Mallrats
Mallrats

[first lines, Theatrical Version]
Brodie: [voice-over] One time my cousin Walter got this cat stuck up his ass. True story. He bought it at our local mall, so the whole fiasco wound up on the news. It was embarrassing for my relatives and all, but next week, he did it again. Different cat, same results, complete with another trip to the emergency room. So, I run into him a

week later in the mall and he's buying another cat. And I says to him, "Jesus, Walt! What are you doing? You know you're just gonna get this cat stuck up your ass too. Why don't you knock it off?" And he said to me, "Brodie, how the hell else am I supposed to get the gerbil out?" My cousin was a weird guy.

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Mallrats

T.S. Quint: But they're engaged.
Brodie: Doesn't matter, it can't happen.
T.S. Quint: Why not? It's bound to come up.
Brodie: It's impossible. Lois could never have Superman's baby. Do you think her fallopian tubes could handle his sperm? I guarantee he blows a load like a shotgun right through her back. What

about her womb? Do you think it's strong enough to carry his child?
T.S. Quint: Sure, why not?
Brodie: He's an alien, for Christ sake. His Kyrptonian biological makeup is enhanced by Earth's yellow sun. If Lois gets a tan, the kid could kick right through her stomach. Only someone like Wonder Woman has a strong enough uterus to carry his kid. The

only way he could bang regular chicks is with a Kryptonite condom, but that would kill him.
T.S. Quint: How is it that I go from the verge of hot Floridian sex with Brandi to Man of Steel coital debates with you in the food court?
Brodie: Cookie stand isn't part of the food court.
T.S. Quint: Of course it is.

Brodie: The food court is downstairs. The cookie stand is upstairs. It not like we're talking quantum physics here.
T.S. Quint: The cookie stands counts as an eatery, eateries are part of the food court.
Brodie: Bullshit! Eateries that operate within the designated square downstairs qualify as food court. Anything outside, of said

designated square, is considered an autonomous unit for mid-mall snacking. Now, if you're going to wax intellectual about the subject...

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Stan Lee: You know, I think you ought to get him some help. He seems to be really hung up on super heroes' sex organs.

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Brodie: You're giving up? You? You used to be stand-up guy, what happened to him? The guy who punched Amanda Gross's mother after she called him "low class".
T.S. Quint: That wasn't me. It was you.
Brodie: Oh, yeah.
T.S. Quint: And it wasn't her mother, it was her grandmother.
Brodie:

No wonder the bitch went down so fast.

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Mallrats

Brandi: Second suitor, would you ever make whoopie in public?
Brodie: I already did once today.
[clicks his finger at Renee]
Brodie: But my cousin Walter jerked off in public once. True story. He was on a plane to New Mexico when all of the sudden the hydraulics went. The plane started spinning around, going out of control, so

he decides it's all over and whips it out and starts beating it right there. So all the other passengers take a cue from him and they start whipping it out and beating like mad. So all the passengers are beating off, plummeting to their certain doom, when all of the sudden, snap! The hydraulics kick back in. The plane rights itself and it land safely and everyone puts their pieces or, whatever,

you know, away and deboard. No one mentions the phenomenon to anyone else.
Gil Hicks: [beat] Well, did he cum, or what?
Brodie: Jesus *Christ*, man! There's just some things you don't talk about in public!

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Shannon Hamilton: You wanna say something?
Brodie: Yeah. About a million things, but I can't express myself monosyllabically enough for you to understand 'em all.

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Silent Bob: Adventure, excitement... a Jedi craves not these things.
[c.f.]
Silent Bob: [link=tt0080684] ]

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Brodie: I took you shopping all the time!
[Banging his hands against the elevator wall]
Rene: You took me where you went shopping, you jerk! You think I care what store in that shitpit dirt mall has the latest Godzilla bootlegs? Do you call eating pizza in the same dive pizzeria every night eating out? Do I give a shit when two major comic book

labels are crossing over characters, selling two editions of the same book in varied-ink chromium covers? I'm a girl, damn it! I wanna do girly things! Like fix up someone's hair and get phone calls expressing romantic sentiments!

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[Jay and Silent Bob are hiding from La Fours]
Jay: Is he gone?
Brodie: Halfway to Buy Me Toys by now.
[they come out of hiding]
Jay: Man, that bastard's faster than Walt Flanagan's dog...

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Mallrats

Brandi: Suitor number 3, is your kiss like a soft breeze, a firm handshake or a jackhammer?
Gil Hicks: Definitely a jackhammer, I'm in there with some pressure and when I'm done, you're not the same as before. You're changed.
Brodie: Where do you come up with this shit? That's the cheesiest response to an honest question I have ever

heard. I saw you kiss and it wasn't anything like that.
Bob Summers: [Chuckling] Suitor #2, you'll have to wait until you're addressed before you respond.
Brodie: Richard Dawson, why don't you just go back to your podium until it's time to play The Feud. All right?
[Audience laughs]
Gil Hicks: Who the hell did you see

me kiss?
Brodie: Some dude backstage. I don't know who he was but he seemed unimpressed.
Gil Hicks: I didn't kiss any guy backstage. I swear. I'm not gay.
Brodie: Hey, Suitorette, this guys a homophobe. You heard how repulsed he sounded. Is this the kind of guy you want to spend a vacation with? This hate-monger?

Gil Hicks: I don't hate gay people.
Brodie: So you love them?
Gil Hicks: Yes. I mean no.
Brodie: Textbook closet case self-loather. Can't be comfortable with his own sexuality.

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Jay: [as Silent Bob is 'flying' across the mall towards the stage] Fly, Fatass, fly!

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Little Girl: [looking at a Magic Eye poster] Wow. It's a schooner.
Willam Black: Ha ha ha ha. You dumb bastard. It's not a schooner... it's a Sailboat.
Little Boy: A schooner IS a sailboat stupid head!
Willam Black: [becoming enraged] You know what? There is NO Easter Bunny! Over there, that's just a guy in a

suit!

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[At a Dating Game-like game show]
Brandi: Second suitor: if we were making whoopee, what sounds would you make?
Brodie: Wait, what's whoopee?
Brandi: You know, being intimate.
Brodie: What? Like fucking?

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Willam Black: Brenda?
Rene: [hitting him] DICK!

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[after hitting La Fours over the head with a baseball bat]
Jay: Come son of Jor-El, kneel before Zod! Snootchie-bootchies. Ehehehehe!

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[the videotape of Shannon back-dooring Trica is playing on the big screen, with cheesy 70s porno music in background]
Shannon Hamilton: Yeah, who's your favourite New Kid. Yeah, call me Joey. Oh, come on. Don't make me get loose. Yeah, that's right. Call me Donnie. Oh, girl. Oh, please don't go girl.
Jay: Goddamn. This is one wacky game show.

Brodie: [to the cops] Hey! That girl's only 15!
[cops focus their attention on Shannon]
Shannon Hamilton: Ah, 15. I thought she was 36!
[cops are approaching him]
Shannon Hamilton: Come on, guys. Tell me you wouldn't have popped her.

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[Brodie picks up a controller and continues a paused video game]
Rene: What are you doing? You promised me breakfast.
Brodie: Breakfast, shmreakfast. Look at the score, for Christ's sake. It's only the second period and I'm up 12 to 2. Breakfasts come and go, Rene, but Hartford, "the Whale," they only beat Vancouver once, maybe twice in a lifetime.


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Brodie: After all he's done to you, you should still kinda stick it to him.
T.S. Quint: How do you propose I do that?
Brodie: You stinkpalm him.
T.S. Quint: Stinkpalm?
Brodie: You take your hand and stick it in your ass like this. You been walkin' all day and you're nervous, so no doubt

you'll be sweaty as hell.
T.S. Quint: You should see yourself right now, a grown man with his hand down his pants.
Brodie: Yeah i probably look like my old man. So you shake hands with the guy, "Hello Mr. Svenning how have you been?"
T.S. Quint: Whats the point?
Brodie: You know how long it takes for

that smell to come off? Scrub all you want, it'll stick around for at least two days. How does he explain it to his colleagues and family? They'll think he doesn't know how to wipe his ass properly.
T.S. Quint: Meanwhile you yourself are left with a hand that smells like shit.
Brodie: Small price to pay for the smiting of one's enemies.

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Brodie: Listen, not a year goes by, not a year, that I don't hear about some escalator accident involving some bastard kid which could have easily been avoided had some parent - I don't care which one - but some parent conditioned him to fear and respect that escalator.

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Jay: Shit, bitch, we're gonna bust up that stage like a high school kegger. We're just gonna outwit Lafours, X-Men style.
Brodie: Should I call you Logan, Weapon-X?
Jay: No, *Wolverine*! Shnickty shnickty shnoine!
Brodie: See, what he's doing is imitating Wolverine's berserker attack with his adamantium claws.


T.S. Quint: I never would have guessed.