Thundercrack!

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
Shut the hell up, Goddamn puppet! You're nothing but a puppet for the Weather Bureau, and they pull the string that makes your mouth go up and down. I'll bet you don't even know what the hell an isobar is... [laughs] And don't go telling me it's some kind of a popsicle!

Willene:
That filthy man! I'm afraid you've opened your doors as well as your heart to the scum of the planet!

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
Here on spaceship Earth, there is no scum. There are just malfunctioning circuits.

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
My son... OUR son no longer exists.

Willene:
Oh, Mrs. Hammond, I'm really sorry. I didn't realize that tragedy had struck you twice. Is he dead, then?

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
No. He does not exist.

Willene:
Well, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, but I certainly wouldn't be callous enough to dwell on the subject.

Toydy:
I don't have to worry about hunger. Of the stomach. Just the other hunger. The one more ravishing that I worry about. But why worry? Wasn't there something I read or heard in church, something about birds? Birds don't worry about eating, and yet God provides plenty of food. But I... I'm not satisfied with just worms! I need something more substantial.

Roo:
Howdy, stranger. No need to ask if you need a lift. We all need one in this kind of weather. The real question - the $64,000 question - is how high do you wanna get?

Toydy:
Why did you bring what I was told was a lily-white butt out in this rain?

Sash:
My butt's white from being so numb after two days of driving. But it used to be red when we used to live in Tucson. If only you could have seen it then.

Toydy:
Gee, ma'am, I ain't even seen the white one yet. So quit jumping the gun.

Sash:
Oh, you'll see it, all right. Just a matter of time.

Toydy:
Well, I'm for letting it all hang out. That's been my motto since I was 17.

Roo:
I'm sure what you have to hang out is well worth exposing to the light of day. Or, for that matter, a 6-watt overhead lamp. Care to surface your breathing snorkel?

Sash:
You didn't tell him, Roo, did you? Because if you told him...

Roo:
I have to tell him now, Sash. I can't leave him hanging in the air when he's giving me what I want right in the palm of my hand.

Bond:
It's just that...

Chandler:
What, Bond? My gazes? My admiring glances at your rather extravagant torso put you ill at ease?

Bond:
Well, no. It's just that that's all you're doing is just looking.

Chandler:
You mean you were expecting me to do something else? Me? Chandler Wilson? Heir to the Wilson fortune? And widower of Sarah Lou Phillips from the House of Phillips Unlimited?

Bond:
You mean the House of Phillips, that big girdle manufacturing plant down in Waco?

Chandler:
Yes. That's exactly what I mean. That big girdle factory in central Texas where everything grows big, especially a middle-age gut.

Bond:
I'm a scared of that.

Chandler:
Scared of what?

Bond:
Middle-aged gut.

Chandler:
What did I do wrong, Chandler? That's the second time that you've flown off the handle tonight. The first time is when I wanted to show you that tattoo on my thigh.

Chandler:
I told you at the time that I had no interest whatsoever in looking at a tattoo of a dodo bird.

Bond:
But they're extinct! You can't see them anymore!

Chandler:
I'm well aware of that, Bond, but I think that having one tattooed on your hairy thigh is in extreme poor taste, especially considering that the species has vanished forever.

Bond:
But my thigh isn't hairy.

Bond:
Didn't your wife pass away recently? I seem to remember reading something about it somewhere.

Chandler:
My wife, Sarah Lou Phillips, daughter of Leland, the creator of the House of Phillips Unlimited, died last year. Died a horrible death.

Bond:
I'm terribly sorry.

Chandler:
For her or for me?

Bond:
For the both of you.

Chandler:
Well, reserve your bleeding heart strictly for her. Our marriage was going up in smoke anyway. It's just that she turned the expression into a reality.

Chandler:
You're very observant, Bond. Is that where you got your good looking body? From chasing fire engines down the street?

Bond:
I work hard to get this body looking the way it does.

Chandler:
Well, I bet you have. And is the investment paying off?

Bond:
Not tonight, it isn't.

Chandler:
Bond, I, uh... I find you very attractive. So attractive that I want to throw you out of this car!

Bond:
Well, I don't get it. If you find me so attractive, why the hell would you want to throw me out of the car? I mean, I'm the one that ought to be getting out of this car voluntarily, knowing what's on your mind.

Chandler:
It's been a year since I've had any worthwhile sexual encounters.

Bond:
Is that when your wife died?

Chandler:
Oh, to hell with her! When I mentioned Sarah Lou Phillips, heiress to The House of Phillips Unlimited, I'm not talking about worthwhile sex. It wasn't sex that we shared in the dark on that Castro Convertible sofa her mother bought us. No. No, that was infantile perversion!

Bond:
I want you to tell me about it, Chandler.

Chandler:
Why? Why would a clean, good-looking kid like you want to delve into the filth of the rich?

Bond:
'Cause it's a dark, stormy night and there ain't nothin' but this cigarette and a light on the radio dial and the rain... and your face in that light. You got a nice face, Chandler. You got a real nice face.

Chandler:
Give me a puff of that cigarette, kid.

Bond:
First it's a pipe. Now it's a cigarette. What's it gonna be next, Chandler? White Owl cigar maybe?

Chandler:
You've got an uncanny way of getting under my skin.

Bond:
Wouldn't it be much nicer if I got into it rather than under it?

Willene:
You're talking like some sort of beatnik.

Chandler:
And supposing I am, what have you got against beatniks?

Willene:
Well, for one thing, their bongo drums. I can't stand all that stupid pounding.

Bond:
We ought to go back. There might be people dying back there.

Chandler:
There are people up ahead who are dying too.

Chandler:
Listen kid, I vowed before embarking on this trip that once I started, I was never looking back. Now, I'm going to Waco, Texas, to that great giant girdle factory that stands like a mammoth mausoleum to the memory of my dead wife, Sarah Lou Phillips.

Willene:
You mean Sarah Lou Phillips of the House of Phillips Unlimited?

Bond:
Yeah. That's what he's talking about.

Chandler:
And I don't intend to water down my mission, the only mission I've got in life, just because some ball of fire lights up the night sky in this godforsaken nowhere land. No, the ball of fire I've got planned is going to rival the sun itself. You mark my words, Bond. It's gonna turn night into day!

Willene:
God bless you and keep you, for the devil walks about on nights such as this!

[Willene Cassidy knocks]

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
Who is it? Who's that knocking at my door? Is that you, Mr. Maple Tree? Is the wind making you bang your branches against my door?

Willene:
Hello in there. Anybody home?

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
Oh, my God. That was a human voice. That was a woman's voice calling from behind that door! Who is it that speaks to me with the voice of a woman?

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
Why couldn't she have telephoned before coming over? It isn't fair after all these years that someone should knock on my door and not even warn me of their visit! Thirty minutes' warning, that's all I ask. One half-hour to bathe and scent my body in preparation for the ensuing visitation.

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
Oh, my God. I'm seeing double. I'm so drunk, I can't possibly hold an audience with Mrs. Cassidy. Oh, what'll she think of me? She'll pity me! I'll be a disgrace to the memory of my dead husband.

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
My name is Mrs. Gert Hammond. Welcome to Prairie Blossom, the name my husband and I chose for the estate you are now standing on.

Willene:
What happened to your head?

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
Please, let me finish. Our home, built upon a stretch of prairie between the Chickasaw and Thunderbird Rivers, was built by hand with loving care by my husband, Charlie, who now lies buried in the wine cellar beneath our very feet.

Willene:
Oh, my dear, wretched woman! How could God in his mercy leave you alone in this wilderness?

Willene:
I'm gonna cleanse you with the waters that are in such a profusion tonight. How many days and nights has your womanly body been deprived of a washcloth?

Mrs. Gert Hammond:
What do the widows of the world need with a washcloth?

Willene:
Well, soap, for one thing.