Tropic Thunder

— We are Flaming Dragon! <...> Send $50 million, or you no see Simple Jack again because we kill him.
— This is Les Grossman. Who is this?
— This is Flaming Dragon!
— Okay. Flaming Dragon. Fuckface. First, take a big step back and literally fuck your own face! Now, I don't know what kind of pan-Pacific bullshit power play you're trying to pull here, but Asia, Jack, is my territory. So whatever you're thinking, you better think again. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to head down there, and I will rain down an ungodly fucking firestorm upon you. You're gonna have to call the fucking United Nations and get a fucking binding resolution to keep me from fucking destroying you. I am talking scorched earth, motherfucker! I will massacre you! I will fuck you up!... Could you find out who that was?

— Flaming Dragon's a heroin manufacturer. They're responsible for an eighth of the drug trade in Asia. Huge profit margin. <...>
— Les Grossman.
— We not get money yet. Price now 100 million! You pay now, or tomorrow Simple Jack die.
— Great. Let me get this down. 100 million. Wait! I got a better idea. Instead of 100 million, how about I send you a hobo's dick cheese? Then you kill him! Do your thing! Skin the fucking bastard! Go to town, man! Go to town! In the meantime, and as usual, go fuck yourself! We don't negotiate with terrorists.

— He's in a meeting.
— Yeah, I know. In about two seconds with the Pecker.
— I'm gonna rip your fucking tits off. You wanna talk about trouble? That's trouble. <...> Look, fuckstick, I'm incredibly busy, so why don't you get the hell out of here before I snap your dick off and jam it into your ass?