Mallrats

"He's Superman. He'd blow a hole through her fallopian tubes."

 

Is that kid still on the escalator? That needs to be stopped, pronto!

 

You fuckers think just because a guy reads comics he can't start some shit?

 

What can I say? I was feeling relaxed. When I feel relaxed, I squirt.

 

Breakfast, shmreakfast. Look at the score, for Christ's sake. It's only the second period and I'm up 12 to 2. Breakfasts come and go, Renee, but Hartford, "the Whale," they only beat Vancouver once, maybe twice in a lifetime.

 

Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn for Sega.

 

You said it was a good size.

 

T.S.: How is it that I go from the verge of hot Floridian sex with Brandi to man of steel coital debates with you in the food court?
Brodie: Cookie stand isn't part of the food court.
T.S.: Of course it is.
Brodie: The food court is downstairs. The cookie stand is upstairs. It not like we're talking quantum physics here.
T.S.: The cookie stands counts as an eatery, eateries are part of the food court.
Brodie: Bullshit. Eateries that operate within the designated square downstairs count as food court. Anything outside, of said designated sqaure, counts as an autonomous unit for mid-mall snacking.

 

Phase one. You take a run at LaFours with a sock full of quarters. I'd do it, but I pulled my back out humpin' your mom last night, NOOCH. You clock him on his headpiece and knock his ass out cold. That's when phase two kicks in. I attack the structure, Wolvie-Berserk style, knock out the fuckin' pin and bickety-bam. The motherfucker is rubble. Hence, no game show.

This is one of many reasons I'm still single. That was from memory.

 

Excellent work, ER.

 

Tell him Steve-Dave...