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Ah-ah, I know what you're thinking. Did he fire six shots or only five? Well to tell you the truth in all this excitement I've kind of lost track myself. But being this is a .44 Magnum - the most powerful hand gun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question, do I feel lucky. Well, do ya punk?
Well I'm all broken up about that man's rights.
Nothing wrong with shooting as long as the right people get shot!
We're not just going to let you walk out of here.
- Who's "we", sucker?
Smith, and Wesson, and me.
Go ahead, make my day.
Do you know the emergency phone number for San Francisco General? Well, why don't you call them right now and have them send down an ambulance. Tell them there's two sorry-looking assholes here with multiple contusions and various abrasions and broken bones.
You forgot your fortune cookie.
It says..."You're shit out of luck."
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I'm here to kick ass and chew bublegum. And I'm all out of bubblegum.
Those alien bastards are gonna pay for shootin' up my ride.
No time to play with myself.
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Ex-squeeze me? Baking powder?
And monkeys might fly out of my butt!
We're not mental of anything, so don't be afraid.
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Eat my shorts.
No way josé.
Cowabunga, dude.
Don't have a cow, man.
Your superior intellect is no match for our puny weapons.
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She's a bigger ripoff than those talk to a nympho in prison hotlines that double charge you on your phone bill when they know you can't do a thing about it cause you can't tell anyone you called them in the first place.... So I heard.
WHAT? You're barely multi-celled.
Sorry, I didn't hear you, I was staring at your breasts.
Actually my biggest fantasy involves you, liver loaf and a pack of starving rotwilers!
(lighting a cigarette)
Throwing my life away on an overpriced marketing phenomena tha will leave me bed ridden, tumorous and politically incorrect.
Beats the heck outt of some quack charging me through the bill, just to grope a bunch of places I don't even touch.... Hardly ever.
Two words... Vivisection volunteer. Sure it hurt, but I'm told as a result of banging me on the head with a large hammer & then slicing open my stomach & digging around in my insides they were able to rule out two theories on why fat people perspire.
Funny is a wiffle ball bat in the gazongas, or a little super glue on a tooth brush..
I appreciate the compliment, but I don't swing that way.
A cursory olfactory analysis of this woman's sweat glands indicates that decades of alcohol ingestion have permeated her cellular structure and made her a prime candidate for spontaneous combustion.
The effect of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick.
Damn it feels good to be a hamster.