Reservoir Dogs Quotes

Mr. Orange: [telling the Commode Story] This is a very weird situation. 'Cause I don't know if you remember back in '86 there was a major fucking drought. Nobody had anything. People were living on resin... smoking the wood in their pipes for months. This chick had a bunch. And she's begging me to sell it. So I told her I wasn't going to be Joe the potman anymore, but I would take

a little bit and sell it to my close, close, close friends. She agreed to that, said we'd keep the same arrangement as before; 10%, free pot for me, as long as I helped her out that weekend. She had a brick of weed she was selling, she didn't want to go to the buy alone. Her brother usually goes with her, but he's in county unexpectedly.
Mr. White: What for?

Mr. Orange: His traffic tickets. Got a warrant. They stopped him for something, found warrants on him, took him to county. Now she doesn't walk around alone with all that weed. I don't want to do this. I have a very bad feeling about it. But she keeps asking me, keeps asking me, keeps asking me, finally I said OK 'cause I'm sick of hearing it. Now, we're picking the guy up at the

train station...
Nice Guy Eddie: Wait a minute. You go to the train station to pick up the buyer with the weed on you?
Mr. Orange: The guy needed it right away. Don't ask me why. Anyway, we're get to the station and we're waiting for the guy. I'm carrying the weed in one of those little carry-on bags. I got to take a piss. So I tell the connection

I'll be right back, I'm going to the boys' room. So I walk in the mens' room, and who's standing there? Four Los Angeles county sheriffs and a German shepherd.
Nice Guy Eddie: They're waiting for you?
Mr. Orange: No, they're just a bunch of cops hanging out in the men's room, talking. When I walked through the door, they all stopped what they were

talking about and they looked at me.
Mr. White: [laughs] That's hard, man. That's a fucking hard situation.
Mr. Orange: German shepherd starts barking. He's barking at me. I mean, it's obvious. He's barking at me. Every nerve-ending, all my senses, blood in my veins, everything I have is screaming, "Take off, man! Just bail, just get the fuck out of

there!" Panic hits me like a bucket of water. First there's the shock of it... -BAM!... -right in the face. I'm standing there drenched in panic. All these sheriffs looking at me, and they know, man. They can smell it. Sure as that fucking dog can, they can smell it on me.

Mr. Orange: What happens if the manager won't give you the diamonds?
Mr. White: When you're dealing with a store like this, they're insured up the ass. They're not supposed to give you any resistance whatsoever. If you get a customer, or an employee, who thinks he's Charles Bronson, take the butt of your gun and smash their nose in. Everybody jumps. He

falls down screaming, blood squirts out of his nose, nobody says fucking shit after that. You might get some bitch talk shit to you, but give her a look like you're gonna smash her in the face next, watch her shut the fuck up. Now if it's a manager, that's a different story. Managers know better than to fuck around, so if you get one that's giving you static, he probably thinks he's a real cowboy,

so you gotta break that son of a bitch in two. If you wanna know something and he won't tell you, cut off one of his fingers. The little one. Then tell him his thumb's next. After that he'll tell you if he wears ladies underwear. I'm hungry. Let's get a taco.

Mr. Pink: [about Mr. Blonde] He seems okay now, but he was crazy in the store.
Mr. White: This is what he was doing...
[mimics randomly shooting innocent bystanders]
Mr. White: Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Mr. Blonde: Yeah, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam. I told 'em not to touch the alarm... but they touched it. If

they hadn't done what I told 'em not to do, they'd still be alive.
Mr. White: [clapping] My fucking hero.
Mr. Blonde: [taking a bow] Thanks.
Mr. White: That's your excuse for going on a kill-crazy rampage?
Mr. Blonde: I don't like alarms, Mr. White.

Mr. White: How do you know all this, Joe? How do you know Mr. Orange is the informant?
Joe: He was the only one that I wasn't 100% sure on. I should have my fuckin' head examined for going on a plan like this when I wasn't a hundred percent sure of my crew!
Mr. White: [shouting] That's your proof?
Joe: You

don't need proof when you have instinct!

Mr. White: You can't leave this guy with them.
Nice Guy Eddie: Why not?
Mr. White: Because he's a fucking psycho. And if you think Joe's pissed off, that ain't nothing compared to how pissed off I am at him, for putting me in the same room as that bastard!
Mr. Blonde: See what I've been putting up with, Eddie?

I fucking walked in here, I told these guys about staying put. Mr. White whips out his gun, he's sticking it in my face, calling me a motherfucker, saying he's gonna blow me away and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Mr. Pink: We were set up. The cops were waiting for us.
Nice Guy Eddie: What? Nobody set anybody up.
Mr. Pink: The cops were there waiting for us!
Nice Guy Eddie: Bull shit!
Mr. Pink: Hey, fuck you, man! You weren't there... we were! And I'm tellin' ya, the cops had that store staked

out.
Nice Guy Eddie: Okay, Mr. Fucking Detective! You're so fucking smart. Who did it? Who set us up?
Mr. Pink: What the fuck do ya think we've been askin' each other?
Nice Guy Eddie: And what are your answers? Was it me? You think I set you up?
Mr. Pink: I don't know, but somebody did!

Nice Guy Eddie: Nobody did! You assholes turn the jewelry store into a wild west show, and you wonder why the cops show up?

[Joe pulls out his gun and aims it at Mr. Orange; in response, Mr. White pulls out his gun and aims it at Joe; Eddie pulls out his gun and aims it at Mr. White]
Nice Guy Eddie: [quietly] Have you lost your fuckin' mind?
Mr. White: [ignores Eddie, his gaze is fixed on Joe] Joe, you're making a terrible mistake. I'm not gonna let you make it.

Mr. Pink: Come on, guys! Nobody wants this! We're supposed to be fucking professionals!
Nice Guy Eddie: [quietly] Larry, look. It's been quite a long time. A lot of jobs. There's no need for this, man. Let's just put our guns down, and let's settle this with a fuckin' conversation.
Mr. White: [still ignores Eddie, his gaze is fixed

on Joe] Joe, if you kill that man, you die next. I repeat: if you kill that man, you die next.
Nice Guy Eddie: [quietly] Larry, we have been friends, and you respect my dad, and I respect you, but I will put fucking bullets right through your heart. You put that fuckin' gun down, now.
Mr. White: [still ignores Eddie, his gaze is fixed on Joe] Goddamn

you, Joe. Don't make me do this.
Nice Guy Eddie: [losing his nerves, he yells angrily] LARRY, STOP POINTING THAT FUCKIN' GUN AT MY DAD!
[Joe shoots Mr. Orange; Mr. White shoots and kills Joe; Eddie shoots Mr. White; Mr. White quickly shoots and kills Eddie, then collapses near Mr. Orange, both of them are injured but still alive. Mr. Pink, who has been hiding under a

ramp during the shootout, looks around, walks to Mr. Blonde's body, takes the bag with the loot and exits the warehouse]

Joe: With the exception of Eddie and myself, whom you already know, we're going to be using aliases on this job. Under no circumstances do I want any one of you to relate to each other by your Christian names, and I don't want any talk about yourself personally. That includes where you been, your wife's name, where you might've done time, or maybe a bank you robbed in St.

Petersburg. All I want you guys to talk about, if you have to, is what you're going to do. That should do it. Here are your names...
[pointing to each respective member]
Joe: Mr. Brown, Mr. White, Mr. Blonde, Mr. Blue, Mr. Orange, and Mr. Pink.
Mr. Pink: Why am I Mr. Pink?
Joe: Because you're a faggot, alright?