Louis: I hate cops.
Carl: I hate politicians.
Louis: When I feel like talking to you, I will look at you.
Carl: Seen my gloves, compadre?
James: In the glove compartemente.
Carl: Golf clap?
James: Golf clap.
James: What are you doing?
Carl: I hate shitheads who bully their women.
James: So what are you going to do?
Carl: Shoot him.
Carl: It's the principle, James.
James: With a pellet gun? What are you going to accomplish using that stupid thing?
Carl: It allows me to seriously aggravate a situation without actually changing the course of history. It also stings like a bitch.
James: Carl spends the evening with a beautiful woman and I'm stuck here with a lunatic and a corpse.
Louis: Rent-a-cops! I hate rent-a-cops too.
James: I wanna report a murder and a kidnapping.
Dispatcher: Did they take the body?
James: No, no, no. I have the body.
Dispatcher: Did you kill the victim?
James: No, I didn't kill him.
Dispatcher: Have you been kidnapped?
James: I'm not the one who's been kidnapped. I know this sounds really strange.
Dispatcher: I don't think we can help you, sir.
James: Well, fuck me! Isn't that what the police are supposed to do - help people?
James: What an absolutely gorgeous day. Warm Sun, beautiful women.
Carl: And the air is just right for drinking.
James: Eh, Carl?
James: What did you mean when you said I was hopeless?
Carl: I meant exactly... what I said.
James: I still don't understand.
Carl: Well, let's examine the word: hope-less. Less than hopeful. That's what you are.
James: Am I majorly hopeless or partially hopeless?
Carl: I'd say, majorly. Why do you ask?
James: I'll try and change.
Carl: No, you won't.