Chloe: Isn't it fun?
Ricky Slade: What's that, sweetie?
Chloe: Isn't it fun?
Ricky Slade: What's that?
Chloe: Isn't it fun?
Ricky Slade: What fun?
Chloe: Isn't it fun to paint?
Ricky Slade: To paint? Yeah, I love it! Really calms me down. Frogs aren't purple by the way. Have you ever seen a purple frog?
Ricky Slade: Yeah. Okay, when? When you were asleep?
Ricky Slade: A lot going on. But there always is, isn't there? A lot going on.
Ricky Slade: We don't wanna talk, we wanna scream at people, but we don't wanna listen or problem solve and that's what's frustrating about the fucking dynamic of the group
Max: [midst of instructions for NY trip] Yes, for expenses and such. Now, you'll be contacted on your pager as to where you should go. You each have been given an extra battery, so there is absolutely no excuse as to why a page would not be immediately returned. Am I making myself abundantly clear?
Ricky Slade: Yeah.
Max: You will not carry any other pagers with you. You will not carry anything, for that matter, that I have not just given you.
Ricky Slade: Keys.
Ricky Slade: What about my keys?
Max: You can carry your keys. You will not mention my name or imply that you are in my employ. You will not speak to anyone while you are working. When you are not working, you are considered to be on call and available twenty four hours a day. This means you will not get drunk or do anything that will prevent you from operating in a professional manner. There is already a number in your pager's memory. It is a car service. When they ask you what account, you will respond: 'Cardiff Giant.' They will pick you up and take you anywhere you need to go. In other words, there is no reason why you should not reach any destination that you will be called upon to reach within fifteen minutes. Do you see a pattern forming?
Ricky Slade: Yes.
Max: What is it?
Bobby: You want
Max: Not you. I want Ricky to answer.
Ricky Slade: I get it.
Max: Tell me.
Ricky Slade: Don't worry. I get it.
Max: So tell me how it is.
Ricky Slade: You want
[stop in mid sentence]
Ricky Slade: why are you picking on.
Max: Because you lost my fucking carpet cleaning van and I don't like you. You cocksucker!
Ricky Slade: You wanna bet me that I can't get a gun?
Bobby: You couldn't even get a handjob from the bridge and tunnel posse at the club last night!
Ricky Slade: We need guns.
Bobby: We don't need guns.
Ricky Slade: I'm telling you man, I'm pretty sure we need guns.
Bobby: I listened to them and they specifically said we don't need guns.
Ricky Slade: That's all the more reason why you do need a gun.
Bobby: You couldn't even get a gun.
Ricky Slade: You wanna bet, you wanna bet me if I could get a gun?
Bobby: You couldn't get a handjob from the bridge and tunnel posse.
Ricky Slade: That's because that fuckin' girl had issues with the bathtub and the other thing. Now float me a hundred bucks.
Bobby: For what?
Ricky Slade: You wanna see how fast I can get a gun?
Bobby: What happened to your money?
Ricky Slade: I have it, I have some stuff left.
Bobby: How much?
Ricky Slade: I've got like 80.
Ricky Slade: 80 plus five, I've got five in the room, $85.
Bobby: $85, what happened to the 1500?
Ricky Slade: Well you could have picked up a fuckin' tab once in a while!
Bobby: I picked up half the fuckin' tab!
Ricky Slade: [to Jim the Driver]
[rolls window up]
Ricky Slade: Takin' a time out from you, Jimbo.
Bobby: That's not cool.
Ricky Slade: I don't want him fuckin' looking at me all the time.
Bobby: I don't want him to think your fuckin' blowing me.
Ricky Slade: You're so fucking wierd.
Ricky Slade: Excuse me, what, you don't have to hit me. Excuse me.
Ricky Slade: I'm sweeping, you don't have to hit me with your whip. What do you have a horse outside, don't hit me with the whip please.
Ricky Slade: I don't know why we don't get a drink, sittin' inside this place.
Bobby: Chloe wanted to come here.
Ricky Slade: She doesn't know where the hell she is, Bob. She'd have more fun if we were at Bordner's. She could play the trivia game that she likes or the little racing game thing she does .
Bobby: She's a little girl, little girls don't like going to bars.
Ricky Slade: We had fun. We went to bars when we were kids. Met all the different people. Right? Remember Slimmy?
Salesperson: Excuse me sir, there's no smoking in here.
Ricky Slade: Why, you serving food?
Salesperson: No, it's store policy. And you can't sit at a station without purchasing a ceramic.
Ricky Slade: You believe this shit. I can't sit at a station without purchasing a ceramic. Well, why don't you bring me a ashtray then. Can I color me that, a ceramic ashtray?
Ruiz: Don't "easy Ruiz" me, you turned an Easter egg hunt into a butt-fuck-a-thon.
[Ricky tries to convince Bob they should get a gun]
Ricky Slade: Here's scenario B for you Bob, see how you feel about this one. Now I don't know if you've noticed this or not, but I think I'm starting to get under Ruiz's skin as well, OK? It all started with the whole Red Dragon, or the Welsh guy, whatever, they can play it down all they want but you know 200 grand's a lot of fucking money! It's a fucking lot of money! OK? 200 grand is definitely a lot of fucking money! And now I've got Ruiz calling me fucking Fruit-Pie the fucking magician! Tellin' me that I can't fucking call my main man Max, who fucking sent me out on the fucking operation? And what about the Welsh guy? He's fucking scat all over, they fucking disappear and talk! And you haven't noticed this either but when he's not fucking looking at me or you're fucking doing whatever, I've got fucking Jimmy in the mirror with his shit too. It's fucking coming at me from here, I don't know where it is! It might be coming this way, it might be coming that way, but the fucking shit's coming and I'm not gonna be late for the fucking dance man, I'm not gonna be fucking late for the dance on this one.
Bobby: You're not getting a gun.
Ricky Slade: We're gonna take a break from you Jimmy.
[Rolls up window in limo]
Bobby: Could you not do that?
Ricky Slade: Do what?
Bobby: I don't want him to think that you're blowing me back here.
Ricky Slade: Here's what I'm gonna ask of you... We're going to be spending the night in New York, so it worked out well for all of us. I want you to take it back to the business class, I want you to round up a couple of honeys... At our hotel room we're gonna have kind of a pool party. California gangster-style, you know what I mean? Kick ass pool party thing.
Ricky Slade: OK, Bob, you knocked the Jew's tooth out, right? That's gonna cost Max 8 grand, maybe more than 8 grand. You probably lost him his whole line of clientele too. Plus, you've been fucking up Jess' dancing. Now I think he knows I sold the fucking carpet van, he's been giving me looks and shit which leads to that, OK? Now he can't kill us in Los Angeles cause there's a lot of questions there right? But all of a sudden he flies us out to New York City to do a drop? We don't know what the fuck the drop is, OK? But if we disappeared out here, there's no fucking questions involved in that. There's no questions if we disappear. LA, questions, drop out here, not a lot of questions!
Bobby: How do you come up with this shit?
[after a pottery clerk throws an ashtray on his table]
Ricky Slade: There's a nice way to do that!
[Tipping a waitress]
Ricky Slade: Here's 50 bucks, take this in case I get drunk and call you a bitch later.
[Ricky holds some thugs at bay with a pistol]
Thug: His gun is a fucking starter pistol! I can see the red plug in your fucking barrel!
Ricky Slade: Listen to me, I intentionally make this gun look that way because I am smart.
[Outside of club, Dustin Diamond walks up]
Doorman: You look big man, you been liftin'?
Dustin Diamond: Hey thanks, yeah a little bit. I got a 6 pack, started out with a 40!
Bobby: You're running around like a Puerto Rican on the fifteenth of the month!
Ricky Slade: What are you an odds maker? You're going to work everyone through this thing here? Let me tell you something, fucko, if that motherfucker right there don't take that knife away from my friend's neck, I'll use all six shots to make sure you're dead. Now do you believe it? Do you fucking believe it?
Ricky Slade: Excuse me Honey, umm, where the drinks are concerned, is that a hidden tax? Does that fall under complementary up front service as well or is that something you pay for?
Flight Attendent: Oh no, no, they're complementary. Would you care for another one?
Ricky Slade: They're complementary?
Flight Attendent: Yes.
Ricky Slade: You bet your ass I would.
Ricky Slade: Hey Jimmy, you got my pager number?
Jim the Driver: No, what is it?
Ricky Slade: I don't know, I was kinda hoping you knew.
Ricky Slade: You got an ash tray? How about an ash tray? Can I color me that?
Chloe: Isn't it fun?
Ricky Slade: Isn't what fun?
Chloe: Isn't it fun?
Ricky Slade: What? Isn't WHAT fun?
Chloe: Painting. Isn't it fun?
Ricky Slade: Oh yeah... I love it.
Ricky Slade: And I hope you know frogs aren't purple, you ever seen a purple frog?
Ricky Slade: Oh yeah? When? When you where asleep?
[after being yelled at]
Ricky Slade: Well, that's one way to deal with people...
Ricky Slade: [at Chuck E. Cheese's for Chloe's birthday party when all of the kids have run off and Chuck E. Cheese has come by the table] Ah, there you are. Where were ya five minutes ago, buddy, when the kids were goin' crazy? Huh? Now ya show up? Ok, mousey, I'm tryin' to do a little business here.
[pulls out money and hands it to the mouse]
Ricky Slade: Go run around the parking lot or something. Will ya?
Ricky Slade: [getting dropped off at motel by Bobby] Be right up sweetie.
Bobby: Isn't that the wife from the house?
Ricky Slade: You know how I do.
Ricky Slade: Fucking embarrassing - gotta ride around town on a motorcycle with a guy who doesnt have a fucking shirt on.
Bobby: Suck it up.
Ricky Slade: I'm a tall drink of water, I gotta stretch my shit out.
Bernardo: What is your name?
Bobby: Er, Bobby Ricigliano.
Bernardo: Christ is everyone in this god damned house named Bobby Ricigliano?
Horrace: [walks up to bar] Martel's and coke. One ice cube. In a snifter this time.
Bartender: Snifters are for warm drinks.
Horrace: Yeah, snifters are for cognac.
Bartender: When served warm.
Horrace: What's the matter? You ain't got no snifters in this motherfucker?
Bartender: We have snifters?
Horrace: Then put my Martel's in a snifter.
[bartender walks away to get a snifter]
Horrace: Like I'm gonna break her goddamn snifter.
Flight Attendent: What's your name? Terry.
Flight Attendent: Here's what I'm gonna ask of ya, turns out were gonna be spending the night in NY, so it worked out well for all of us. I want you to take it back to the business class. I want you to round up a couple of honies. At our hotel room were gonna have kind of a pool party. The California gangsta style, you know what I mean, kick ass pool party thing. All right listen asshole. I don't care if your the sultan of Brunei, no man talks to me like that. Now you can either learn some manners or I can make a formal complaint to the airport authorities and we can sort this out while your waiting stand-by for the next flight to Kennedy.
Ricky Slade: Ok yeah?
Ricky Slade: [to Bobby after flight attendant walks away] What does that mean we can sort it out? Does she have to do that so they don't know she's into my shit?
Ricky Slade: [presses stewardess call button] sort it out right know.