You think I’m a slut or something?
Well, if you say you haven’t, you’re a prude. If you say you have you’re a slut. It’s a trap. You want to but you can’t, and when you do you wish you didn’t, right?
I’m not bad, I’m just drawn this way.
You think she’s got a thing for you, don’t you? That’s cute… but don’t flatter yourself. That one… she’s a waste of ink.
No matter how lonely she may be she keeps men at a distance.
The slow blade penetrates the shield.
Remember, in and out. Like a duck mating.
No time for the ol’ in-out, luv. I’ve just come to read the meter!
Oh, you men are all alike. Seven or eight quick ones and then you’re out with the boys to boast and brag.
I’m sorry, please forgive me. I’m just so close to my menstrual cycle that I could scream!
I set dinner on the dining room sideboard at 6:00. Breakfast is ready at 9:00. I don’t stay after dinner. Not after it begins to get dark. We live in town, nine miles… So there won’t be anyone around if you need help… We couldn’t even hear you. No one could. No one lives any nearer than town… No one will come any nearer than that. In the night… In the dark.
You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?
You know there was a murder around here last night? They found the body this morning. A lady from Scarsdale. I heard it on the radio.
Sure. Wendy from Scarsdale. I had her in the cab once.
All the animals come out at night - whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets. I go all over. I take people to the Bronx, Brooklyn, I take 'em to Harlem. I don’t care. Don’t make no difference to me. It does to some. Some won’t even take spooks. Don’t make no difference to me.
The last time I was in New York, I, uh, kind of broke Harlem.
He’s a sailor, he’s in New York; we get this guy laid, we won’t have any trouble!
Careful there, don’t ruffle me feathers. What am I? I ain’t no physcikisk, but I knows what matters. What am I? I’m Popeye the Sailor. I yam what I yam and I yam what I yam that I yam / And I got a lotta muscle and I only gots one eye / And I’ll never hurt nobodys and I’ll never tell a lie / Top to me bottom and me bottom to me top / That’s the way it is 'til the day that I drop, what am I? / I yam what I yam.
All winter long I got to listen to him gripe about his bowling scores. Now I’m gonna bust your ass for those three bags and I’m gonna nail you for picking your feet in Poughkeepsie.
You don’t just call the police in a third world country and tell them you found eight human heads in your luggage.