Jail Binger:
I don’t like soldier boys.
Highway:
Say what?
Jail Binger:
If you wanna pop that puppy’s can you don’t have to grease him so hard, jarhead.
Highway:
Well, it sounds like you’re a man of experience.
Jail Binger:
What the hell’s that supposed to mean, grunge shit.
Highway:
It means: Be advised. I’m mean, nasty and tired. I eat concertina wire and piss napalm and I can put a round in a flea’s ass at 200 meters. So why don’t you go hump somebody else’s leg, mutt face, before I push yours in.
Jail Binger:
Ain’t gonna be so smart with your balls stuffed in your mouth, jarhead!
Highway:
[hands cigar to the young man]
Hang on to this, boy. I think war’s just been declared.

Fortsätt läsa Heartbreak ridge (1986) →