About Last Night

Joan:
Hey, get on top.

Bernie:
I'm not getting on top. You gotta get on top.

Joan:
I got on top the last time.

Bernie:
Rock, paper, scissors, loser get on top.

Joan:
Okay

Bernie:
All right, on three... That's a tie so we gotta go from the side.

Debbie:
[at dinner with Joan and Bernie] Wow, this looks great. You guys really went all out.

Joan:
Thank you!

Bernie:
Well... uh, it's a very special evening.

Debbie:
Are you pregnant?

Bernie:
What- what? Hell no; don't you say no sh*t like that.

Bernie:
I wanna talk to you, man. All that stuff that I was sayin' to you about her potentially being Alison? I didn't mean it, man. I'm seeing a difference in you. I feel like it's because of her. I'm kind of like, jealous, a little bit? I'm really happy for you, Danny.

Danny:
Really?

Bernie:
F*** no! This is stupid.

Bernie:
Yo, you are sick. You're gone, Joan. If you didn't have a p*ssy, there would be a bounty out on your head!

Joan:
You are a psychopathic social misfit who's clearly in the middle of a deep homosexual panic.

Bernie:
Oh, if I'm gay, it's only because after f***ing you for three months, that seemed like the next logical step to take! I would rather chase another man's ass than f*** you again, Joan!

Bernie:
Hey! Look at me! Get the bag! Listen to me! The food is vile, you hear me? The b*tch cannot cook. Whatever you do you do not swallow the f***ing food! What you gonna do is this: You gonna wait 'til she's not looking, spit it in the bag. Get low. Put it in the f***ing bag. And if you do that throw that sh*t in the trash, do it fast 'cause the food eat through the bag, and she'll smell it. Alright? You're not listening to me, you don't give a sh*t about what I'm saying. OK, I gotta die for it, don't mean you have to. You on your own, I tried to tell you.