Steve Eastin: Guard Falzon

Con Air

Guard Falzon

Cyrus Grissom: Guard Falzon?
Guard Falzon: What?
Cyrus Grissom: [in squeaky voice] Oh, stewardess? Stewardess? What's the in-flight movie today?
Guard Falzon: Well, I think you'll like it, Cyrus. It's called "I'll Never Make Love to a Woman on the Beach Again", and it's preceded by the award-winning short, "No More Steak for Me, Ever".
[Guard Falzon walks away chuckling]
Cyrus Grissom: [mumbles] Funny fucker, aren't ya?

Guard Falzon: [after searching him] It smells like someone shit in your mouth.
Pinball: He told me he loved me.

Vince Larkin: [while in the surveillance truck] This one's done it all: kidnapping, robbery, murder, extortion.
Man on P.A.: Foxtrot Charlie, perimeter is secure. You are clear to release.
Vince Larkin: His name is Cyrus Grissom, A.K.A. Cyrus the Virus. Thirty-nine years old, twenty-five of them spent in our institutions. But he's bettered himself inside. Earned two degrees, including his juris doctorate. He also killed eleven fellow inmates, incited three riots, and escaped twice. Likes to brag that he killed more men than cancer.
Guard Falzon: Okay, open wide. Lift your tongue.
Vince Larkin: Cyrus is a poster child for the criminally insane. He's a true product of the system.
Duncan Malloy: What's that supposed to mean?
[to Sims]
Duncan Malloy: What is he, one of these sociology majors who thinks we're responsible for breeding these animals?
Vince Larkin: No, but I can point a few fingers if it would make you feel comfortable.

Guard Falzon: My, my. As I look around, I see a lot of celebrities among us. I see eleven Current Affairs, two Hard Copies and
[looking in Diamond Dog's cage]
Guard Falzon: a genuine Geraldo interviewee. But, I gotta tell you gentlemen, none of this impresses me. Becuase we have rules on this aircraft, and they're gonna be enforced. It's a lot like kindergarten, you'll keep your hands to yourself, you'll keep the decibel level down, and if any of you should feel the need to scream, spit or bite, you'll get the treatment.
Con #2: [spits on Falzon's feet] Fuck you, pig.
Guard Falzon: [to the other guards] Gag and bag this Nazi muffin.
[hits the con and the other guards use tape and put a breathable bag over his head]
Guard Falzon: See, this kinda thing puts me in a foul mood. These rules will be enforced. If there's a hint of trouble, if any of you so much as passes gas in my direction it offends my delicate nasal passages, your testicles will become my personal property.

Cameron Poe: [taking daughter's picture back] Told you I'd get that back.
Guard Falzon: Fuck you, trailer trash!
Cameron Poe: HEY! My mama lives in a trailer! Now put those on! I just saved your life.

Guard Falzon: [searches Poe and finds his picture of his daughter] What's this shit?
Cameron Poe: That's my daughter.
Guard Falzon: Well, I don't care if it's the weeping mama o' Christ, there's no personal possessions on this airplane.
Cameron Poe: Just as long as you know, I'll be getting that back at some point.
Guard Falzon: [raising his voice] Are you telling me what I'm gonna be doing here, numb nuts?