Charles Schine:
I got all kinds of guilt.
Lucinda Harris:
You're kinda funny, aren't you?
Charles Schine:
You're an easy crowd.
Philippe LaRoche:
[
Holding Charles against a wall] You got put in the wrong fucking prison!
Charles Schine:
LaRoche... I chose this prison.
[
Charles stabs LaRoche with a knife]
Philippe LaRoche:
[
grunting] Fuck... fuck... aw.
[
LaRoche falls to the floor and dies]
Detective Church:
Hey!
Charles Schine:
[
turns around to face Church]
Detective Church:
If you brought that shank in here, it's *pre-meditated* murder. The law don't care who you kill.
[
pauses]
Detective Church:
I guess the law didn't care about Winston, either.
Detective Church:
[
nods to the guard to open the gate and release Schine]
[
last lines]
Amy Schine:
Hey.
Winston Boyko:
Hey Chaz, you feeling ok?
Charles Schine:
Yeah, I'm ok.
Winston Boyko:
You sure? You look like you comin' down with that bug or somethin'.
Charles Schine:
It's nothing.
Winston Boyko:
Nothing? That's what Dick Lumberg said.
Charles Schine:
Who's Dick Lumberg?
Winston Boyko:
Nobody. That mother fucker's dead!
Winston Boyko:
Hey Chaz, you know what my favorite song is? "Get Money", B.I.G, Lil' Kim. My favorite artists, Eddie Money, Al Green and Johnny motherfuckin' Cash, baby. Oh, lemme tell you, my favorite Reverends, Frederick Price and Creflo Dollar.
Charles Schine:
Yes, Winston. I have your money.
Winston Boyko:
Who's talking money here, Chaz? Just trying to make conversation, man.
Charles Schine:
I need to use the bathroom.
Prison Guard at Desk:
I'll alert the media.
[
unrated version]
Lucinda Harris:
I think... I want to fuck you.
Philippe LaRoche:
Here comes the championship fuck!
[
Speaking to Schine about Lucinda]
Philippe LaRoche:
I *loved* her. You just wanted to fuck her.
Charles Schine:
She's a bitch.
Eliot Firth:
She's the worst kind of bitch... she actually has a point.
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