— Janitor? Have you ever looked at yourself and wished that you were different in every single way?
— No... I'm a winner.
— I know that the very idea of you doing a favor for me makes those ass cheeks clench up so tight that you could shovea lump of coal up there and probably crap out a diamond! Right? Ohh.... Come on, Bob, I can't even remember the last time I saw my son, and you — you — you're a father, for God's sake, you understand, don't you?
— My son was recently kicked out of his Hari Krishna sect for being too much of a hippie, and is currently residing in the Portland subway system. The point, Perry, is that the only thing I care less about than my son... is your son. Have fun at the Big House.
I will tell you something that my grandmother told me when I was a kid even though at the time I though she was my mother. She said: «Time spent wishing — is time wasted». Now, she died shortly after that, and my sister — who actually was my mother — she never got over it. Neither did my brother-dad.
So you're just gonna roll over and give up like you always do? Or are you finally gonna get mad and do something about it?