Reservoir Dogs1992

Joe:
So, you guys like to tell jokes, huh? Gigglin' and laughin' like a bunch of young broads sittin' in a schoolyard. Well, let me tell a joke. Five guys, sittin' in a bullpen, in San Quentin. All wondering how the f*** they got there. What should we have done, what didn't we do, who's fault is it, is it my fault, your fault, his fault, all that bullshit. Then one of them says, hey. Wait a minute. When we were planning this caper, all we did was sit around tellin' f***in' jokes! Get the message? Boys, I don't mean to holler at ya. When this caper's over - and I'm sure it'll be a successful one - we'll get down to the Hawaiian Islands, hell, I'll roll and laugh with all of ya. You'll find me a different character down there. Right now, it's a matter of business. With the exception of Eddie and myself, whom you already know, we're going to be using aliases on this job. Under no circumstances do I want any one of you to relate to each other by your Christian names, and I don't want any talk about yourself personally. That includes where you been, your wife's name, where you might've done time, or maybe a bank you robbed in St. Petersburg. All I want you guys to talk about, if you have to, is what you're going to do. That should do it. Here are your names... [pointing to each respective member] Mr. Brown, Mr. White, Mr. Blonde, Mr. Blue, Mr. Orange, and Mr. Pink.

Mr. Pink:
Why am I Mr. Pink?

Joe:
Because, you're a f*ggot, alright?!

[Mr. Brown laughs]

Mr. Pink:
Why can't we pick our own colors?

Joe:
No way, no way. Tried it once, doesn't work. You got four guys all fighting over who's gonna be Mr. Black, but they don't know each other, so nobody wants to back down. No way. I pick. You're Mr. Pink. Be thankful you're not Mr. Yellow.

Mr. Brown:
Yeah, but Mr. Brown? That's a little too close to Mr. Sh*t.

Mr. Pink:
Mr. Pink sounds like Mr. P*ssy. How 'bout if I'm Mr. Purple? That sounds good to me. I'll be Mr. Purple.

Joe:
You're not Mr. Purple. Some guy on some other job is Mr. Purple. You're Mr. PINK.

Mr. White:
Who cares what your name is?

Mr. Pink:
Yeah, that's easy for your to say, you're Mr. White. You have a cool-sounding name. Alright look, if it's no big deal to be Mr. Pink, you wanna trade?

Joe:
Hey! NOBODY'S trading with ANYBODY. This ain't a goddamn, f***ing city council meeting, you know. Now listen up, Mr. Pink. There's two ways you can go on this job: my way or the highway. Now what's it gonna be, Mr. Pink?

Mr. Pink:
Jesus Christ, Joe, f***ing forget about it. It's beneath me. I'm Mr. Pink. Let's move on.

Joe:
I'll move on when I feel like it... All you guys got the goddamn message?... I'm so Goddamn mad, hollering at you guys, I can hardly talk. Pssh. Let's go to work.