Grosse Pointe Blank

Marcella:
You know, when you started getting invited to your ten year high school reunion, time is catching up.

Martin Q. Blank:
Are you talking about a sense of my own mortality or a fear of death?

Marcella:
Well, I never really thought about it quite like that.

Martin Q. Blank:
Did you go to yours?

Marcella:
Yes, I did. It was just as if everyone had swelled.

Marty:
They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they've all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say? "I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How've you been?"

Marty:
This your Beamer?

Paul:
Yeah.

Marty:
In Detroit? That's sacrilege!

Mr. Grocer:
After we do your job, we're gonna do another job.

Marty:
Tell me about it.

Mr. Grocer:
Like I'm gonna put a bullet hole in your f***in' forehead, and I'm gonna f*** the brain hole!

Debi:
Some people say forgive and forget. Nah, I don't know. I say forget about forgiving and just accept. And... get the hell out of town.

Marty:
If I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there.

Mary Blank:
You're a handsome devil. What's your name?

Marty:
I was hired to kill you. But I'm not going to. It's either because I'm in love with your daughter or I have a newfound respect for life.

Mr. Grocer:
That punk's either in love with that guy's daughter or he's got a newfound respect for life.

Debi:
I'll go put these in some rubbing alcohol.

McCullers:
You got any ideas how you wanna wax this guy?

Steve:
Can't you just say 'kill'? Ya always gotta romanticize it.

Dr. Oatman:
Martin, I'm emotionally involved with you.

Marty:
How are you emotionally involved with me?

Dr. Oatman:
I'm afraid of you.

Marty:
You're afraid of me.

Dr. Oatman:
And that constitutes an emotional involvement, and it would be unethical for me to work with you under those circumstances.

Marty:
You don't know my cat. It's very demanding.

Debi:
"It"? You don't know if it's a boy or a girl?

Marty:
I respect its privacy.

Marty:
Why are you so interested in me going to my high school reunion?

Marcella:
I just find it amusing that you came from somewhere.

Mr. Newberry:
What have you been doing with your life?

Marty:
Uh... professional killer.

Mr. Newberry:
Oh! Good for you, it's a... growth industry.

Debi:
You know what you need?

Marty:
What?

Debi:
Shakabuku.

Marty:
You wanna tell me what that means?

Debi:
It's a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.

Marty:
Oh, that'd be good. I think.

Marty:
Marcella... you know what I do for a living.

Bob:
Real smart. C'mon. Let's see how smart you are with my foot up your ass!

Marty:
It's not me.

Debi:
You're a psychopath.

Marty:
No, no. Psychopaths kill for no reason. I kill for *money*. It's a *job*. That didn't come out right.

Mr. Grocer:
Workers of the world, unite!

Paul:
Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater.

Marty:
I'm a professional killer.

Amy:
Where ya been these last ten years?

Debi:
Yeah, where ya been, "Marv"?

Amy:
Ya look great!

Martin Q. Blank:
Thanks. I work at Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Amy:
Ya do not!

Martin Q. Blank:
I do! I sell biscuits and gravy all over the Southland.

Amy:
You're so funny.

Debi:
He's a funny guy.

Amy:
What do you do?

Marty:
I work at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I sell biscuits and gravy all over the Southlands.

Waitress:
What do you want in your omelette, sir?

Marty:
Nothing in the omelette, nothing at all.

Waitress:
Well, that's not technically an omelette.

Marty:
Look, I don't want to get into a semantic argument, I just want the protein.

Dr. Oatman:
Don't kill anybody for a few days. See what it feels like.

Martin Q. Blank:
Alright, I'll give it a shot.

Dr. Oatman:
No, don't give it a shot! Don't shoot anything!

Debi:
Where are all the good men dead, in the heart or in the head?

Mr. Newberry:
Did I have you figured wrong?

Marty:
I don't know - I mean I hope so.

Mr. Newberry:
I visualised you in a haze as one of those slackster, flannel-wearing, coffee-house misanthropes I've been seeing in Newsweek.

Marty:
No no no, I went the other road. Six figures, doing business with leadpipe cruelty, mercenery sensibility. You know... sports, sex, no real relationships. How about you - how have the years been treating you?

Mr. Newberry:
Well you know me Martin - still the same old sell-out, exploiting the oppressed...

Marty:
Sure.

Mr. Newberry:
Ah what a piece of work is man, how noble... oh f*** it, let's have a drink and forget the whole damn thing.

Mr. Grocer:
This is Durazac 15, kid. It makes Prozac seem like de-caf latte.

Marty:
I don't do that stuff anymore.

Mr. Grocer:
Don't say "do it," because I don't "do it," I *ingest* it, on orders of my neurophysiologist. This stuff is legal. In five years they'll be putting it in the water for citizens, just like fluoride.

Kevin McCullers:
Man, why don't we just do his job, so we can do our job and get the f*** out of here?

Steve:
What do you mean, "do his job?" What am I, a cold-blooded killer? I'm not a cold-blooded killer.

Kevin McCullers:
Now, wait a minute...

Steve:
No, you wait a minute. You want to kill the good guy but not be the bad guy. Doesn't work like that. You have to wait until the bad guy kills the good guy, then when you kill the bad guy, you're the good guy.

Kevin McCullers:
So - just to clarify - if we do his job we're the bad guys, and if we do our job we're the good guys.

Steve:
Yes.

Kevin McCullers:
That's... great.

Marty:
Oatman? Don't hang up. Listen, I didn't kill anyone - except some guy tried to kill me, so if I see that guy again, I'm definitely gonna kill him, but I'm not going to kill anybody else. I'm on my way to the reunion now with Debi, but I'm just a little nervous, and I'd like to do a phoner.

Dr. Oatman:
O.K., repeat after me. "I am at home with the me. I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure."

Marty:
I am at home with the me, I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure.

Dr. Oatman:
Good. Now take a deep breath, and realize that this is me breathing.

Marty:
Wait, I'm confused. Do you want me to say it or do you want me to realize it?

Dr. Oatman:
What?

Marty:
About the breathing.

Dr. Oatman:
Say it.

Marty:
This is me breathing.

Dr. Oatman:
Good, now keep doing that for about twenty minutes.

Marty:
Listen, I got to go.

Dr. Oatman:
O.K. Keep it up. Don't kill anybody.

Marty:
Right!

Marcella:
Sir, I'm really beginning to worry about your safety.

Marty:
Look, I got to go.

Marcella:
Yeah, we all got to go sometime, sir, but we can choose when.

Marty:
No one chooses when.

Marty:
A thousand innocent people get killed every day! But a millionaire's pet gets detonated, and you're marked for life.

Marty:
Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I - and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialize in ritual killings. Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you? Hi, I'm Martin Blank, you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.

Marcella:
You can take care of business and stop by Grosse Pointe for your reunion...

Marty:
Look, Sgt. Pepper, I really need you to shut up about that.

Marcella:
Sir, it's out of my hands. The gods want you to go back home and they want to delete someone while you're there.

Marty:
I was sitting there alone on prom night, in a goddamn rented tuxedo, and my whole life flashed before my eyes. And I realized finally, and for the first time, that I wanted to kill somebody. So I figured since I loved you so much, it'd be a good idea if I didn't see you anymore.

Marty:
They're right behind us. So I was in the Gulf last year, I was doing this thing anyway. And I came up over this dune, and I saw the ocean... and it was on fire. The whole thing, on fire, and it was beautiful. So I just sat there and watched it, and that's when I realized there might be a meaning to life, you know, like an organic power that connects all living things, God, Yahweh, I dunno.

Debi:
Everybody's coming back to take stock of their lives. You know what I say? Leave your livestock alone.

Ken McCullard:
I do divorce mainly, some property, some personal injury.

Marty:
They all seem kinda related.

Marty:
I'm sorry if I f***ed up your life.

Debi:
It's not over yet.

Mr. Grocer:
Hey, if you're lookin' for a father figure I'll give you a spankin'!

Mr. Grocer:
Easy there Chief, I don't see Hollow-Point Wound Care on the menu.

Marty:
Why are you in Detroit? Redwings need a new goon?

Bob:
I'm drawing a complete... Blank.

Debi:
I should have worn a skirt.

Marty:
I should have brought my gun.

Debi:
What was that?

Marty:
Should be fun!

Debi:
You're a f***ing *psycho*.

Marty:
Don't rush to judgment on something like that until all the facts are in.

Debi:
Okay. So. You're back... a decade late, and... you're on some sort of therapeutic assignment, and you want to sort things out with me. So the question now becomes, do I allow you access to me or... do I call security?

Marty:
I don't think that'd be a good idea.

Debi:
Next caller, you're on the air.

Nathaniel:
Debbie? Man, it's Nathaniel. Uh, I don't hear any real remorse, dude, I mean, like, I don't think I'd let him back into your life. And dude, I'd make him wear that prom dress!

Paul:
Okay, well, I'll see you at the "I've peaked and I'm kidding myself" party.

Debi:
How come you never learned that it was wrong? That there are certain things you do not do, you do not do in a civilized society?

Marty:
Which civilizations are we talking about?

Debi:
Oh, shut up!

Marty:
I mean, history...

Debi:
Shut up!

Steve:
Tell you what, why don't I take the weekend off and *you* kill him, since you two are so close?

Marty:
What about those two guys in a Caprice Classic outside? The word is you turned two Governments on me, you turncoat.

Mr. Grocer:
Me?

Marty:
You.

Mr. Grocer:
Go G?

Marty:
Yes.

Mr. Grocer:
On you?

Marty:
Yes.

Mr. Grocer:
Never.

Marcella:
Don't hang up! Wait! Did ya' read yesterday's offer?

Marty:
Hold on a minute.

Marcella:
It's in French. It's a Greenpeace boat. It'd be so easy.

Marty:
No way! I have scruples.

Marcella:
Sir, they're very unhappy.

Martin Q. Blank:
I'm very unhappy.

Marcella:
It was supposed to look like a heart attack! He was supposed to die in his sleep!

Martin Q. Blank:
Well, he moved.

Debi:
If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's, well, broken.

Marcella:
As a graduate of the class of 1986, you are someone special. Remember, there's nowhere you can go that you haven't learned how to go in time. Whatever the hell that means.

Martin Q. Blank:
Are you all right?

Ultimart Carl:
No, I'm not all right!

Martin Q. Blank:
Take it easy.

Ultimart Carl:
I'm hurt... I'm pissed... gotta find a new job!

Mr. Grocer:
Look at that! Empty!

Debi:
What is this I'm feeling? Is it pain? Panic? Hunger? Am I hungry? Who's hungry?

Martin's target:
Whatever it is i'm doing that you don't like... I'll stop doing it.

Martin Blank:
It's not me. [shoots him dead]

Martin:
I'm a professional killer.

Paul:
Do you have to do post-graduate work for that, or can you just jump right in?

Martin:
Debi's house.

Paul:
Kinda crept up on you, didn't it?

Martin:
No, you drove us here.

Debi Newberry:
So, is there a Mrs. Mysterio?

Martin Blank:
No, but I have a cat.

Debi Newberry:
It's not the same thing.

Martin Blank:
Well, you don't know my cat. It's very demanding.

Debi Newberry:
"It"? You don't know if it's a boy or a girl?

Martin Blank:
I respect its privacy.

[Martin's secretary has discovered that several enemies are in town]

Marcella:
[on phone] Sir, I'm becoming concerned for your safety.

Martin:
I have to go.

Marcella:
Yeah, well, we all have to go sometime, sir, but we can choose when.

Martin:
Nobody chooses when.

Martin Blank:
Whole grain pancakes and an egg-white omelette, please.

Waitress:
What would you like in your omelette?

Martin Blank:
Nothing in the omelette. Nothing at all.

Waitress:
Well, that's not technically an omelette.

Martin Blank:
Look, I don't want to get into a semantic argument about it, I just want the protein, all right?

Martin Blank:
You must have done some naughty sh*t there, Bart! There's a contract out on your life. I should know, I was hired to kill you. But I'm not going to do it. It's either because I'm in love with your daughter, or I have a newfound respect for life.

Mr. Grocer:
[in pursuit in the next car] That punk is either in love with that guy's daughter, or he has a newfound respect for life!

[Debi's dad learns there's a contract on his life.]

Mr. Newberry:
Design division wants me dead over a leaky sun-roof? You want to kill me because of that?

Martin Blank:
It's not ME! Why does everybody think it's personal?

Martin Blank:
I guess you could say I went west. You know, the way of Horatio Alger, Davy Crockett, the Donner Party...

Martin Blank:
When I left, I joined the army, and when I took the service exam my psych profile fit a certain... moral flexibility would be the only way to describe it... and I was loaned out to a CIA-sponsored program, and we sort of found each other. That's how it works.

Martin Blank:
I know what I do isn't... moral, per se...

Martin Blank:
You can never go home again, Oatman... but I guess you can shop there.

Martin Blank:
[to himself, rehearsing] Hi! I'm Martin Blank, do you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.

Mr. Grocer:
See, kid, this is what I'm talking about. We could be working together again, for God's sake. You know? Making big money, killing important people!

Mr. Grocer:
Hey, hey, bing bing bing bing bang! POPCORN!

Mr. Grocer:
Easy there, chief. I don't see hollow-point wound care on the menu.

Mr. Grocer:
Uh-oh! Smells like a wedding! You're breaking my heart down here, Blank! I can't aim through the tears!

Mr. Grocer:
Like I'm gonna put a bullet hole in your F***IN' forehead and I'm gonna F*** the brain hole!

Marcella:
Sir, it's out of my hands. The gods want you to go back home, and they want you to delete someone while you're there.

Agent Steve Lardner:
You want to kill the good guy but not be the bad guy. It doesn't work like that. You've got to wait until the bad guy kills the good guy. Then when you kill the bad guy, you're the good guy.

Ultimart Clerk:
[after the convenience store blows up] No, I'm NOT all right! I'm hurt, I'm pissed... I gotta find a new job!

Bob Destepello:
You wanna do some blow?

Paul Spericki:
Wow. Just looking for a little validation for my life but apparently came up SHORT!

Paul Spericki:
I'll see you at the "I've-Peaked-and-I'm-Kidding-Myself" party.