Big Money Rustlas

[from trailer]

Big Baby Chips:
Big Baby Chips: You people belong to me. Forever and always.

[from trailer]

Bartender:
What brings you to these parts, stranger?

Sugar Wolf:
[slaps the bartender] I ain't no stranger to these parts.

[from trailer]

Big Baby Chips:
Get my motherf***ing money.

[from trailer]

Sugar Wolf:
There is a new sheriff in town.

[from trailer]

Big Baby Chips:
If he thinks he can come between me and my motherf***ing money he's wrong. Dead wrong.

[from trailer]

Big Baby Chips:
Anybody else got any issues we'd be discussing? [silence] I didn't f***ing think so.

Big Baby Chips:
You got my money motha f***a?

Sugar Wolf:
Get to steppin'.

Raw Stank:
You platypus lookin motha f***a!

Dusty Poot:
Can a killa get a hotdog?

The Foot:
I'm the foot b*tch!

Sugar Wolf:
[after autographing an Indian's tomahawk] Don't eBay that.

Dirty Sanchez:
[On the town's water] It's as polluted as a fat chick's ass after running a marathon with no underwear on.

Sugar Wolf:
Well, I'll be a porcupine's dickhole.

Big Baby Chips:
Don't get your thongs all tangled up in this matter.

Dirty Sanchez:
I am Dirty. Dirty Sanchez. I milk the sheep and give mustache rides for two bits.

The Foot:
I'm The Foot, b*tch!

Bucky:
I read the script, and it doesn't say anything about this cowboy getting shot!

[repeated line]

Bucky:
Oh, crap.

Dirty Sanchez:
So, you accept his invitation to die?

Big Baby Chips:
I accept his invitation, alright, but I won't be the one dying.

Dirty Sanchez:
I can't wait to pee on your head.

Dirty Sanchez:
You guys look like Laurel and Hardy on crack.

Raw Stank:
Man, my hair ain't even red, b*tch! That joke ain't funny!

[Airplanes fly over the set during an outtake]

Big Baby Chips:
Citizens of Mudbug, as you are well aware... there's an airplane in town... we're building an airport.

Big Baby Chips:
[first lines; looks at cards] Ooh. Ooh, that's pretty. That's real pretty. Four naked ladies and a one-eyed jack. You got my money, motherf***ers?

Mexican Sign Dude:
[after four Mud Bug citizens are killed] Poor buggers. They never saw it comin'. Me? I'm gonna go by each one of their homes and pay my respects... to their wives! [laughs, drinks whiskey] F***in' jabrones.

Dusty Poot:
Big Baby, I don't know what it is about you, but getting chips has been sho' easy with you.

Big Baby Chips:
You know, you're right, Poot. It is easy getting paid in this town. Too easy, and for far too long. I sense a terrible trouble coming this way, which could mean problems, for me and my motherf***in' moneyyyyyyyy!

Big Baby Chips:
So, Mr. Stank...

Raw Stank:
Yeah.

Big Baby Chips:
You still in love with that whore?

Raw Stank:
Man, I kiss one horse, man, and y'all are still trippin'.

Big Baby Chips:
I said "whore", not "horse".

Raw Stank:
Who, Miss Angel?

Big Baby Chips:
Yeah.

Raw Stank:
Yeah, I fingered her a couple times.

Big Baby Chips:
Well, I suppose I did as well.

Raw Stank:
Huh?

Sheriff Fred Freckles:
Of course you know there are no guns allowed within Mud Bug city limits...

Big Baby Chips:
Yeah? So?

Raw Stank:
So motherf***in' what, man?

Dusty Poot:
Yeah, so the BUCK what?

Sheriff Fred Freckles:
Well, it's just that I'm gonna have to ask you to hand over your weapons to me. [entire saloon breaks out in laughter, then quiets down] I'm being serious now.

Big Baby Chips:
Oh, okay, sheriff. [brings out his pistol for him to take] Here you go.

Sheriff Fred Freckles:
Thank you. [as he reaches for it, Big Baby immediately flips it over and shoots Freckles' hat off his head, saloon laughs again]

Big Baby Chips:
You know, if you weren't so damn entertaining, I'd have to KILL yo' ass!

Raw Stank:
Give him his motherf***in' money, you platypus-lookin' motherf***er!

Raw Stank:
Man, I hate you, motherf***er! I hate you!

Dirty Sanchez:
[as Sugar is about to drink water from the well] I wouldn't do that if I was you.

Sugar Wolf:
What's it to you, hombre?

Dirty Sanchez:
Look, man. [Sanchez tosses the cup of water on the ground, where it starts hissing and steaming from deluding acid]

Sugar Wolf:
Oh, sh*t!

Dirty Sanchez:
It's better to drink in the saloon. Years ago, acid from the goldmine polluted our water. I mean, it's as polluted as a fat chick's ass after running a marathon with no underwear, man.

Sugar Wolf:
Okay, Bucky, that's it, friend. You're hired, partner. Welcome aboard. You're gonna be on guard from dusk 'til dawn right here in the jailhouse.

Bucky:
Oh, that's some great news, sheriff. Now I just have one question, all right, does that include not getting shot? [Sugar pimpslaps him] Oh, crap!

Sugar Wolf:
Why, of course not, Bucky. Don't be stupid. No deputy nighttime watchman of mine is ever gonna get shot.

Bucky:
Oh, I'm not bein' stupid, I'm just wondering how do I know I'm not gonna get shot?

Sugar Wolf:
Well, Bucky, I'll make you one simple promise: if you get shot and die, I'll double your paycheck.

Bucky:
Oh, man, that is great, sheriff! You got yourself a deal! [both stand and shake hands]

Sheriff Fred Freckles:
Oh, for the love of chili!

Man in Outhouse:
What the f*** was that? I didn't even get a chance to wipe!

Sugar Wolf:
There's something running afoul here in Mud Bug... and I intend to get to the bottom of it... it smells like the bottom of Bigfoot's a**hole...

Raw Stank:
[while the two are in jail] Man, this is some straight up bullshit, man! Just wait 'til Big Baby come up in here and f*** you up, Sugar Waffle!

Dusty Poot:
Yeah, he gon' bust yo' ass!

Raw Stank:
And what's up on getting something to eat up in this b*tch? I can't get no motherf***in' rabbit? No squirrel stew? Nothin'?

Dusty Poot:
Can a killa get a hot dog? Or maybe a frog at the end of that b*tch-ass stick you wieldin'?

Raw Stank:
And what's up on my motherf***in' phone call?

Dusty Poot:
B*tch! They ain't even invented phones yet!

Raw Stank:
Not even the wind-up ones?

Dusty Poot:
[after Sugar slaps Stank] Oh sh*t! That's like police brutality and shi - [Sugar slaps Poot, hectic, looking around] Holy sh*t! Where the f*** did that come from?

Raw Stank:
MY FACE IS ON FIRE!

Dusty Poot:
You super-slap-happy-Sugar-silly-ass-Waffle!

Sugar Wolf:
I got some carpet to munch.

Dirty Sanchez:
Hey, can I ask you a question? Does the carpet match the drapes?

Sugar Wolf:
It must be Friday 'cause you gettin' straight-up PAID!

Bucky:
[being held at gunpoint by Stank, Poot and Hack] Guys, what about me? Can I go? These guys are going.

Raw Stank:
No, we gon' keep yo' ass to send a motherf***in' message to Sugar Waffle!

Bucky:
Oh, that's great news! I take good dictation!

Dusty Poot:
Good! Well, tell him we said this, b*tch! [the three open fire]

Dirty Sanchez:
[after finding Bucky riddled with bullet wounds] Bucky! What happened?

Sugar Wolf:
He got shot. They killed him.

Dirty Sanchez:
Oh, crap.

Mexican Sign Dude:
[about Bucky] I'm gonna miss him, man. I'm gonna miss him. He was a good kid; had a bright future; could'a been somebody. Oh, well. F*** him. [drinks whiskey]

Dirty Sanchez:
Okay, now that looks good. Oh, I like the way that looks a LOT.

Sugar Wolf:
I can't wait to spread this across your buns...

Dirty Sanchez:
Yeah, it's gonna be great, man. I can't wait to taste it.

Sugar Wolf:
It's gonna be delicious, right across your lips...

Dirty Sanchez:
Yeah. Oh, God, melt in your mouth, you know?

Sugar Wolf:
Dripping down your chin across your glistening chest...

Dirty Sanchez:
Yeah, naturally. I mean, that's what it does, you know? That's what happens when you make good, delicious butter. You know?

Dirty Sanchez:
You're just hovering there, man! Like a hummingbird!

Raw Stank:
We'll see you in ten. Any false moves before then, you'll be dead. I mean, you dead already, motherf***er, but before they square off, you'll be dead sooner!

Raw Stank:
[after his belt buckle is shot and his pants drop] Huh?

Dirty Sanchez:
Drop your guns, you Brokeback-Mountain sissies!

Sugar Wolf:
Well, I guess that about sums that sh*t up. My father was nothin' but a big money rustla. [howls]

Raw Stank:
Listen up, people! We got a special treat for y'all! Here, at the Mud Bug Hootenanny Hoedown!

Dusty Poot:
Playin' the twin-barrel machine guns with that sweeeeeet salsa twist...

Raw Stank:
Ya' big homie...

Dusty Poot:
The one, the only...

Raw Stank:
[in unison with Poot]... Big Baby Chips!

Big Baby Chips:
[emerges from inside the piano with machine gun in each hand] THE WICKED CLOWNS WILL NEVER DIE, MUTHAF***AS!