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A drop-out from upper-class America picks up work along the way on oil-rigs when his life isn't spent in a squalid succession of bars, motels, and other points of interest.
[Bobby wants plain toast, which isn't on the menu] Bobby: I'd like an omelet, plain, and a chicken salad sandwich on wheat toast, no mayonnaise, no butter, no lettuce. And a cup of coffee. Waitress: A #2, chicken salad sand. Hold the butter, the lettuce, the mayonnaise, and a cup of coffee. Anything else? Bobby: Yeah, now all you have to do is hold the chicken, bring me the toast, give me a check for the chicken salad sandwich, and you haven't broken any rules. Waitress: You want me to hold the chicken, huh? Bobby: I want you to hold it between your knees.
Catherine: You're a strange person, Robert. I mean, what will you come to? If a person has no love for himself, no respect for himself, no love of his friends, family, work, something - how can he ask for love in return? I mean, why should he ask for it?
Bobby: What else do you do? Catherine: Well, there's fishing, boating, and concerts on the mainland. [Laughs] Catherine: I feel funny telling you this. This is really your home. You probably know better than I what there is to do. Bobby: Nothing. Catherine: Nothing? Bobby: Nothing. Catherine: Well, it must be very boring for you here. Bobby: That's right. Catherine: I find that very hard to comprehend. I don't think I've ever been bored. Excuse me.
Bobby: [finally talking with his paralyzed father] I don't know if you'd be particularly interested in hearing anything about me. My life, I mean... Most of it doesn't add up to much that I could relate as a way of life that you'd approve of... I'd like to be able to tell you why, but I don't really... I mean, I move around a lot because things tend to get bad when I stay. And I'm looking... for auspicious beginnings, I guess... I'm trying to, you know, imagine your half of this conversation... My feeling is, that if you could talk, we probably wouldn't be talking. That's pretty much how it got to be before... I left... Are you all right? I don't know what to say... Tita suggested that we try to... I don't know. I think that she... seems to feel we've got... some understanding to reach... She totally denies the fact that we were never that comfortable with each other to begin with... The best that I can do, is apologize. We both know that I was never really that good at it, anyway... [sobbing] Bobby: I'm sorry it didn't work out.
Betty: That's a wig you wear, isn't it? Bobby: Me? Betty: Yeah, I told her it was you but that you were wearin' a wig because on the TV you're mostly all, uh - [pats him on the head] Betty: bald up there! [laughs] Bobby: [laughs] Your, your little friend's real, real sharp. Uh, I don't, uh, I don't wear the wig on TV because if you're gonna be out there in front of two and a half million people, you've got to be sincere. I mean, I like to wear it when I'm in bowling alleys and slipping around, stuff like that. I think it gives me a little class. What do you think?
Rayette: That was real good, wasn't it? I finally did it! Bobby: Great. You throw the big Z's for 19 frames, and then you throw a strike on the last ball of a losing game. Wonderful. Just wonderful. [Turns around to bowlers at next lane] Bobby: Isn't that wonderful, ladies? Twinky: Are you talking to us? Bobby: Wonderful.
Elton: Well, what if she was, Bob? I can't see nothin' so bad in that. Well, what if I were to let you in on a little secret that she is? That's right. She told me. She's all torn up about it, too, which I hate to see. Well hell, isn't it somethin' you just have to face up to? I tell ya, somewhere along the line, you even get to likin' the whole idea. When Stoney first give me the news, I coulda shit! [Bobby spits out his food and throws down his food in disgust] Elton: Well isn't that nice? Bobby: It's ridiculous. I'm sittin' here listening to some cracker *asshole* lives in a trailer park compare his life to mine. Keep on tellin' me about the good life, Elton, because it makes me puke.
Betty: When I was four, just four years old, I went to my mother and I said, "What's this hole in my chin?" - I saw this dimple in my chin in the mirror, and didn't know what it was. And my mother said - get what my mother says - she says, "When you're born, you go on a assembly line past God, and if He likes you, He says, [grabs her cheeks with both her hands] Betty: "You cute little thing!" and you get dimples there. And if He doesn't like you, He goes, [presses one finger on her chin] Betty: "Go away." So about six months later, my mother found me saying my prayers, and I was going, [holds one hand over her chin] Betty: "Now I lay me down to sleep..." My mother says, "What are you covering up your chin for?" And I said, "Because if I cover up the hole, maybe He'll listen to me."
Bobby: You keep on talking about the good life, Elton, 'cause it makes me puke.
Bobby: [out of his car during a traffic jam, yelling at other motorists] Ants! Why don't we all line up like a goddamned bunch of ants! Its the most beautiful part of the day!
Bobby: What are you doing screwing around with all this crap? Catherine: I do not find your language very charming. Bobby: It isn't. It's direct. Catherine: I'd like you to leave so that I can take a bath. Is that direct?
Palm Apodaca: Fantastic that you could figure that all out and lie that down on her so you could come up with a way to get your toast. Fantastic! Bobby: Yeah, well, I didn't get it, did I? Palm Apodaca: No, but it was very clever. I would have just punched her out.
Palm Apodaca: Disposal. What's that but more crap? I've never seen such crap.
Rayette: I'm not. Bobby: You're just gonna sit here? Rayette: Yes. Bobby: Okay. I hope no one hits on you. Rayette: I hope they do.
Catherine: It's useless. Bobby: Look, give me a chance. Catherine: I'm trying to be delicate with you, but you just won't understand. I couldn't go with you. Not just because of Carl and my music, but because of you. Catherine: You're a strange person, Robert. I mean, what would it come to? If a person has no love for himself, no respect for himself, no love of his friends, family, work, something... How can he ask for love in return? I mean, why should he ask for it? Bobby: Living here in this rest home/asylum - that's what you want? Catherine: Yes. Bobby: That will make you happy? Catherine: I hope it will. Yes. Catherine: I'm sorry.
Bobby: Where are *you* goin'? Palm Apodaca: Alaska. Bobby: Alaska. What are you: on vacation? Terry: She wants to live there 'cause it's cleaner. Bobby: Cleaner. Cleaner than what? Palm Apodaca: You don't have to tell everybody about it. Pretty soon they'll all go there and it won't be so clean. Bobby: What makes you think it's cleaner? Palm Apodaca: I saw a picture of it. Alaska's very clean. It appeared to look very white to me. Don't you think? Bobby: Yep. That was before the big thaw. Palm Apodaca: Before the what?
Palm Apodaca: Hey, follow that truck. They know the best places to stop. Rayette: That's an old maid's tale. Palm Apodaca: Bullshit! Truck drivers are the only ones that know the best places to stop on the road. Rayette: Salesmen and cops are the ones. If you'd ever waitressed, honey, you'd know that. Palm Apodaca: Don't call me honey, mac. Rayette: Don't call me mac, honey.
Rayette: You love me, Bobby? Bobby: What do you think? [they kiss]
Palm Apodaca: I mean then it wouldn't be filthy with uh Coke bottles and whisky and uh - [takes a puff on her cigarette] Palm Apodaca:
Samia Glavia: ...It was just what I was trying to point out... Bobby: [interrupting] Don't sit there pointing at her. Samia Glavia: I beg your pardon. Bobby: I said don't point at her, you creep. Samia Glavia: But I was just telling about... Bobby: Where do you get the ass to tell anybody anything about class, or who the hell's got it, or what she typifies? You shouldn't even be in the same room with her, you pompous celibate... You're totally full of shit! You're all full of shit.
Palm Apodaca: I had to leave this place because I got depressed seeing all the crap. And the thing is, they're making more crap, you know? They got so many stores and stuff and junk full of crap I can't believe it. Bobby: Who? Palm Apodaca: Who? Man, that's who. Pretty soon there won't be any room for man. They're selling more crap that people go and buy than you can imagine. Crap.
Palm Apodaca: People. Animals are not like that. They're always cleaning themselves. Did you ever see, umm... pigeons? Well, he's always picking on himself and his friends. They're always picking bugs out of their hair all the time. Monkeys too. Except they do something out in the open that I don't go for.
Bobby: That's dangerous, you know. Catherine: Riding? Bobby: Mm-hmm. You play the piano all day and then jump on a horse, you could get cramps.
Catherine: [after hearing Robert play the piano] That was beautiful, Robert, I'm surprised. Bobby: Thank you. Catherine: I was really very moved by... What's wrong? Bobby: Nothing. It's just... I picked the easiest piece that I could think of. I first played it when I was 8-years-old, and I played it better then.
Palm Apodaca: [about her 1957 Dodge Coronet] Look at my car! Look at my car! I just bought it brand new from a used car lot, and the steering goes to pot on me!
Bobby: I move around a lot, not because I'm looking for anything really, but 'cause I'm getting away from things that get bad if I stay.
Elton: [singing] Do you wanna buy a ticket to the raffle of a dog/ That comes a-runnin', lickin', when you whistle, holler "Claude"?/ A big brown dog, just as sound as a ring/ He'll be eight years old if he lives 'til the spring./ Tickets, tickets, two for a quarter!/ If you haven't got your ticket yet, well, you'd better order!/ He'll wet your carpet and he'll fertilize your grass/ He's got three white feet and a hole in his ass!
Palm Apodaca: You know, I read where they, uh, invented this car that runs on, ummm... that runs on, ummm... when you boil water? Terry: Steam. Palm Apodaca: Right, steam. A car that you could ride around in and not cause a stink. But do you know they will not even let us have it? Can you believe it? Why? Man! He likes to create a stink! I mean, I've seen filth that you wouldn't believe. Ugh! What a stink! I don't even want to talk about it.
Rayette: I'm gonna play it again. Bobby: You play that thing one more time, I'm gonna melt it down into hairspray. Rayette: Let me play the other side then. Bobby: No, Rayette, it's not a question of sides. It's a question of musical integrity.