Holt:
Burns...
[aims revolver at imaginary target]
Holt:
I sure hope them broads come this way. Roy was my best friend and I'm gonna pay 'em back.
Burns:
I'm gonna pay 'em back too. If I get my hands on that pitcher, I'm gonna... turn her sweet little ass every which way but loose.
Holt:
Hey, Mino didn't say nothin' about doin' that.
Burns:
Didn't say nothin' 'bout not doin' it neither. I bet you this old country boy teach them city bitches a thing or two.
Holt:
Burns, you can't even beat your own meat.
Burns:
[not to be outdone]
I beat it better than you can.
Holt:
[throws his head back, downs his can of beer in one gulp, then slams the empty can of beer against his forehead, crushing it]
Beat this, prick-breath!
Burns:
[not to be outdone]
Beat this, ass-breath!
[slams his full can of beer against his forehead, pulls the tab to drink it, gets a spray of overflowing beer into his face]
Holt:
Burns, I swear, you drink beer the way you piss!
Burns:
[not to be outdone]
You piss the way you drink beer.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 09:00
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