Hopscotch
1980
Yaskov: I could make a run for it, you know. Kendig: Come on, Yaskov. You running, me chasing? We'd look like Laurel and Hardy.
Myerson: Now I know what the FBI stands for. "Fucking, Ball-busting Imbeciles"!
Myerson: The son of a bitch is dead, finally. Cutter: The son of a bitch better stay dead.
Yaskov: We're having our picture taken. Kendig: That's Follett. He's an idiot. Probably no film in the camera.
Kendig: Yours was gin and ginger ale, right? Isobel von Schonenberg: Mine was NEVER gin and ginger ale. Montrochet '69, right next to the beer.
Carla: You seem like a nice man. You remind me of my father. Kendig: That's always been my problem.
(Myerson, Cutter and Ross arrive at the heliport, about to make the strike on Kendig. Yaskov is waiting for them there) Myerson: (growls) Now, I wanna know - Cutter: I owe him one. (to Yaskov) This is the quid-pro-quo, right? (Yaskov nods to Cutter, then smiles antagonistically at Myerson)
(On the phone, tracing Kengig's location) Myerson: ... You're kidding! (hangs up) I don't believe this... I DON'T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!... Sorry, Beverly. He actually had the balls to hide out in MY HOUSE!
Kendig: The cleaning lady will untie you in the morning. Cutter: I hope she's pretty...
Kendig: Hey, Myerson. Say, I thought you were taller. I don't remember you being this short - how'd you get so short? Myerson: Up yours, Kendig.
Isobel von Schonenberg: An American without ice in his drink is unthinable, if not unconstitutional!