[Tank Girl is holding the madam of Liquid Silver hostage and is being threatened by the guards.]

Tank Girl: Everybody drop your guns, or I scrape off all her make up!

[Considers the madam's face.] This might take me a really long time.

Tank Girl: Ladies, lock up your sons.

Tank Girl: You gotta think of it like...the first time you got laid. You just gotta go 'Daddy, are you sure this is right?'

Jet Girl: The tank isn't...

Tank Girl: Isn't...

Jet Girl: Isn't...

Tank Girl: Isn't...

Jet Girl: Isn't...

Tank Girl: What!? Come on, just one little adjective and we'll have a whole sentence here. The tank isn't glad. Sad. Mad. Lonely.

Jet Girl: The tank isn't o-operational.

Tank Girl: Cool. So we get a new tank.