Bad Santa2003

Gin:
Look here, get himy outta here and I'll go smooth things over with Chipeska, Tell him it was food poisoning or something.

Marcus:
What do you mean, get him outta here?

Gin:
Take him to the car.

Marcus:
In case you didn't notice I'm a motherf***ing dwarf, so unless you got a forklift handy, maybe you should lend a hand hmm?

Gin:
That figures. You want all kind of set-asides. Special treatment 'cause your handicapped. You're all the same.

Marcus:
Special treatment? I'm 3-foot-f***ing-tall you a**hole! It's a matter of physics. Draw me a sketch of how I get him to the car, huh?

Gin:
B*tch, B*tch, B*tch!

Marcus:
Sketch it up, you f***ing moron. F***ing Leonardo da Vinci.

Gin:
What'd you call me thigh-high?

Marcus:
I called you a f***ing guinea homo from the 15th-f***ing-century, you d*ckhead!

Gin:
I could stick you up my ass, small fry.

Marcus:
Yeah? You sure it ain't too sore from last night?

Gin:
You got some lip on you midget.

Marcus:
yeah? Well these lips were on your wife's p*ssy last night. Why don't you dust that thing off once in a while? A**hole!