Action
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They were all dead. The final gunshot was an exclamation mark to everything that had led to this point. I released my finger from the trigger. And then it was over.
Like, the other day, he posts this picture of his newborn, and I'm all like "Damn, son. That right there is one ugly-ass motherfucker of a baby." And I'm all like "My balls is prettier than that baby", and then I sent him a picture of my balls. "I seen roadkill prettier than that baby. What the hell is wrong with your baby?" And he's all like "Actually, there's a problem with its chromosomes," or something, and it's actually a miracle it survived birth. And I'm all like "It's actually a miracle I survived seeing a picture of its ugly..."
The morning after the night before.
Lester: It's hard to get motivated on a job without financial incentive.
Michael: You can't put a price on freedom.
Trevor: You know what truckers do?
Lamar: Cut up women and get other dudes to jack 'em off?
Lamar: Homie, for a dude that kills dudes and eats dudes and fuck dudes, you talk fruity.
Trevor: It's unconfirmed.
Lamar: What's unconfirmed? The fact that you talk stupid? Or the fact, that you do some messed up shit?
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The FIB? Do I look homosexual? Do you think I care about the size of your Johnson? Now... you can't always tell who the good guys are. I'm not a good guy. But I'm fighting with them, and guess what? So are you.
Michael: I'm trying to relate to you.
Jimmy: No, you're trying to take me on some nostalgia trip. You're such a cliche.
Michael: Oh! says the dope-smoking, game-playing, live-at-home, world-owes-him-a-living millennial.
Look at me. I'm cranked on speed most of the time, but I'm productivity personified.
Michael: Well, I had to. To protect you.
Jimmy: Yeah, keep telling yourself that, when you see their faces every time you close your eyes. Here we are. The bike rental place. Please don't shoot the bike rental guy out of, like, force of habit.
Ah shit, here we go again.
I'll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda.
I'm a well-dressed maniac!
Woozie: One's a fake.
CJ: That's amazing. You didn't even touch them.
Woozie: No. I just took a guess. Why else would he come in with two chips and sound so worried?
Does a polar bear shit in the woods?
