you're under arrest.
have a seat. good to see you, buddy ol' pal.
why do you show your parole officer such disrespect? especially after i got you such a nice job.
the auction house, asshole. one night's work and you're free like no ex-con's ever been. no checking in with a shrink, no community service teaching retards how to play air hockey. it's a great deal, i can't lie.
you wouldn't be out if it wasn't for me! i did dog and pony for you! you think they would have let you out after what you did, you told the board members they looked like the three stooges.
remember that guy in the cell next to you who hung himself?
remember that shoe you lost.
one phone call and your shoe will become a piece of evidence and that suicide'll become a murder.
that's the beauty. it's bullshit, but i can make it stick because i'm a good guy parole officer and you re a bad guy who's about to find out that there's a thin line between ex-con and escape con.
beat it, alex. you're a dinosaur.
you're full of shit.
hudson hawkins gets the chair of honor. how about a gates-arita? i used real hot dogs.
all this trouble for a horsey. i may not know art, but i know what i like.
so when's that sebastian-cabot- buckingham-palace-looking- butlerhead getting here?
oh, sorry jeeves. gates-arita?
hey, mr. french, i'm delirious for you. now where's my cut?
you son-of-a. i don't believe this! you come into my house!
i ought to take big ben and shove it up your limey blimey bunghole!
like i said. where's my cu-u-.