- Dale: [as he avoids looking at her body] Grow up, Andy. So what's she like, this chick, huh? Does she talk like you?
- Andrew: [softly] I suppose so.
- Dale: You can look at me, Andy. Mm. You've never been to a strip club?
- Andrew: No, I haven't.
- Dale: So, how long has she been away?
- Andrew: Six months.
- Dale: You don't worry she's got her legs wrapped around some other guy by now?
- Andrew: No. She's not like that.
- Dale: Like what? Normal?
- Andrew: Like you.
- Dale: Let me tell you something, Andy. They're *all* like me.
- Terry Gilmore: [store clerk] Listen, you either pay me the right money, or I'll call the cops.
- Dale: It's $4.50.
- Terry Gilmore: Fine.
- [picks up the receiver]
- Dale: [looks at him with those big blue eyes] Look, I hate to put you in this situation. But is there anything I might do to square things up?
- Ron: [Andrew tried to phone] You got a death wish, eh? Because I can grant it, dickhead. No worries at all.
- Ron: Fucking love this shit, Andy! How long you reckon she's got, buddy? Three minutes or less? She's dying, Andy! You can run like a bloody rabbit, Andy!