— This way it's dark then.
— Yeah, kids are scared of the dark.
— You're afraid of the dark too.
This house is so full of people it makes me sick! When I grow up and get married, I'm living alone! I'm living alone!
How low! Giving Kriss Kringle a parking ticket on Christmas Eve! What's next, rabies shots for the Easter Bunny?
Bless this nutritious, microwaveable macaroni and cheese dinner and the people who sold it on sale.
— I know you're not the real Santa Claus.
— Huh, what makes you say that? Just out of curiosity.
— I'm old enough to know how it works. But I also know you work for him. I'd like you to give him a message.
— Shoot.
— Kevin McCallister, 681 Lincoln Blvd. Do you need the phone number?
— No, that's all right.
— This is extremely important. Please tell him instead of presents, I just want my family back. No toys. Nothing but Peter, Kate, Buzz, Megan, Linnie and Jeff. And my aunt and my cousins. And if he has time, my Uncle Frank. Okay?
There are 15 people, and only you have to make trouble. <...> You're the only one acting up.
— Who is it?
— It's me. Snakes. I got the stuff.
— Leave it on the doorstep and get the hell out of here.
— All right, Johnny, but what about my money?
— What money?
— A. C. Said you had some dough for me.
— Is that a fact? How much do I owe you?
— A. C. Said ten percent.
— Too bad A. C. Ain't in charge no more.
— What do you mean?
<...>
— I'll tell you what I'm gonna give you. I'm gonna give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, yellow no-good keister off my property, before I pump your gu
full of lead.
— All right, I'm sorry. I'm going.
— One, two... ten. Keep the change, you filthy animal.
- 1
- 2