The Wheeler Dealers

Henry Tyroon:
You don't go wheelin' 'n' dealin' for money. You do it for fun. Money's just the way you keep score.

[they have discovered that Universal Widgets has no factory, but Molly is still supposed to sell their stock and Henry says he'll help her]

Molly Thatcher:
Henry, you're an operator; but do you know anything about the stock market?

Henry Tyroon:
Well, I know the stock market is money and emotion. There's hope when you start out, greed on the way up, fear on the way down. I know that, uh, the stock market is people... and if there's anything you can't sell people, I've yet to find out what it is. These people need a reason to buy. The beauty of it is: the reason doesn't have to make sense.

Molly Thatcher:
You're not thinking of anything illegal are you?

Henry Tyroon:
I'm never illegal. I'm just close to it.

Molly Thatcher:
I don't understand. How can you buy something when you don't even know what it is?

Ray Jay:
Well, you see, ma'am, Henry here is a real wheeler dealer. And a wheeler dealer is somebody that loves to find places for money to go. It's like hitchin' on to a star. You may zoom up to the sky on a mighty pretty ride.

Molly Thatcher:
And if the star falls?

Henry Tyroon:
Well, then I find some way for the, uh, government to take three-quarters of the loss.

Jay Ray:
You see, Miss Thatcher, that's the mark of a REAL wheeler dealer.

[the judge is reading the long list of charges brought against Henry Tyroon et al]

Judge:
Mr. Vanson, this indictment seems to be a little enthusiastic!

Hector Vanson:
Well, they're a pretty slippery bunch, your honor. I had to throw the book at 'em.

[Henry's latest oilwell has come in a "duster"]

Billy Joe:
Well, you can't sell dust, Henry. So you better hightail it up to the big city and get yourself some shoppin' money quick. Yes.

Billy Joe:
Billy Joe, is money all you ever think about?

Billy Joe:
Henry, I am an accountant. I'm supposed to think about money. So you go on up north and raise one million two startin' right now, or you're broke. Yes. Henry, you're a rich man... and a rich man can't afford to go broke.

[in his office, Bear is telling Whitby to fire Molly to save money - she gets up from her desk]

Bullard Bear:
Where is she going?

Whitby:
Her lunch club, I think.

Bullard Bear:
Women shouldn't be allowed to have lunch clubs. We gotta keep 'em off-balance, disorganized, clawing and scratching at each other. Otherwise they might turn on us like mad dogs!

Molly Thatcher:
Now, why do you suppose Mr. Bear wants me to fight off a large Texan?

Eloise Cott:
You think he's got more than business on his mind?

Molly Thatcher:
Every man has sex on the brain, like it's some sort of wonder drug... a cure-all for everything: colds, pleurisy, arthritis. I even had a guy once tell me that sex prevents cavities.

Eloise Cott:
Cavities? In your teeth?

Molly Thatcher:
Sure. When you're tense, you have more acids in your mouth; and acids eat enamel. When you get rid of the tension, you get rid of the acids. And the best way to get rid of tension...

Eloise Cott:
Don't tell me! let me guess.

[Henry is complaing about how hard it is to get a cab in New York]

Feinberg, Taxi Driver:
You're just like my wife, mister. You don't understand the economics of the situation.

Henry Tyroon:
Then teach me. I'm interested in the economics of about every situation.

Feinberg, Taxi Driver:
Well, there are 11,000 cabs in the city - and no new permits for the next twenty-five years. Now suppose you wanna buy a cab and start hackin'... you gotta get a new permit, too. Now the tab on a new permit is eighteen thousand five hundred on the open market.

Henry Tyroon:
And how much did your cab cost, Mister [looks at driver's ID] Feinberg?

Feinberg, Taxi Driver:
Thirty-three hundred... new.

Henry Tyroon:
Mm-hmm. Then that makes your investment, uh, with the permit, come to about $22,000.

Feinberg, Taxi Driver:
Yeah. But don't tell my wife... she'll think I'm rich.

Henry Tyroon:
Mm-hmm. Mr. Feinberg, I'll give you $24,000 for your cab and permit.

Feinberg, Taxi Driver:
You wanna buy the cab?

Henry Tyroon:
Right. But you come along with it. I'll need your services for a week, maybe two.

Feinberg, Taxi Driver:
No, look, mister, I can't sell the cab. I need it.

Henry Tyroon:
Well, I figured that. So, when I leave I'll sell it back to you for... $22,000.

Feinberg, Taxi Driver:
You wanna lose two grand just to keep your feet dry when it starts to rain?

Henry Tyroon:
I don't lose, Mr. Feinberg. See, I borrow the money and then I get a deduction on the loan interest and another on the depreciation and another on the loss when I sell it back to you. And you make a nice profit.

Feinberg, Taxi Driver:
You win and I win. Uh-uh, there's gotta be a loser somewhere.

Henry Tyroon:
Taxman loses. He usually does on a Henry Tyroon deal.

Feinberg, Taxi Driver:
Mister, you've just got yourself a taxi.

Stanislas:
Look man, if you're going to walk on my canvas, the least you can do is put a little crimson on your soles.