Everybody relax, I'm here.

Of course, if I was one of them, these people that you just assume are your enemies, what would I do? There would be no balloon so I would draw them out to a really secluded place, like a cave or some underbrush, a good place for a trap... an ambush. And when your friends got there a bunch of my people would be waiting for them. Then they would use them to trade for me. I guess it's a good thing I'm not one of them, huh? You guys got any milk?

Kitten, I think what I'm saying, is that sometimes, shit happens, someone has to deal with it, and who ya gonna call?

Those other folks need to pretend to be someone else to be cool...

Did IQs just drop sharply while I was away?

You just keep thinkin;, Butch... cuz that's what your good at...

They don't advertise for killers in the newspaper. That was my profession. Ex-cop. Ex-blade runner. Ex-killer.

I could have killed 'em all, I could kill you. In town you're the law, out here it's me. Don't push it. Don't push it or I'll give you a war you won't believe. Let it go. Let it go.

You're pretty scared, huh? Scared, you understand scared, don't you? Huh? If you ain't, you're going to be, Bruce. Folks down on the beach might have been doctors and accountants a month ago, but it's Lord of the Flies time, now.

I'm surprised you haven't heard of me, I got a bad reputation, like sometimes I just go nuts like now ha ha!

Yippie-kai-yay, motherf**ker.

Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.

Alright you Primitive Screwheads, listen up! You see this? This... is my boomstick! The twelve-gauge double-barreled Remington. S-Mart's top of the line. You can find this in the sporting goods department. That's right, this sweet baby was made in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Retails for about a hundred and nine, ninety five. It's got a walnut stock, cobalt blue steel, and a hair trigger. That's right. Shop smart. Shop S-Mart. You got that?

There I was. Face-to-face with the mother of all ugly. So I say "Come get some", and BLAM, no more Mr. Nasty Face.

When you've just emptied two barrels of a shotgun into the head of your favorite bartender it's a pretty good bet that happy hour's over.

"Hey, can I borrow your face? My ass is on vacation."

"Butt and Ugly decided to have a kid and guess what. You're the result."

"Can't you see I just want to be left alone? No? Well maybe if I shoved your eyeballs back in first..."