Ginger Snaps (2000)
Ginger: [to Brigitte] A girl can only be a slut, a bitch, a tease, or the virgin next door.
Ginger: I get this ache... And I, I thought it was for sex, but it's to tear everything to fucking pieces.
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.
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: I said I'd die for you!
Brigitte: No. You said you'd die with me. Cause you had nothing better to do.
Brigitte: [on suicide note] Long is the way that out of hell leads up to the light.
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: [Playing with a kitchen knife] Wrists are for girls. I'm slitting my throat.
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.
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.
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?
[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?
[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!
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?
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.
[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.
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.
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.
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: [takes a bite of food and drops it on her plate] Wish these were babies legs.
Ginger: Pervert, she's fifteen.
Brigitte: Ginger, wait outside for me!
Ginger: Fine. He rapes you, don't come crying. I'll be at home.
Brigitte: She's just freaking.
Sam: Um, I do not think of you that way.
[Brigitte looks at Sam, sighs and rolls her eyes]
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!
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]
[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.
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: 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.
[Sam is stoned, and has just ran over the werewolf]
Sam: Oh, fuck me.
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.
Nurse Ferry: A thick, syrupy, voluminous discharge is not uncommon.
Pamela Fitzgerald: Jesus Christ on a bicycle! What the - ?
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]
Ginger: You picked Sam over me, anything that happens now it is your fault!
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: Do you think I want to go back to being nobody? You're fucked!
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.
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.
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.
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!
[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.
Brigitte: High school: just a mindless little breeders' machine.
Sam: What are you saying?
Brigitte: You swear you won't call a freak show?
Sam: Yeah. I swear.
Brigitte: I'm changing. Like, right now, and full moons have nothing to do with it.
Sam: You're serious.
Brigitte: [referring to her recent study of werewolf movies] And everything I look at goes: silver bullet in a gun to my head, The End.
Sam: Wow. Well, let's not panic here. I mean, for one, that thing on the road, my van did a pretty good job on it. Without the benefits of silver bullets, so let's just forget the Hollywood rules. There's gotta be a cure, right? Otherwise, there'd be a hell of a lot more of them.
Brigitte: It's like an infection. It works from the inside out; it's like a virus.
Sam: Right, see, 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. Not bam, death by morality call. Then again, when I started that piercing shit? I got infections. Girl says, 'Try pure silver." It cleared up like that.
[snaps his fingers]
Sam: The ancients thought pure metals purified the blood.
Brigitte: They thought leeches did, too.
Sam: They do.
[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!
[Exiting the party]
Ginger: Bee... I can't... I'm turning... too fast.
[Sam hits her with a shovel, and Ginger collapses]
Brigitte: What the hell did you do that for?
Sam: I won't let you do this, Brigitte! You both need help!
Brigitte: You fucking idiot! The cure works. I had to use it on somebody else, but there's more at the house. This is the only way I could get her to come back with me.
Sam: Oh, shit. Well, how was I supposed to know that?
Brigitte: Just help me, okay? Just get her in your truck and drive us home.
Sam: Fine. But she rides in the back.