The Losers (I) (2010)
Jensen: I'm warning you, I am a lethal killing machine. It was a secret government experiment. They did stuff to me. Spooky stuff... Anal stuff. It turned me into a dangerous telekinetic. As the ancient Tibetan Philosophy states "Don't start none, won't be none!"
Pooch: Oh my God, I'm the black MacGyver.
Jensen: Did you know that cats can make one thousand different sounds and dogs can only make ten? Cats, man. Not to be trusted.
Pooch: You know what? Do me a favor - NEVER say that again.
Jensen: [Aisha has the Losers in a Mexican standoff] Ohhhh... shit. She's got a gun and... it's pointed at my dick. Clay, it's pointed at my dick!
Pooch: Would you rather it was pointed at your face?
Jensen: I know it makes no sense, but yes!
[Aisha points her gun at Jensen's face]
Jensen: Not really...
Clay: Where's your gun, Jensen?
Jensen: It's in the van.
Clay: What's it doing there?
Jensen: Not... much.
[Aisha rolls her eyes]
Roque: Will you two shut up?
Jensen: Well, what if it was pointed at YOUR dick?
[Aisha shoots Jensen in the arm]
Jensen: Legless Pooch and I are on it!
Pooch: Call me 'Legless Pooch' again, and you're gonna be 'Headless Jensen'
Jensen: I think it's a cool name, makes ya sound like a pirate.
Pooch: Ya mama's a pirate.
Jensen: [women are looking at Jensen, who is undressed in an elevator] So... you, uh, ladies liking the angle of the dangle?
Roque: [Seeing Jenson's Pink Petunia shirt] Am I the only one who sees this shirt?
Jensen: Oh, yeah. It's my niece's little league soccer team, the Petunias, they're in the finals, so I...
[the whole team walks away in disgust]
Jensen: They're... they're in the finals!
Pooch: The Pooch may lie, the Pooch may steal, the Pooch may...
Jensen: The Pooch may refer to himself in the third person?
Pooch: Occasionally, but the Pooch will not cheat.
Jensen: The Pooch can relax. I was worried about Cougar.
Pooch: Yeah, right, it's always the quiet ones.
Pooch: Okay. You know that if we do this, we are waging a war against the Central Intelligence Agency.
Cougar: They started it.
Roque: Okay, you stay with us. But if anything smells like a trap, I get to put a bullet in your skull. Does that sound fair?
Aisha: That sounds fun.
Jensen: Sounds like my parents...
Clay: Jensen, are we wired?
Jensen: [disguised as a street vendor] Max is westbound... and these hot dogs are *delicious!*
Aisha: [as their chopper is sprayed with .50 caliber machine gun fire] WHOA! I though you said small arms weren't a problem.
Pooch: That look like small arms to you? Huh? That's a cannon.
Pooch: That's a CANNON!
Aisha: Doughnut doughnut DOUGHNUT!
[Both scream as they graze a Dunkin' Donuts sign]
Aisha: Are you SURE you've done this before?
Pooch: Okay. Right now? Not the time. Not the time right now.
Clay: Pooch, what's your status?
Pooch: Well, I'm completely irritated and possibly crashing.
Clay: Pooch, can you stand?
Pooch: Oh. Oh, this is Stupid Question Day. This is Stupid Question Day, and nobody decided to tell me! Naw, that's cool. It's all good.
Jensen: Come on, Legless Pooch, I got ya.
Pooch: [Finding a broken down yellow school bus in their search for an escape vehicle] Ah!
Pooch: Why not!
Jensen: Can you?
Pooch: Of course!
[Cougar takes down Wade and Roque with the same bullet]
Roque: Come, on, Clay! Look around you. I mean, do you think we're in a position to actually take on some CIA super-spook?
Roque: It's a hell of a plan. You know what? Pooch could set up over there by the taco stand, and Jensen could set up communications right there by the hookers.
Aisha: [whistles at the sight of Clay's Bolivian hotel room] Wow. It's everything a girl can dream of. Do you have a bathroom?
Clay: No, I specifically requested the only hotel room in the world that doesn't have a bathroom.
Aisha: Here's the deal: I get you and your men back in the States. In exchange, you get Max for me.
Clay: What's the catch, lady?
Aisha: It's pretty much a suicide mission.
Clay: And why should I trust you?
Aisha: Because if I were lying, I wouldn't have used the words "suicide mission."
Jensen: So, she wanted to meet in a cemetery? That's not, like, foreboding at all...
Clay: What do you have on her?
Jensen: Besides a pant-bustin' crush? Her Company file is blank. CIA has a standing kill order on her, as does Hamas, Sinn Fein... pretty much everyone with the exception of PETA wants this chick am-scrayed.
Roque: Think you're thinking clear on this? Huh? 'Cuz every time we mess up, it's because of a woman.
Clay: Name one time that I...
Clay: Amber wasn't the problem, Amber's husband was the problem.
Pooch: Amber's husband wasn't the one who shot you.
Clay: It was only in the leg.
Jensen: What about Emma?
Clay: Emma doesn't count. I didn't sleep with Emma.
Roque: No, because she put a bomb in your car!
Clay: All right, I admit - that did take a little of the romance out of it.
Clay: I'm clear, Roque.
Roque: Well, you better be, because I ain't getting killed by no girl.
Aisha: [coming up behind them] Been a long time since anyone called me a girl.
Aisha: She put a *bomb* in your car?
Clay: She was volatile.
Max: I'm saving the country, Wade - doing something for the benefit of the United States of America.
Wade: I was born in Quebec.
Max: Okay... then we're saving *North* America.
Jensen: [trying to hit on Aisha] Hi.
[Aisha, cleaning her gun, ignores him]
Jensen: Where are you from? Originally?
Aisha: The wilds of Northern Africa.
Jensen: Wow. So that must have been... sandy...
Jensen: Do you have any hobbies?
Aisha: When I was little, I collected human ears.
Max: What do you know about deep-space tachyons?
Max: Base-particle string theory?
Max: Singularity events?
Wade: Not a ton.
Max: I think we should move on, then.
Max: What the hell am I looking at here, Wade?
Wade: Clay and his unit.
Max: "Clay and his unit?" That sounds like a porno, Wade.
Wade: You had them killed four months ago.
Max: I've done a lot in four months, Wade. I'm a very busy man.
Jensen: Can you stand?
Pooch: I've been shot in *both* of my legs. What kind of dumb-ass question is that, really?
Jensen: So now we're Mister Grumpy-pants? You know, you're not the only one who got shot today.
Jensen: Clay, we've got a situation here. I'm looking at a giant vibrating Easter egg from Hell, and no Max.
Jensen: [describing a CIA heroin smuggling operation] So they're selling shit to the American people to raise money to protect the American people from the guys they produce the shit they're selling them in the first place. This is fucked up on so many levels, man...
Roque: Gee, I hope they don't see us sitting in this bright yellow Pinto.
Clay: Are you ashamed to be seen in an American classic?
Aisha: So what brings you to Bolivia?
Clay: Cruise ship.
Aisha: We're a landlocked country.
Clay: Yeah, well... it's an amazing cruise ship.
Clay: How'd you know we were alive?
Aisha: Counted the number of teeth in the chopper wreckage. Plus you guys aren't exactly subtle.
Max: It's like giving a handgun to a six-year-old, Wade - you don't know how it's gonna end, but you're pretty sure it's gonna make the papers.
Max: Okay, so five dead men hijacked you, Wade. Did you happen to find out who's behind them?
Wade: Not the CIA, NSA, Special Ops...
Max: Yeah, I'm aware it's not us.
Pooch: All right, look. We're not going anywhere until you two squash this bullshit.
Clay: Pooch, we're on a schedule here. Let's go.
Pooch: [imitating Clay] Oh, "we're on a schedule?"
[Yanks the keys out the ignition, looks pointedly at Clay and Roque]
Clay: [sighs] Roque... I'm sorry I hit you in the face.
Pooch: [laughing] Oh. That was good. That was good. Roque? ROQUE?
Roque: Clay... I'm sorry I threatened to cut your head off.
Pooch: VERY good! Wow. Don't you two feel so much better?
Pooch: I don't give a shit. I say we go watch Jensen get himself killed, yeah?
Vikram: Do you have the money?
Max: Jesus! Always with the money. "Hi, how are ya? How've you been? Namaste?
Vikram: I recently attended the funeral of my best friend, who you had thrown off a roof. How have *you* been?
Max: I can't complain. Actually, I'm thinking about getting a satellite radio for my car.
[looks at Vikram's fellow scientist]
Max: God, you ARE short. Seriously, how much do you weigh? Are you standing in a hole?
Vikram: We have your ordinances.
Max: All righty. Let's make a cash withdrawal, and
[in bad Hindu accent]
Max: Who wants to be a billionaire?
Max: [as Clay drives off his helicopter with a blast of machine gun fire] That was my ride.
Vikram: [after his former boss had been thrown off a roof] Thank you for agreeing to meet us on a short structure.