Alyssa: Can men fuck each other?
Banky Edwards: Are you asking for my permission?
Banky Edwards: Alright, now see this? This is a four-way road, OK? And dead in the center is a crisp, new, hundred dollar bill. Now, at the end of each of these streets are four people, OK? Are you following?
Holden McNeil: Yeah.
Banky Edwards: Good. Over here, we have a male-affectionate, easy to get along with, non-political agenda lesbian. Down here, we have a man-hating, angry as fuck, agenda of rage, bitter dyke. Over here, we got Santa Claus, and up here the Easter Bunny. Which one is going to get to the hundred dollar bill first?
Holden McNeil: The man-hating dyke.
Banky Edwards: Good. Why?
Holden McNeil: I don't know.
Banky Edwards: Because the other three are figments of your fucking imagination!
[After Banky pulls out a stack of porno magazines from his bag.]
Holden McNeil: Oh my God. Who are you, Larry fucking Flynt? What are you going to do with all of those?
Banky Edwards: Read the articles. What do you think I'm going to do with them? They're stroke books, stupid!
Holden McNeil: You've got like, thirty books there! We're only going to be gone for two days!
Banky Edwards: Variety's the spice of life. I like a wide selection. Sometimes I'm in the mood for nasty close-ups, sometimes I like them arty and air-brushed. Sometimes it's a spread brown-eye kind of night, sometimes it's girl-on-girl time. Sometimes a steamy letter will do it, sometimes - not often, but sometimes - I like the idea of a chick with a horse.
Banky Edwards: Archie is not fucking Mr. Weatherbee!