Agent Baker: You going back to DC after this?
Malcolm Little: No, man. Working on this alias for this project I've got in Vegas next year. Cat I like to call Beanie. Ghetto retard, barely educated, brought up in a gang environment.
Agent Baker: Oh, that should be a pretty easy transition for you, then.
Malcolm Little: What? I fucking hate hip-hop.
Agent Baker: You hate hip-hop? Come on.
Malcolm Little: Oh, what? A black man can't hate hip-hop? I bet you tell me my favorite food's watermelon. I just can't live without chicken, huh? Just gonna snatch up my brother badge if I ain't bumping some hip-hop.
Agent Baker: You're putting words in my mouth.
Malcolm Little: Hey, man, listen to me. Hip-hop is the unwanted bastard son of superior musical forms like jazz, blues. These kids don't know anything about Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, but hey, when it's required of me,
Malcolm Little: I be pulling hos out the club, flashing knots and nines on these niggas. You know how I do, pimp.
Agent Baker: Like I said, should be a pretty easy transition for you.
Fritz Tremor: Remember old Bobby Dubap, y'all? Down out of Tulsa? That shitstain got himself keistered with an RPG.
Lester Tremor: Did they fire it?
Fritz Tremor: Fire it?
Fritz Tremor: I'm telling you, boy. I mean, if you took the time now to bother to stuff a collapsible shoulder-launch RPG up somebody's bunghole, don't you think you'd fire it?
Fritz Tremor: Wouldn't you feel just a little let down if you didn't?
Fritz Tremor: Why would you put it up there in the first place?
Lester Tremor: I don't know. You got your thumb up there most of the time. Why don't you tell me?
Lester Tremor: Any one of you want to see my sister's tits?
[fires rocket at agents]
Fritz Tremor: Don't you know, boy, the danger of blood relations? That's what double-fucked the Confederacy. That's how we lost the Civil War. You think you want a whole slew of kids running around whose eyeballs are touching because you can't keep your hands off your sister?
Lester Tremor: [yelling at Baby Boy] Let's go, Sling Blade, shake a leg!"
Baby Boy Tremor: [after spotting circus dwarves] Minotaurs.
Lester Tremor: Minotaurs are cloven-hoofed creatures of mythological origin. You mean miniatures.
Baby Boy Tremor: Yuh.
Kaitlyn 'AK-47' Tremor: [to Lester] You know what he meant.
Baby Boy Tremor: Yuh.
Fritz Tremor: You all be careful. Them clown fuckers can be dangerous, and the little ones can be lethal. I always make it a point not to cross swords with carnies and harlots, but we can use them little boys as a facade, so there we are. Yeah. They're Satan's little secret agents, collecting souls on the side. I saw one of them little bastards levitate one time, took the heart right out of a Great Dane, eat it whole, just like that.
Lester Tremor: You seen what?
Fritz Tremor: Yep.
Lester Tremor: Where'd you see that? Now that must've been a sight to behold.
Fritz Tremor: Yeah. Sent me running for my Bible.
Lester Tremor: You still take comfort in them fables, Daddy?
Fritz Tremor: Don't you blaspheme, boy. Never too old to put you over my knee and beat a reckoning into you.
Kaitlyn 'AK-47' Tremor: You're still scared of clowns, Lester.
Lester Tremor: I ain't scared of them, per se, just very mindful of their movements, that's all.
Fritz Tremor: [looking at map] This town's got more tunnels than Ho Chi Minh's whorehouse. The whole city's a warren of the wicked and depraved.
Kaitlyn 'AK-47' Tremor: [reacting to Lester touching her breast] Speaking of depraved, you lay a paw on me again, I'm gonna shove that RPG where the sun refuses to shine.
Kaitlyn 'AK-47' Tremor: [regarding Lester and Fritz bickering] Y'all are real at each other right now.
Fritz Tremor: Ah, don't pay him no mind. His brother Jeeves, brother Darwin up to stir, see? Now he thinks he's fit, maybe, to take over this clan.
Lester Tremor: I'd rather be incarcerated than have to sit here and listen to your jibberjabber.
Fritz Tremor: Yeah, I can see that. You'd last about one minute up in the pen.
Fritz Tremor: Yeah, you'd really be reckoning with your
[imitates gay voice]
Fritz Tremor: feminine side.
Lester Tremor: Yeah, well, there's gonna be reckoning, old boy, right quick.
Fritz Tremor: [mockingly] "There's gonna be a reckoning, old boy."
Agent Baker: [referring to pornographic magazine being read by Redstone] Good to see you're prepared. Staying focused.
Agent Redstone: Oh, I am. I'm utterly focused on that rack. Is that not a majestic set of tits?
Agent Baker: What? Are you being serious?
Agent Redstone: What?
Agent Baker: You're joking, right?
Agent Redstone: What? What the hell you talking about?
Agent Baker: [leans in and whispers] Vandeven is a transvestite.
Agent Redstone: What?
Agent Baker: Her vagina was made with, like, the scrotum sack. She's, like, 85% man. Come on. Come on, Red.
Agent Redstone: [throws magazine down in disgust] Oh, fuck. Are you serious? I didn't know. Seriously?
Agent Baker: No.
Fritz Tremor: [talking with Lester] That pretend street urchin smells like John Law from here. Probably a couple hawks on the roof. It's time to set your brother loose.
Lester Tremor: [after killing two agents] Injuns two, cowboys zero.
Troy: [Trying to have sex with Ariella, pulls out a wad of cash] Hey, I just got paid alright? Make this shit happen.
Title Card: rather than dashing, gun-toting g-men, most FBI employees are information analysts, sifting through millions of telephone, email, and data transmissions to uncover threats of violent crime, terrorism, and espionage against the United States. / occasionally, bureau members themselves become the target of threats; these require extraordinary precautions, often including top-secret procedures outside the realm of normal protocol. / the unintended consequences of such secret activities are known as 'blowback'.
Jules Scott: [talking over headset] Is this the past or the present you're talking about? And this is real? This is a story, or this is real? I'm working on your man Walter Reed.
Ariella Martinez: Sometimes, true forgiveness has to be forced upon us.
Finbar McTeague: Too much oil.
Ariella Martinez: Excuse me?
Finbar McTeague: You use too much oil. You're wearing Cuopoif, which is a good fragrance for you, but it's being ruined by the oil.
Ariella Martinez: Bravo. You're very good about the perfume, but I don't use oil on my skin.
Finbar McTeague: I didn't mention anything about your skin. I think it's on the gun you're wearing.
News Reporter: South side bar owner Malcolm Little had no idea this morning that his place of business would be the scene of a massive gas leak explosion. Firefighters are on the scene fighting the blaze...