Roger Meurtot

— I'm cutting the wire. Snip. See? All done. Rog.
— Yeah?
— Grab the cat.

— Tell me, Rog, was it red wire, blue...?
— Let's get out of here!
— Step on the gas.
— They'll never believe this.
— I hope nobody saw us.

— Hold it right there, pal. Step up here, please.
— What did I do?
— Stand there. What'd you do? Jaywalking. I saw you. I have to cite you.
— Jaywalking? Oh, Jesus, come on.
— Can you handle this or should I radio for backup?

— I slept with Sergeant Cole.
— Sergeant Cole from Traffic?
— No, not Sergeant Cole from Traffic. Lorna. Sergeant Cole from Traffic's her uncle.

Of course I am black. That's why I want to go. To join my brothers in the struggle against the racist fascist white minority regime!

— We're going to get bloody on this one.
— Are you really crazy? Or are you as good as you say you are?
— You're gonna have to trust me.

— You know, we should hire Leo.
— Hire Leo?
— Hire him. He can follow Uncle Benny around.
— Benny'll see him.
— Yeah. He'll drive him nuts.
— Benny'll shoot him. Let's hire him.

— Put it in the glove compartment.
— No, no. I don't do that anymore.
— Oh, yeah? Good man.
— No, it's full up already. Put it in the back seat.

— You can't settle every problem with your fists.
— I couldn't use my gun. There was a crowd.

— Well, I knew you couldn't stop smoking.
— I'm smoking to take my mind off my dog-biscuit problem.
— What dog-biscuit problem?
— I've been chasing more cars lately... and, uh, when I try and lick my balls, I keep falling off the couch.

— We shouldn't do this!
— Come on, don't be a killjoy! We're back! You're black, I'm mad.