Nullum offcio sine beneficio.
Vacendak: — I knew you'd make a mistake. McCandless can't drive. You must coach him better than that.
Julie Redlund: — Is that you?
Furlong: — Nibble my ear... for luck.
Julie Redlund: — How'd you get the I. D. number right?
Vacendak: — He didn't. I lied. He wasn't even close.
Julie Redlund: — Are we really going to do this?
Furlong: — Stranger things have happened.
— Hey, Furlong. It's Vacendak. I hate to say this... but you're speeding. Where we going? I hate the dark!
— Piss off!
If you ain't got it in the hips, you better have it in the lips.
— Nasty way to go. I think our Mr. merchant tried to have a little fry up and left the gas on. Spends his whole life devoted to the refrigerator then gets killed by an oven. I told him several times, you shouldn't eat late at night.
— Oh, I don't know. I quite like a little midnight gobble.
— Cocks.
— Killing a man can turn him into a martyr. Letting him live... tells the world he's a coward or a turncoat.
— So what are you?
— Aggrieved.
— Is this your car?
— Oh, no, in Beverly Hills we just take whichever car's closest.
— Uh, I'm married.
— That's allowed.