Reservoir Dogs

Mr. Pink: Hey, why am I Mr. Pink?
Joe: Because you're a faggot.
Mr. Pink: Why can't we pick our own colors?
Joe: No way, no way. Tried it once, doesn't work. You got four guys all fighting over who's gonna be Mr. Black, but they don't know each other, so nobody wants to back down. No way. I pick. You're Mr. Pink. Be thankful you're not Mr. Yellow.
Mr. Brown: Yeah, but Mr. Brown is a little too close to Mr. Shit.
Mr. Pink: Mr. Pink sounds like Mr. Pussy. How 'bout if I'm Mr. Purple? That sounds good to me. I'll be Mr. Purple.
Joe: You're not Mr. Purple. Some guy on some other job is Mr. Purple. You're Mr. PINK.
Mr. White: Who cares what your name is?
Mr. Pink: Yeah, that's easy for you to say, you're Mr. White. You have a cool-sounding name. All right look, if it's no big deal to be Mr. Pink, you wanna trade?
Joe: Hey! NOBODY'S trading with ANYBODY. This ain't a goddamn fucking city council meeting, you know. Now listen up, Mr. Pink. There's two ways you can go on this job: my way or the highway. Now what's it gonna be, Mr. Pink?
Mr. Pink: Jesus Christ, Joe, fucking forget about it. It's beneath me. I'm Mr. Pink. Let's move on.
Joe: I'll move on when I feel like it... All you guys got the goddamn message?. I'm so goddamn mad, hollering at you guys I can hardly talk. Pssh. Let's go to work.

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Mr. White: If you shoot me in a dream you better wake up and apologise.

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Joe: Hey, I've changed my mind. Shoot this piece of shit, will ya?

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Mr. Blonde: You kids shouldn't play so rough. Somebody's gonna start cryin'.

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Mr. Blonde: Listen kid, I'm not gonna bullshit you, all right? I don't give a good fuck what you know, or don't know, but I'm gonna torture you anyway, regardless. Not to get information. It's amusing, to me, to torture a cop. You can say anything you want cause I've heard it all before. All you can do is pray for a quick death, which you ain't gonna get.

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Mr. Blonde: Eddie, if you don't stop talking like a bitch, I'm gonna slap you like a bitch.

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Nice Guy Eddie: The chick got tired of him beating her, so one night she walks in the guy's bedroom and took some wacko glue and glues his dick to his belly. I'm serious, I'm dead serious. They had to call the paramedics to cut the prick loose, literally.
Mr. White: Was he all pissed off?
Nice Guy Eddie: How would you feel if every time you had to take a piss you had to do a fuckin' handstand?

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Mr. Pink: I can say I definitely didn't do it because I know what I did or didn't do. But I cannot definitely say that about anybody else, 'cause I don't definitely know.

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Mr. Pink: Do you know what this is? It's the world's smallest violin playing just for the waitresses.

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Mr. White: If you shoot this man, you die next. I repeat. If you shoot this man, you die next.

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Mr. Pink: We still gotta get outta here.
Mr. Blonde: We're gonna sit here and wait.
Mr. White: For what, the cops?
Mr. Blonde: Nice Guy Eddie.
Mr. Pink: Nice Guy Eddie? What makes you think he isn't on a plane half way to Costa Rica?
Mr. Blonde: 'Cause I talked to him and he said he was on his way down here.
Mr. White: You talked to Nice Guy Eddie? Why the fuck didn't you say that in the first place?
Mr. Blonde: You didn't ask.
Mr. White: Hardy fuckin' har.

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Mr. Brown: I'm blind, man. I'm fucking blind.
Mr. Orange: You're not blind, you've just got blood in your eyes.

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Mr. Pink: For all I know, you're the rat.
Mr. White: For all I know you're the fucking rat!
Mr. Pink: All right, now you're using your fucking head!

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Marvin: I already told you I don't know anything about any fucking setup; you can torture me all you want.
Mr. Blonde: Torture you? That's a good idea. I like that.

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Nice Guy Eddie: C'mon, throw in a buck!
Mr. Pink: Uh-uh, I don't tip.
Nice Guy Eddie: You don't tip?
Mr. Pink: Nah, I don't believe in it.
Nice Guy Eddie: You don't believe in tipping?
Mr. Blue: You know what these chicks make? They make shit.
Mr. Pink: Don't give me that. She don't make enough money that she can quit.
Nice Guy Eddie: I don't even know a fucking Jew who'd have the balls to say that. Let me get this straight: you don't ever tip?
Mr. Pink: I don't tip because society says I have to. All right, if someone deserves a tip, if they really put forth an effort, I'll give them something a little something extra. But this tipping automatically, it's for the birds. As far as I'm concerned, they're just doing their job.
Mr. Blue: Hey, our girl was nice.
Mr. Pink: She was okay. She wasn't anything special.
Mr. Blue: What's special? Take you in the back and suck your dick?
Nice Guy Eddie: I'd go over twelve percent for that.

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Mr. Pink: We were set up. The cops were waiting for us.
Nice Guy Eddie: What? Nobody set anybody up.
Mr. Pink: The cops were there waiting for us!
Nice Guy Eddie: Bull shit!
Mr. Pink: Hey, fuck you, man! You weren't there - we were! And I'm tellin' ya, the cops had that store staked out.

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Joe: So, you guys like to tell jokes, huh? Gigglin' and laughin' like a bunch of young broads sittin' in a schoolyard. Well, let me tell a joke. Five guys, sittin' in a bullpen, in San Quentin. All wondering how the fuck they got there. What should we have done, what didn't we do, who's fault is it, is it my fault, your fault, his fault, all that bullshit. Then one of them says hey. Wait a minute. When we were planning this caper, all we did was sit around tellin' fuckin' jokes! Get the message? Boys, I don't mean to holler at ya. When this caper's over - and I'm sure it'll be a successful one - we'll get down to the Hawaiian Islands, hell, I'll roll and laugh with all of ya. You'll find me a different character down there. Right now, it's a matter of business.

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Nice Guy Eddie: Okay, first things fuckin' last!

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Nice Guy Eddie: Alright, Mr. Fucking Compassion! I will call somebody!
Mr. White: Who?
Nice Guy Eddie: A fucking snakecharmer! What do you think? I'll call a doctor!

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Mr. Pink: Where's the commode in this dungeon? I gotta take a squirt.

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Mr. White: You can't leave this guy with them.
Nice Guy Eddie: Why not?
Mr. White: Because he's a fucking psycho. And if you think Joe's pissed off, that ain't nothing compared to how pissed off I am at him, for putting me in the same room as that bastard!
Mr. Blonde: See what I've been putting up with, Eddie? I fucking walked in here, I told these guys about staying put. Mr. White whips out his gun, he's sticking it in my face, calling me a motherfucker, saying he's gonna blow me away and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

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Joe: Give me that book.
Mr. White: Are you gonna put it away?
Joe: I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want with it.

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Nice Guy Eddie: If you fucking beat this prick long enough, he'll tell you he started the goddamn Chicago fire, now that don't necessarily make it fucking so!

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Mr. Pink: I don't wanna kill anybody. But if I gotta get out that door, and you're standing in my way, one way or the other, you're gettin' outta my way.

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Mr. White: The choice between doing ten years and taking out some stupid motherfucker, ain't no choice at all. But I ain't no madman.

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Joe: He was the only one I wasn't 100% on. I should have my fuckin' head examined, going on a plan like this when I wasn't 100%.
Mr. White: That's your proof?!
Joe: You don't need proof when you have instinct.

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Mr. Blonde: Are you gonna bark all day, little doggie, or are you gonna bite?

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