Yeah? Well these lips were on your wife's pussy last night. Why don't you dust that thing...

[Willie has just passed out] Gin:
Look here, get himy 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 3-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! Marcus:
Sketch it up, you Fucking moron. Fucking Leonardo da Vinci. Gin:
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:
Yeah? Well these lips were on your wife's pussy last night. Why don't you dust that thing off once in a while? Asshole!