motel, I'm officially all fucked up, right?
Brigitte: What if you're not?
Sam: Well, that would explain the human circumcised dick... and why you were running for your life from it.
Brigitte: [on suicide note] Long is the way that out of hell leads up to the light.
Brigitte: Are you *sure* it's just cramps?
Ginger: Just so you know... the words "just" and "cramps," they don't go together.
[Snatches the box of tampons away]
[after Brigitte cuts her palm]
Brigitte: You wrecked everything for me that isn't about you.
[Brigitte cuts Ginger's palm, exchanges blood with her]
Sam: No. Shit.
Brigitte: Now I am you.
Ginger: I know you are. But what am I?
[while burying girl under the shed]
Ginger: Think she's pretty?
Brigitte: If I wasn't here, would you eat her?
Ginger: You know, we're almost not even related anymore.
[after killing the janitor]
Brigitte: You like it.
Ginger: It feels so... good, Brigitte. It's like touching yourself. You know every move... right on the fucking dot. And after, you see fucking fireworks. Supernovas. I'm a goddamn force of nature. I feel like I could do just about anything.
Ginger: I kill their pets, B, and the only thing that helps is to tear living things to pieces. I can't be like this!
Pamela Fitzgerald: [brings cake in] Ginger's very favorite. Congratulations sweetie. You know you can ask me anything.
Ginger: [points at Brigitte] You're so dead.
Brigitte: I didn't.
Pamela Fitzgerald: Our little girl's a young woman now.
[Sam is stoned, and has just ran over the werewolf]
Sam: Oh, fuck me.
Ginger: I said I'd die for you!
Brigitte: No. You said you'd die with me. Cause you had nothing better to do.
Brigitte: [Ginger has spent a while in the toilet] Ging, what's going on? Something's wrong with you. More than you being just... female. Could you just say something please?
[Brigitte walks into the toilet, and where Ginger has been slashed on her chest, there is hair]
Ginger: Whoa? That's it? 'Whoa'? I can't have a hairy chest, B. That's fucked!
Brigitte: No way.
Ginger: The fuck? What the fuck?
[Ginger hits the wall]
Brigitte: This isn't...
Brigitte: No, like...
Brigitte: Bitten? On a full moon. Now you're hairy?
[Ginger chuckles to herself]
Brigitte: I know, but think about it.
Ginger: Well thank you for taking my total fucking nightmare so seriously!
Brigitte: Oh my God, you killed Norman.
Ginger: He barked and he barked and he just kept fucking barking!
Ginger: [about becoming a werewolf, drunk on blood] You love it. Should come for the ride. A little scratch. Swap some juice. We'll be our own pack, like before. It's so 'us' B.
Brigitte: Just say you won't go average on me.
Ginger: Just 'cause some gonad gets his zipper going? I'd rather be dead.
Pamela Fitzgerald: [Happily] Oh my god... Do you think it's cramps?
Ginger: [gagging & spewing] Give it a rest... for two seconds?
Henry Fitzgerald: Pam, we're eating.
Henry Fitzgerald: [Camera slides away from Ginger and B, dragging Trina's body through the backyard, up to the parents' bedroom where Pamela is flipping through "advice" magazines] I think they're up to something.
Pamela Fitzgerald: They're just being normal teenage girls.
Henry Fitzgerald: Then why are they suddenly so interested in what _you_ have to say?
Pamela Fitzgerald: [Shakes her head contemptuously] Stay in your own little world, Henry. This one just confuses you.
Ginger: [as she attacks Trina from the side] Back for more?
Brigitte: What are you doing?
Ginger: I don't know, B. What _am_ I doing? Call Sam. Ask the Pro.
Ginger: You play with your new friends and I'll play with mine
[drags Trina off into the house]
Sam: Biology, now there's something you can sink your teeth into, so to speak. You're real. Your problem is real. The solution is real.
Sam: [waiting in his van, spots Brigitte]
Sam: Why hello, hello, hello.
[gets out of van and follows Brigitte from behind]
Sam: Hey kid, got a smoke?
Brigitte: [turns around quickly] No.
Sam: [pulls cigarette from behind his ear] Got a light then?
Brigitte: [stops and pulls a lighter from her bag]
Sam: Well, thanks. I've just spent a week of my life looking for you, if you could just give me a sec.
Ginger: Pervert, she's fifteen!
Brigitte: Ginger, wait outside for me!
Ginger: Fine. But if he rapes you, don't come crying. I'll be home.
Brigitte: She's just freaking.
Sam: Umm, I don't think of you that way.
[Brigitte looks at Sam, sighs and rolls her eyes]
Ginger: Do you think I want to go back to being nobody? You're fucked!
Mr. Wayne: [after seeing the girls 'death' pictures] I am... disturbed, wasn't I? Clearly, the Fitzgerald sisters worked hard...
[under his breath]
Mr. Wayne: God...
Jason: Can we see the ones with Ginger again?
Pamela Fitzgerald: Your father and I are going to counseling tonight so don't leave the house, they still haven't caught that animal that's loose.
Henry Fitzgerald: They never go anywhere.
Pamela Fitzgerald: You're a big help. As usual.
Trina Sinclair: [about Sam] Don't give her the satisfaction!
Trina Sinclair: For once someone shouldn't give that fucker the satisfaction!
Sam: Understand, you may kill her trying to save her.
Sam: It's for Ginger, isn't it? Look, worst-case scenario, you put her out of her misery. Just as long as you're prepared for that, and I mean, sure. Try to come to that.
Jason: I just got a few questions for her, like uh, I'm growing a goddamn TAIL outta my ass, and I thought she might have a few tips on how to deal with keeping that quiet!
Brigitte: Hurting me won't help.
Jason: See? I'm up to some whack shit right now. I'm way out on the corner of Fucked-Up and Evil. You wanna know what I did for fun last night, huh? I killed my own freakin' dog, OK? Now what am I supposed to do about that, huh?
Ginger: [to Ben and Tim] Hey, you guys seen Jason?
Ben: [notices blood on Ginger's forehead] Umm... you got a little...
Ginger: You guys going to the greenhouse bash tonight?
Ginger: I'm in charge of the prizes.
[she flashes them]
Ginger: You, too, could be a winner.
Mr. Wayne: [Coughs] Ginger. My office. Now.
Jason: Hey, diss me or whatever, but, I got three sisters, and nothing quite takes the edge off like a good toke.
Ginger: Well, maybe I like my edge. Thanks.
Jason: Or maybe you're just chicken to lose it.
Ginger: Get the fuck outta the bathroom! I'm trying to get ready!
Trina Sinclair: Hey, why don't you get your slut-bitch sister a leash.
[Jason and Ginger are about to have sex]
Jason: Don't we need protection?
[Ginger pushes Jason and viciously rips open his shirt]
Jason: Stop! Wait a second.
Ginger: You're fucking hilarious, cave-boy.
Ginger: Y'know, maybe you're right. Maybe I _do_ see a monster. Yeah... It's got these little green eyes...
Brigitte: Oh yeah, like I really wish I were hemorrhaging, hairy, and sucking off Jason McCarty.
Nurse Ferry: A thick, syrupy, voluminous discharge is not uncommon.
Pamela Fitzgerald: Jesus Christ on a bicycle! What the - ?
Ginger: You picked Sam over me, anything that happens now it is your fault!
Brigitte: If you give up now you leave me alone, I would never do that to you!
Ginger: I'm sorry. I'm scared...
Pamela Fitzgerald: Beating up girls? Cutting class? I'm very disappointed in you.
Ginger: [takes a bite of food and drops it on her plate] Wish these were babies legs.
Sam: Okay, we both saw it; what the fuck was it?
Brigitte: It's what you hit.
Sam: I know.
[blows puff of smoke]
Sam: But what the fuck was it?
[Camera rolls by a fence until it comes by Ginger seemingly impaled by the fence, blood everywhere]
Brigitte: [holding camera] Too much blood. And I can see your gonch!
Ginger: [sticking up middle finger] Just do it!
[Sam opens the door to his van]
Sam: The hell you guys doing in here?
Ben: [Greeting him] Sam, The Man.
Jason: Sam, uh, we, we just needed a place to come and smoke.
Sam: Hey, you know, I have an idea. Why don't you guys get the fuck out of my van, assholes! Come on, I'm serious get out! I mean it! Get out!
[On the field hockey grounds, where Brigitte and Ginger are quietly smoking a cigarette, Ginger proposes a spiteful mental game in which they evidently try to top each others' insults about a person and how he or she might die:]
Ginger: Search and Destroy. Go!
[Brigitte glances at the girls who are taking a break in the soccer game to joke and laugh. Trina is a pretty, lively, and popular girl]
Brigitte: Okay. How about Trina Sinclair?
Ginger: Excellent selection. Continue.
Brigitte: Trina Sinclair. D.O.A. at the hair dye aisle. Perished while seeking matching barrettes on nothing but diet pills and laxatives.
Ginger: Likes her shorts stuck up her ass, correct?
Brigitte: Favorite homework excuse: My nail glitter ate it.
[a friend of Trina overhears them trashing her, and goes to report to Trina]
Ginger: Basic pleasure model?
Brigitte: Your standard cum-bucketty date-bait.
Ginger: [Superior but impressed] Good one.
Brigitte: [glancing around again, notices that Trina is looking furiously at them. To Ginger:] Uh-oh.