Quotes

Dialogue

Bob Chipeska: Harrison, will you let me explain, please? Financially-- Fired Santa: Well, you get what you paid for, Chipeska. Five Christmases I've been here, and no what. Now you flip me for some stranger who'll do it for peanuts and happens to work with a real midget. Well, let me tell you something, though: nobody cares! Nobody comes for the elf. Santa's main attraction. I do Burl Ives songs. Does this schmoe even play guitar? Bob Chipeska: Look, Harrison, it's not about the money or the midget. Believe me, if it was-- I don't think they like midget. I think you're supposed to call them-- Fired Santa: Oh, just forget it! [Walks away as Willie and Marcus enters the store, then yells to them] Hacks! Bob Chipeska: [to Marcus and Willie] Hi. Bob Chipeska. Welcome. Great photo and resumè, by the way. Marcus: Thanks. You know, we've been at this for a long time and all, so we like to think we do a good job. Bob Chipeska: I'm so glad you two can come at such a short notice. You two are pe

Dialogue

Gin: [smoking a cigarette in his office] "Fuck stick"? Bob Chipeska: Yeah, I know it's odd, but as our security manager, I want you to be well aware of this. His little friend promised he won't say it in front of the children, which is fine. There is an adult's world and a child's world, and that's OK. I'm no censor.

Dialogue

Marcus: It won't happen again. I can promise you that. Willie here has low blood sugar. That's all. Willie: That's right. I forgot to take my pill. Bob Chipeska: It's not just the swearing. Forgive me for prying, but did one of you, um, fornicate... Willie: Fornicate? Bob Chipeska: Yes, with a heavy-set woman in the big-and-tall dressing room? Willie: Look, I've boned a lot of fat chicks in my time, sure. But as far back as I can remember, I've never fornicated anybody. Bob Chipeska: Yes... Well, even still, I think it's best for all parties considered if we... Marcus: If we what? Bob Chipeska: Well, I have somebody else interested in the position. Willie: Before you do something stupid, you might want to think about this shit. Bob Chipeska: What are you talking about? Willie: I'm talking about firing a little black midget. A small, colored, African-American small person. That's what I'm talking about. I'm talking about your face all over goddamn USA Today, that's what I'm talking abou

Dialogue

Marcus: Willie, this has been a long time coming. Every year, you're worse. Every year, you're less reliable. More booze, more bullshit, more butt-fucking. Willie: Sure, the three B's.

Dialogue

Gin: We split the dough right down the middle. Any merchendise you take, I get to look at and cherry pick. Marcus: No. Money is one thing but you ain't getting the sh... Gin: This ain't no Chinese menu, jagoff! I tell YOU how it's gonna be. This is pricks fix! Willie: Pricks fix? Marcus: Ah, he's a fucking moron. Willie: Oh really? Is that how you got the upper hand? Marcus: Fuck you. Willie: Negotiating? Marcus: You don't like it? Next year, fuck off. I can always get another box jockey. Willie: Yeah and I can get another midget too. Marcus: Yeah? Where? You see us hanging off of fucking trees like fucking crab apples?

Dialogue

Sue: You're pretty regular for a Santa. Willie: It's not that much of a big fucking deal. It's just a job, you know what I mean? I'm just an eating, drinking, shitting, fucking Santy Claus. Sue: Prove it. Sue: Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa! Willie: Can't I at least take this hat off? Sue: NO! I love the hat. Willie: Okay.

Dialogue

Sue: I've always had a thing for Santa Claus. In case you didn't notice. It's like some deep-seeded childhood thing. Willie: So is my thing for tits.

Dialogue

Marcus: That's just the kinda shit that's gonna get us pinched. Willie: She said she was 18. Marcus: But you promised no arcades! You said you'd only hustle Big and Tall. Willie: What, you shat me outta your womb? You're my fucking mom now? I don't need any goddamn lectures outta you. I know how to keep a low profile, thank you. [unlocks the stolen BMW] Marcus: [referring to the car] What the fuck is this, Mr. Low Profile?! Willie: Mind your own goddamn business. [opens the driver's side door, and several empty beer bottles and cans spill out onto the ground. Willie gets in, starts the car and drives off] Marcus: [shouting after Willie] Ever hear of the open-bottle law?!

Dialogue

Marcus: You fuck her? Willie: Jesus Christ! Is everything fucking sex with you? Marcus: With me? I fuck one person. I ain't out there serially fornicatin', trying to float my liver drinkin' myself silly cause I can't stand what a piece of shit I am. Willie: What are you? Sigmund "Sawed Off" fuckin' Freud? Marcus: Yeah, that's right, shit for brains. Go ahead, talk about my height. Make it about something safe cause you're an emotional fuckin' cripple. Your soul is dogshit. Every single fuckin' thing about you is ugly.

Dialogue

Woman in Food Court: Look who's here, Jimmy! It's Santa! Willie: [mutters to himself] Great. Fucking great. Woman in Food Court: Let's tell him what you want for Christmas. Willie: [turns to the woman and son] I'M ON MY FUCKING LUNCH BREAK, OKAY?! Woman in Food Court: [offended] Are you insane? Management's gonna hear about this. Willie: Think that's a threat? You really think you can make my fucking life any worse, you go right ahead. Be my fucking guest. Take a shot.

Dialogue

Gin: Look here, get him outta here and I'll go smooth things over with Chipeska. Tell him it was food poisoning or something. Marcus: What do you mean, get him outta here? Gin: Take him to the car. Marcus: In case you didn't notice, I'm a motherfucking dwarf. So unless you got a forklift handy, maybe you should lend a hand, hmm? Gin: That figures. You want all kind of set-asides. Special treatment 'cause you're handicapped. You're all the same. Marcus: Special treatment?! I'm three-foot fucking tall, you asshole! It's a matter of physics. Draw me a sketch of how I get him to the car, huh? Gin: Bitch, bitch, bitch! [picks up Willie] Marcus: Sketch it up, you fucking moron. Fucking Leonardo da Vinci. Gin: [drops Willie] What'd you call me, thigh-high? Marcus: I called you a fucking guinea homo from the 15th-fucking-century, you dickhead! Gin: I could stick you up my ass, small fry! Marcus: Yeah? You sure it ain't too sore from last night? Gin: You got some lip on you, midget. Marcus: Yea

Dialogue

Willie: [upon seeing the safe] Oh shit. Marcus: What? What? Willie: It's a Kintnerboy Redoubt. Marcus: So? Willie: Remember Andy Pitz? Marcus: Andy Pitzerelli, yeah. Willie: No, Andy Repitski. Andy Pitzerelli was Andy Blue Balls. Marcus: Since he got married they called him Andy Pitzerelli. What's your fucking point? Willie: Well they say he can get into anything. Anything. They say he's been in Margaret Thatcher's pussy. Marcus: And that's a good thing? So what the fuck are you getting at? Willie: When I was in the joint with him, he told me the Kintnerboy Redoubt can't be cracked. Marcus: Are you shitting me? Are you telling me that after I propped you up, held you together, smiled for all those kids, danced for all those fuckin' housewives in a fucking lime green fucking velvet elf costume, that you cannot crack this fucking safe? Is that what you telling me? Willie: No, I'm just saying it's gonna take a minute.

Dialogue

Willie: You know, I think I've turned a corner. Marcus: Yeah? You fucking petites now? Willie: No, I'm not talking about that. I beat the shit out of some kids today. But it was for a purpose. It made me feel good about myself. It was like I did something constructive with my life or something, I dunno. Like I accomplished something. Marcus: You need many years of therapy. Many, many, many fuckin' years of therapy.