Screw you, honey. Boy, if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a queen without a sense of humor. You can die with your secret… miserable piss-elegant fairy.
Do you believe in fairies? Say quick that you believe. And if you do, clap your hands.
Oh, he gave me special instructions back of the pulpit Christmas Eve. He got to howlin’ “Repent! Repent!” and I got to moanin’ “Save me! Save me!” and the first thing I know he rammed the fear of God into me so fast I never heard my old man’s footsteps!
Well my old man spent 14 hours a day down in that subway. He come home at night - 2,3 dollars worth of change stained with shoe polish. Stupid bastard coughed his lungs out from breathing in that wax all day. Even a faggot undertaker couldn’t get his nails clean. They had to bury him with gloves on.
I’m a drag queen, not a transvestite. I don’t buy no housedresses.There is- There is a thing I bought last year for a date at the bistro.
I’d like to know what put the bur under your saddle about me.
I’d tell you to blow it out your ass, but my dick’s in the way.
Sonny, if you shot off your gun the way you do your mouth, we’d all be in hell before morning.
Morning, noon, and night!
But never on a Sunday.
I told that kraut a fucking thousand times that I don’t roll on Shabbos!
The goddamned Germans got nothin’ to do with it!
Well Werner, that’s where you’re wrong, because that’s exactly what I expect. I need to know about Germans hiding in them trees, and you need to tell me, and you need to tell me right now. Now take your finger and point out on this map where this party’s being held, how many’s coming, and what they brought to play with.
You probably heard we ain’t in the prisoner-takin’ business; we in the killin’ Nazi business. And cousin, business is a-boomin’.
I hate Illinois nazis
I loved Al Lipshitz more than I could possibly say. He was a real artistic guy, sensitive, a painter. But he was always trying to find himself. He’d go out every night looking for himself. And on the way, he found Ruth. Gladys. Rosemary. And Irving. I guess you could say we broke up because of artistic differences. He saw himself as alive. And I saw him dead.
The King Under the Mountain is dead, where are his kin that dare seek revenge?
Mr. Hastings, you know everybody around here: Can you tell us who is the dirty stinkin’ lowdown rat that shot our pa?
After a month, you have trapped all the rats, but what do you do then? Throw the drum into the ocean? Burn it? No. You just leave it and they begin to get hungry. And one by one, they start eating each other until there are only two left. The two survivors. And then what? Do you kill them? No. You take them and release them into the trees, but now they don’t eat coconut anymore. Now, they only eat rat.
Nyeh…you dirty rat. I’m gonna do to you like you did to my brother.