Character: Robert Joseph Maccready

Don't worry, slim. You're still admiring my ass when I shit on your grave.

You, on the head attached? You get me every time in the empty watermelon, which you have, instead of the skull, wanders to the idea?

More stuff for us, more chances that you get shot, and you'll come crawling back here, spitting blood, while we laugh and poke your fingers, right? Like a good idea.