[
first lines]
Private Detective Visser:
[
narrating] The world is full o' complainers. An' the fact is, nothin' comes with a guarantee. Now I don't care if you're the pope of Rome, President of the United States or Man of the Year; somethin' can all go wrong. Now go on ahead, y'know, complain, tell your problems to your neighbor, ask for help, 'n watch him fly. Now, in Russia, they got it mapped out so that everyone pulls for everyone else... that's the theory, anyway. But what I know about is Texas, an' down here... you're on your own.
Private Detective Visser:
You know, you know, a friend of mine a while back broke his hand and put it in a cast. Very next day, he falls, protects his bad hand, and he breaks his good one. So he breaks it too, you know. So, now he's got two busted flippers. So, I says to him: "Creighton," I says. "I hope your wife really loves you, because for the next five weeks, you can't even wipe your own god damn ass."
[
laughs]
Private Detective Visser:
That's the test, ain't it? Test of true love.
Ray:
If you point a gun at someone, you'd better make sure you shoot him, and if you shoot him you'd better make sure he's dead, because if he isn't then he's gonna get up and try to kill you.
Abby:
I ain't done nothing funny.
Marty:
[
to Ray, out in back of the bar] You think I'm funny, I'm an asshole? No no no... what's funny is HER... what's funny is, I had you two followed, because if it's not you she's sleeping with, it's someone else... what's funny is, when she gives you that LOOK, and says, 'I don't know what you're talkin' about, Ray, I ain't done nothin' funny'... but the funniest thing to ME is... you think SHE came back HERE for YOU... THAT'S what's FUCKIN' FUNNY!
Marty:
I got a job for you.
Private Detective Visser:
Uh, well, if the pay's right, and it's legal, I'll do it.
Marty:
It's not strictly legal.
Private Detective Visser:
[
Thinks for a second] Well, if the pay's right, I'll do it.
[
Visser has just given Marty some bad news]
Marty:
You know... in Greece, they would cut off the head of the messenger that brought the bad news.
Private Detective Visser:
Now that don't make much sense.
Marty:
No. It made them feel better.
Private Detective Visser:
Gimme a call whenever you wanna cut off my head. I can always crawl around without it.
Meurice:
Marty. Thought you were dead. You goin' home?
Marty:
No. I'm staying right here in hell.
Meurice:
Kind of a bleak point of view there, isn't it, Marty?
Marty:
Meurice... I don't want the asshole near my money. And I don't want him in the bar.
Meurice:
[
pause] We get a lotta assholes in here, Marty.
[
last lines]
Abby:
[
after shooting Visser] I'm not afraid o' you, Marty.
Private Detective Visser:
[
laughing hysterically] Well, ma'am, if I see him, I'll sure give him the message.
Ray:
He was alive when I buried him.
Meurice:
JEEEE-zus, I've got a hangover...
[
picks up a bottle of liquor]
Meurice:
... you wanta drink?
Abby:
[
referring to Marty] Fact is... he's ANAL, Ray!
Ray:
Hmmmmm?
Abby:
[
pointing to her forehead] In HERE... Abby, in HERE... I'm anal.
Ray:
Well, I'll be damned.
Abby:
I couldn't believe it myself.
Marty:
[
after Visser agrees to kill Abby and Ray for $10,000] I'll take care of the money, you just make sure those bodies aren't found...
[
starts to turn away, then turns back]
Marty:
... there's a big incinerator in back of my place.
Private Detective Visser:
[
after Marty walks away] Jeeee-sus, you are disgustin'.
Abby:
He took me to a psychiatrist one time, to calm me down... the psychiatrist said I was the healthiest person he'd ever talked to, so Marty fired him.
Ray:
I don't think you can fire a psychiatrist, 'zactly.
Abby:
Well I never saw him again, I can tell you that.
Abby:
I said, "Marty, how come you're anal, and *I* gotta go to the psychiatrist?"
Ray:
What'd he say?
Abby:
Nothing. He's like you, he doesn't say much.
Ray:
Thanks.
Abby:
Except when he doesn't say things, they're usually nasty. When you don't, they're usually nice.
[
grabbing Abby from behind after breaking into Ray's house]
Marty:
Lover boy really oughta lock his door. Lotta nuts out there.
[
Marty gives Visser his money]
Marty:
Count it, and go.
Private Detective Visser:
Naw, I trust you.
[
Visser shoots Marty]
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