They damaged my stuff. They smash up my home. Damage my soul. Look at this... This, this, this, this statue here of Impotent Rage. This fucking meant more to me than Johnny K meant to anyone! And they smashed it! Those pathetic, midlife crisis, hog-riding, shaven-headed, fruity leather-chap-wearing fucking assholes!

Floyd: Wade, I heard you was off smoking meth somewhere.
Trevor: No, not somewhere, here. He's gonna smoke meth here. Get me a fucking lighter.
Floyd: You can't smoke here.
Trevor: Okay.

Trevor: I asked for a fair day's pay for a fair day's work. Well, he kinda got a little angry. So, I admit, I kinda got a little angry too.
Michael: Did you kill him?
Trevor: What kinda fucking animal do you take me for? No, I didn't kill him!

Michael sighs with relief

Trevor: But I did kidnap his wife.

Now go! I need to meditate. Or masturbate. Or both.

I think that I would recognize my own underwear, now give them back!