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A murder mystery brings together a private eye, a struggling actress, and a thief masquerading as an actor.
Perry: My $2000 ceramic Vektor my mother got me as a special gift. You threw in the lake next to the car. What happens when they drag the lake? You think they'll find my pistol. Jesus. Look up "idiot" in the dictionary. You know what you'll find? Harry: A picture of me? Perry: No! The definition of the word idiot, which you fucking are!
Perry: We gotta move her somewhere. You got gloves? Harry: Excuse me? Perry: Gloves. Do you have gloves? You have to move her. If it's a frame-up, some asshole's probably calling the cops on you right now. Do this: wrap up the body in a blanket, a sheet, anything. Harry: Okay, any particular kind of gloves? Perry: Yes, fawn. Will you fucking hurry! Harry: Perry? Perry: Yeah? Harry: I peed on it. Perry: What? You peed on what? Harry: I peed on the corpse. Can they do, like, ID from that? Perry: I'm sorry, you peed on...? Harry: On the corpse. My question is... Perry: No, my question, I get to go first: Why in pluperfect hell would you pee on a corpse? Harry: I didn't intend to! It's not like I did it for kicks!
Perry: Go. Sleep badly. Any questions, hesitate to call. Harry: Bad. Perry: Excuse me? Harry: Sleep bad. Otherwise it makes it seem like the mechanism that allows you to sleep... Perry: What, fuckhead? Who taught you grammar? Badly's an adverb. Get out. Vanish.
Harry: Well what I'm doing for the guy who likes to bluff is I'm playing a little game called "Am I Bluffing?" [Loads one round into the revolver to play Russian Roulette] Harry: Where is she? Where the fuck is Harmony? You want to play hardball? I can do that. [Spins the chamber and points the gun] Harry: Where is the girl? [Shoots the guy in the head] Perry: [Stuttering at first] What did you just do? Harry: [Confused] I just put in one bullet, didn't I? Perry: You put a live round in that gun? Harry: Well yeah, there was like an 8% chance. Perry: Eight? Who taught you math!
Harry: Do you think I'm stupid? Perry: I don't think you'd know where to put food at, if you didn't flap your mouth so much. Yes I think you're stupid.
Harry: Yeah, boo, hiss, I know. Look, I hate it too. In movies where the studio gets all paranoid about a downer ending so the guy shows up, he's magically alive on crutches, I hate that. I mean shit, why not bring them all back. [Everyone who has been killed starts meandering into the hospital room, including Abraham Lincoln; a nurse shoos them all out again] Harry: But the point is in this case, this time, it really happened. Perry, like, lived. Yeah, it's a dumb movie thing, but what do you want me to do, lie about it?
Harry: Don't worry, I saw Lord of the Rings. I'm not going to end this 17 times.
Perry: [to the audience] Thanks for coming, please stay for the end credits, if you're wondering who the best boy is, it's somebody's nephew, um, don't forget to validate your parking, and to all you good people in the Midwest, sorry we said fuck so much.
Harry: Still gay? Perry: Me? No. I'm knee-deep in pussy. I just like the name so much, I can't get rid of it.
Harry: What is it out here with these women? Harmony: Oh please, Harry, they're no different from anywhere else. Harry: Yes, they are. These are damaged goods, every one of them, from way back. I'm telling you, you take a guy who sleeps with 100 women a year, go into his childhood - dollars to doughnuts, it's relatively unspectacular... Harry: [putting a cigarette in his mouth] ... Now, you take one of these... gals, who sleeps with 100 guys a year, and I *bet* you if you look in their childhood, there's something rotten in Denver. Harmony: Denmark. Harry: [closing his cigarette lighter] That too! But it's abandonment, it's abuse, it's, "My uncle put his ping-ping in my papa!"... and then they all come out here! Harry: [continuing] I mean, it's literally like someone took America by the East Coast and *shook* it, and all the normal girls managed to hang on. Harmony: OK, everyone who hates Harry raise your hand! [all the girls in the club raise their hands] Perry: See that? Obedient little bitches too. [girl screams "Fuck you!" and throws a glass, which he dodges]
Perry: Merry Christmas, sorry I fucked you over. Harry: No problem. Don't quit your gay job.
Perry: You don't get it, do you? This isn't "good cop, bad cop." This is fag and New Yorker. You're in a lot of trouble.
Harry: [after Perry removes a gun from his crotch after shooting their captor] Wow! I was glad you had a gun in there. For a second, I actually thought you could do that, like it was some big gay thing.
Perry: Okay, you've got 30 of my fucking seconds. Thrill me.
Perry: Harmony was right, her sister was murdered. You pulled the trigger. It just took this long for the bullet to hit.
Harmony: [naked in bed] You can sleep here if you want but it would only be sleeping, Harry... if thats gonna frustrate you. Harry: [pause] Let's see.
Perry: How about you, Harry, did your father love you? Harry: Ah, sometimes, like when I dressed up like a bottle. How about yours? Perry: Well, he used to beat me in Morse code, so it's possible, but he never actually said the words.
Harry: Look, you want to see something cool? [Harry pulls out a copy of a Gossamer book with a hole in it] Harmony: Oh cool! This stopped the bullet, Harry. [Harmony pokes her finger through the hole in the book. Harry taps his bullet wound] Harry: No, not really.
Harry: She had something, that gal tonight, this quality. You know, like the girl from high school, the one that got away that - you know what I mean? - that haunts you still. Perry: Yeah, I had that. Harry: You did? Perry: Bobby Mills. Harry: Eugh. Hunh. Well, maybe you should try to get in touch with him. I got 5 bucks says you could still get him. Perry: Really? That's funny. I got a 10 says pass the pepper. I got two quarters sing harmony on "Moonlight in Vermont". Harry: What? Harry: Talking money. Harry: A talking monkey? Perry: A talking monkey, yeah, yeah. Came here from the future. Ugly sucker. Only says "ficus".
Harry: Oh Wow. Woo. It's tiny. Is this real? Perry: Yeah, it's a Derringer. It's loaded. I call it my faggot gun. Harry: Because... Perry: Because its only good for a couple shots, then you gotta drop it for something better. You asked, Chief.
Harmony: Well, for starters, she's been fucked more times than she's had a hot meal. Harry: Yeah, I heard about that. It was neck-and-neck and then she skipped lunch.
Harry: Is she a looker? Perry: She opens the door, and she got nothing on but the radio. Yeah, invites me to sit down, sits on my lap, fires up a spliff. Harry: Geez. Really? Perry: No. Idiot.
[Harry catches Agent Type feeling up Harmony, who's passed out] Harry: You know what? You'd better be her doctor. [Agent Type looks up, busted] Harry: Walk away, don't think, just do it. Agent Type: What are you, her brother or something? It's none of your business, man. I will fuck you up. Harry: [coolly] No. You'll try, and that little experiment will end in tears, my friend. So, again for the cheap seats, do not think, walk the *fuck* away - or let's you and me go outside right now. It's past my bedtime. Make a choice. [Cut immediately to Harry on the ground, getting savagely beaten by the Agent Type]
Perry: [Calling Harmony after escaping torture with Harry] Hey, Harmony, it's me. Harmony: Oh, God, how did you get away? Perry: I shot him with a small revolver I keep near my balls.
Harry: [voiceover] I sent Harmony home believing A, we'd meet tomorrow to go over her case, and B, I'm not actually gay. Please do not ask me how I did B.
Perry: He called her a... well, a bad word. [pause] Perry: Cunt.
Harry: Wow, I feel sore. I mean physically, not like a guy who's angry in a movie in the 1950's.
Harry: [after overpowering and pistol-whipping a guy who'd had a gun on him and Perry] Doesn't that suck? I just hit you for no reason. I don't even know why.
Harry: Is she dead? Perry: No, she's just resting her eyes for a minute. Of course she's fucking dead, her neck's broken.
Harry: [narrating] Anyway, by now you may wonder how I wound up here. Or, maybe not. Maybe you wonder how silly putty picks shit up from comic books. The point is, I don't see another Goddamn narrator, so pipe down.
Harmony: You think I'm amazing. You do. Cause that's who I told you I'd be. That was the game plan. Harry: Yeah, well, you know what, it worked. Harmony: You know what? No one else thinks so. Harry: What, my opinion doesn't count? Harmony: Actually, no it doesn't. Cause you're new here. If you just look around, there's younger and there's better. Harry: I don't want younger and better, I want you!
Perry: I want you to picture a bullet in your head. Can you do that for me?
Harry: [narrating] I tell him about destiny; he's shaking his head. About dreamgirls; he doesn't care. I mention the underwear thing? He has a *fucking conniption*. And you? How 'bout it, filmgoer? Have you solved the case of the - the dead people in L.A.? Times Square audiences, please don't shout at the screen, and stop picking at that, it'll just get worse.
Perry: Rule number one: this business, real life, it's boring. Do you have to smoke? Harry: You want me to put it out? Perry: Yeah, soon as you find a large, brown clump of shrubs, just throw it in there.
Perry: Rule number 1... Harry: Yeah. Perry: This business. Real life, boring.
Perry: Do not play detective. This is not a book. This is not a movie.
Harmony: God, Harry. Shit, if I leave you the keys, can you take yourself to the hospital?
Harry: Umm, clearly I'm interrupting. I feel badly. Let me... What are you drinking? Harmony: Bad. Harry: Bad? Sorry... feel...? Harmony: You feel bad. Harry: Bad? Harmony: Badly is an adverb. So to say you feel badly would be saying that the mechanism which allows you to feel is broken.
Perry: [on the phone] What do you mean they gave her back?
Harry: Hey, hey, hey! It's Christmas, where's my present, Slick? Perry: Your fucking present is you're not in jail, fag-hag.
Harry: Watch your hand. [Harry slams the door in Harmony's face]
Mr. Frying Pan: Well now, here we all are. Ike, Mike and Mustard. Harry: What the hell does that mean? Mr. Fire: You know, I'm with him on this one man, that's pretty fuckin' obscure. Mr. Frying Pan: Horseshit, I hear that all the time. Mr. Fire: You do? Mr. Frying Pan: Yeah, sure. Mr. Fire: Where, at the 1942 club? Mr. Frying Pan: Hey, just cause you didn't get in... Mr. Fire: Motherfucker I could've gotten in... [Harry tries to make a break for it] Mr. Fire: [pushing Harry back into his seat] Hey-ey-EY! Slow your roll, man!
Harmony's Dad: Do I know you? Perry: No. Just in town for the funeral. Harmony's Dad: What do you want? Perry: Well, I was going to go to the zoo, but it was closed, so I thought I'd come here and look at an animal. Harmony's Dad: Son of a... Who do you think you're talking to? I buried my daughter today! Perry: No. You buried her twenty years ago. Harmony was right, her sister was murdered. You pulled the trigger. It just took this long for the bullet to hit. Harmony's Dad: Who are you? I loved my girl. [Perry backhands him] Harmony's Dad: You fucker! If I could get out of this bed... Perry: Yeah? Well, you can't. [Perry backhands him again] Harmony's Dad: You bastard! Old man that can't defend himself. Big tough guy. Perry: Yeah, that's right. Big tough guy.
B-Movie Actress: So what do you do for a living? Harry: Uh, I'm retired. I invented dice when I was a kid. How about you do?
Harlan Dexter: Captain fucking Magic!
Harry: And that's how she got to the same party as me. Oh shit. I skipped something. Damn it. This whole robot bit. I made a big deal, then I like totally forgot. Fuck, this is bad narrating. Like my dad telling a joke. "Oh, wait back up. I forgot to tell you the cowboy rode a blue horse." Fuck. Anyway, I don't know if you want to see it now, but here's the fucking robot stuff for your viewing pleasure. Can I say "fuck" more?
Harry: [voiceover] I was wetter than Drew Barrymore at a grunge club.
Harmony: Harmony: Oh, God. No more lies, Harry, no more. Are you a detective? Huh? Are you a detective, Harry? Harry: Harry: Who told you that? Harmony: Harmony: Flicka, Flicka. You know? My friend Flicka, she told me. If you are, then I really need your help. Harry: Harry: Well...
Perry: What are you doing? Harry: I'm just trying to wrap up the movie, and leave people with a message. Perry: Oh, I've got a message for you. Get your feet off my fucking desk. Harry: Sorry. [Harry moves his feet] Harry: I work for Perry now, obviously. Perry: [Perry places his hand over Harry's mouth] And stop narrating.
Harry: So the whole... reconcilement... thing? Perry: Reconciliation, idiot.
Perry: You, stop multiplying.
Harry: Its hard to believe it was just last Christmas that Harmony and I changed the world. And we didn't mean to and it didn't last long. You know a thing like that can't.
Harmony Age 7: Harold, use your awesome might to save me from this hopeless plight.
Harry: Your mouth is a recommended place to put a sock.
Harry: This is every shade of wrong.
Harry: By the way, this thing? [Imitates Perry's nose-touching gesture] Harry: Single gayest thing you've ever done.
Bear on TV Ad: I'm for Genaro's, but then, what do I know? I'm a bear. I suck the heads off of fish.
Perry: I'd understand if you wanted to take a swing at me... Perry: [Harry lands a quick punch to Perry's chin] You fuck!
Perry: Don't blame yourself. Listen. sometimes these things just happen. Harry: For a reason. For a reason? Why? Because I fall off a building, 10 people in Baltimore survive a bus crash? Swell, they're enjoying Baltimore. I'm lying here with my brains out. Perry: I've been to Baltimore. You win.
Harmony Age 7: I'm going to be an actress.
Harry: [to himself] And yeah, looking back, I maybe should've said something, told her I wasn't really a nipple - DETECTIVE, detective. Uhm, sorry...
Perry: Do you have to smoke? Harry: Do you want me to put it out, when we get near the...? Perry: Yeah, as soon as you find a large, brown clump of shrubs. Just throw it in there.
[shortly after Mr. Frying Pan makes an obscure "Ike, Mike, and Mustard" reference] Mr. Frying Pan: You wanna know who we are? I'm the frying pan, see? And my boy over here, he's... Mr. Fire: Mustard. I'm Mustard, baby. Mr. Frying Pan: He's the fire. Fuck you, Mr. Mustard.
Perry: How about you, Harry, did your father love you? Harry: Ah, sometimes, you know - like when I dressed up like a bottle. How about yours? Perry: Well, he used to beat me in Morse code, so it's possible, but he never actually said the words.
Harry: You remember the one I said that got away, yeah well that one was her. It all came flooding back how I was the one she confided in, the one she trusted, meanwhile she was doing every other guy in school. It was the first time I felt it, how pitying someone and wanting to fuck them can get all tangled up in your head... overwhelming sadness while having a rodney. Is that sick? Hm yeah, I think that's sick...
Harry: When in doubt, cut up a pig - that was the town's motto.
Woman in Hospital Blues: I don't like him; Kurt Cobain. He stole my cricket.
Harry: [after shooting many men he drops the gun down on the street] There... All done... Finished.
Perry: You think that's funny huh? I'm going to break your nose now. [nonchalantly pistol whips the guy in the nose]
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