Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

Harry:
[voiceover] I was wetter than Drew Barrymore at a grunge club.

Harry:
It was the first time I felt how pitying someone and wanting to f*** them can get all tangled up in your head. Overwhelming sadness, meanwhile you got a Rodney. Is that sick? I think… yeah… I think that's sick.

Harry:
Still gay?

Gay Perry:
Me? No, I'm knee-deep in p*ssy. I just love the name so much I can't get rid of it.

[Harry catches Agent Type feeling up Harmony, who's passed out.]

Harry:
You know what? You'd better be her doctor.

[Agent Type looks up, busted.]

Harry:
Walk away, don't think, just do it.

Agent Type:
What are you, her brother or something? It's none of your business, man. I will f*** you up.

Harry:
[coolly] No. You'll try, and that little experiment will end in tears, my friend. So, again for the cheap seats, do not think, walk the f*** away - or let's you and me go outside right now. It's past my bedtime. Make a choice.

[Cut to Agent Type beating Harry up.]

Harry:
Umm, clearly I'm interrupting. I feel badly. Let me... What are you drinking?

Harmony:
Bad.

Harry:
Bad? Sorry... feel...?

Harmony:
You feel bad.

Harry:
Bad?

Harmony:
Badly is an adverb. So to say you feel badly would be saying that the mechanism which allows you to feel is broken.

Harmony:
[about the blonde woman in the room] She's been f***ed more times than she's had hot meals.

Harry:
Mmmm, I heard about that. It was neck and neck until she skipped lunch.

Perry:
How about you, Harry, did your father love you?

Harry:
Ah, sometimes, you know - like when I dressed up like a bottle. How about yours?

Perry:
Well, he used to beat me in Morse code, so it's possible, but he never actually said the words.

Harry:
Do you think I'm stupid?

Gay Perry:
I don't think you'd know how to feed yourself, if you didn't flap your mouth so much. Yes I think you're stupid.

Gay Perry:
Look up idiot in the dictionary. You know what you'll find?

Harry:
A picture of me?

Gay Perry:
No! The definition of the word "idiot"! Which you f***ing are!

Gay Perry:
Go. Sleep badly. Any questions, hesitate to call.

Harry:
Bad.

Gay Perry:
Excuse me?

Harry:
Sleep bad. Otherwise it makes it seem like the mechanism that allows you to sleep...

Gay Perry:
What, f***head? Who taught you grammar? Badly's an adverb. Get out. Vanish.

Harry:
Perry?

Gay Perry:
Yeah?

Harry:
I peed on it.

Gay Perry:
What? You peed on what?

Harry:
I peed on the corpse. Can they do, like, ID from that?

Gay Perry:
I'm sorry, you peed on...?

Harry:
On the corpse. My question is...

Gay Perry:
No, my question, I get to go first: Why in pluperfect hell would you pee on a corpse?

Harry:
I didn't intend to! It's not like I did it for kicks!

Harry:
What is it out here with these women?

Harmony:
Oh please, Harry, they're no different from anywhere else.

Harry:
Yes, they are. These are damaged goods, every one of them, from way back. I'm telling you, you take a guy who sleeps with 100 women a year, go into his childhood - dollars to doughnuts, it's relatively unspectacular... Now, you take one of these... gals, who sleeps with 100 guys a year, and I bet you if you look in their childhood, there's something rotten in Denver.

Harmony:
Denmark.

Harry:
That too! But it's abandonment, it's abuse, it's, "My uncle put his ping-ping in my papa!"... and then they all come out here! I swear to God, it's like somebody took America by the East Coast, and shook it, and all the normal girls managed to hang on.

Harmony:
OK, everyone who hates Harry raise your hand!

[All the girls in the club raise their hands.]

Gay Perry:
See that? Obedient little b*tches too.

[Off-screen girl shouts "F*** you!" and tosses a glass at Perry which he dodges]

Gay Perry:
I want you to picture a bullet inside your head right now. Can you do that for me?

Gunman:
F*** you. Anyway, that's ambiguous.

Gay Perry:
Ambiguous. No, no, I don't think so.

Harry:
No, I think what he means is that when you say "Picture it inside your head", okay, is that that a bullet will be inside your head. Or picture it in your head.

Gay Perry:
Harry will you shut up.

Harry:
Well, he's got a point.

Gunman:
Look, I don't know anything about a girl, seriously. I was bluffing.

[Harry begins unloading his revolver]

Harry:
Oh okay, you know what? I think you are bluffing right now.

Gay Perry:
Harry, what are you doing?

Harry:
[sticks one bullet in the cylinder and spins it] Well what I am doing for the guy who likes to bluff, is I am playing a little game called "Am I bluffing?" Where is she? Where the f*** is Harmony?

Gay Perry:
Harry...

Harry:
[spins the cylinder again and closes it] You want to play hard ball, I can do that. Where...is...the girl!

[The gun unexpectedly fires into the gunman's head]

Gay Perry:
What...did you just do!?!?!

Harry:
There was only one bullet in that right?

Gay Perry:
You put a live round into that gun?

Harry:
Well I didn't know, I thought there was like an...eight percent chance.

Gay Perry:
Eight?

Harry:
Eight...

Gay Perry:
Eight!? Who taught you math!?

Gay Perry:
Is that the body?

Harry:
No, that's the other corpse, from the last guy who stayed here.

Gay Perry:
F*** off.

Harry:
I guess, in the end, this is a movie about friendship. Friendship is precious...

Gay Perry:
Will you shut up? [to the audience] Thanks for coming, please stay for the end credits. If you're wondering who the best boy is, it's somebody's nephew. Um, don't forget to validate your parking, and to all you good people in the Midwest, sorry we said "f***" so much.

A bad week in a tough town.

Sex. Murder. Mystery. Welcome to the party.

Harry:
Oh Wow. Woo. It's tiny. Is this real?

Gay Perry:
Yeah, it's a Derringer. It's loaded. I call it my f*ggot gun.

Harry:
Because...

Gay Perry:
Because its only good for a couple shots, then you gotta drop it for something better. You asked, Chief.

Gay Perry:
Merry Christmas, sorry I f***ed you over.

Harry:
No problem. Don't quit your gay job.

[Perry confronts Harmony's sexually abusive father]

Harmony's Dad:
Do I know you?

Gay Perry:
No. Just in town for the funeral.

Harmony's Dad:
What do you want?

Gay Perry:
Well, I was going to go to the zoo, but it was closed, so I thought I'd come here and look at an animal.

Harmony's Dad:
Son of a... Who do you think you're talking to? I buried my daughter today!

Gay Perry:
No. You buried her twenty years ago. Harmony was right, her sister was murdered. You pulled the trigger. It just took this long for the bullet to hit.

Harmony's Dad:
Who are you? I loved my girl.

[Perry backhands him]

Harmony's Dad:
You f***er! If I could get out of this bed...

Gay Perry:
Yeah? Well, you can't.

[Perry backhands him again]

Harmony's Dad:
You bastard! Old man that can't defend himself. Big tough guy.

Gay Perry:
Yeah, that's right. Big tough guy.

Harry:
That's it. That's the true story of what happened last Christmas. [Lights a cigarette] That was some pretty harsh sh*t. The old guy back there, right? [Mimics the slapping] But, whatever, he's creepy, f*** him, don't worry 'bout him. Uh, anyhow, so, um, thanks for coming. Thanks for taking the trip to L.A. with me. Uh...I mean, if I have to-to sum it up, and I do, cause it's like, you know, the end, I would say this movie is..is about friendship. Friendship is...is...is sacred.

Gay Perry:
What are you doing?

Harry:
I'm just trying to wrap up the movie, and leave the people a message.

Gay Perry:
Oh. Well, I got a message for ya. Get your feet off my f***ing desk.

Harry:
Sorry. I work for Perry now-

Gay Perry:
[Covers Harry's mouth] And stop narrating. [to the audience] That's it, please stay for the end credits. If you're wondering who the best boy is, it's somebody's nephew. Um, don't forget to validate your parking, and to all you good people in the Midwest, sorry we said "f***" so much. Say "Good night". [Uncovers Harry's mouth]

Harry:
Thanks, again.

Gay Perry:
Now go. Vanish. [Turns off the camera]

Harry:
I tell him about destiny; he's shaking his head. About dream girls; he doesn't care. I mention the underwear thing? He has a f***ing conniption. And you? How 'bout it, filmgoer? Have you solved the case of the - the dead people in L.A.? Times Square audiences, please don't shout at the screen, and stop picking at that, it'll just get worse.

Harry:
Don't worry, I saw Lord of the Rings. I'm not going to end this 17 times.

Harry:
Wow, I feel sore. I mean physically, not like a guy who's angry in a movie in the 1950's.

Harry:
Anyway, by now you may wonder how I wound up here. Or, maybe not. Maybe you wonder how silly putty picks sh*t up from comic books. The point is, I don't see another Goddamn narrator, so pipe down.