Helen Drood: How do you do it?

Drood: Do what?

Helen Drood: You walk in and everything falls apart.

Drood: Helen, I just got hit in the nuts with a fucking rubber chicken!

Bean: Daddy likes to tell stories! Mommy says he tells stories all the time.

Mean Drunk: You fuck my wife?

Junkie: What's her name?

Drood: No. Oh, please...

Yolanda Caldwell: You're supposed to say you love me now.

Smiley: Did you love her?

Drood: I don't know. I don't know what that means.

Drood: Listen, Mrs. Raines... I'm propably gonna to be moving from here.

Mrs. Raines: What?

Drood: [shouts] Where's your hearing aid?

Mrs. Raines: What?

Drood: I'll talk to you later.

Mrs. Raines: Mr. Drood!

Drood: I know, that's a new lock.

Mrs. Raines: This is a new lock here.

Drood: Is it? Listen, Mrs. Raines...

Mrs. Raines: I don't have a key for that.

Drood: I made you a key.

Mrs. Raines: If there should be a fire, or something...

Drood: Look, I made you this key!

Mrs. Raines: Do you have one for me?

Drood: [chuckles] Oh, God...

Drood: A shot of tequila.

Bartender: Five bucks

Drood: I'm a friend of Jim's.

Bartender: A friend of Jim's?

Drood: Yeah.

Bartender: Five bucks.

Drood: Five tequilas, then.

Buddy: It ain't the gun that stops us. Huh? We're just chicken shit. See? The lights are on... but nobody's home. Am I right?

Morgue clerk: What is your name?

Drood: Uhm... I'm... a friend.

Morgue clerk: I need your name.

Drood: Nick...

[clears throat]

Drood: ... son. Nixon. Richard Nixon. It's with an X.

Helen Drood: [after catching him with a naked woman] She's a model, right?

Drood: No. She's a secretary.

Bobby Nye: I overpaid a bit for that, but I think its value is about to skyrocket. That's what usually happens when an artist dies.

Drood: Fugitive elf!

Jim Campbell: Helen...

Helen Drood: Drop dead.

Drood: [laughing maniacally] I'm a dead man, Helen!