Steve quotes

[on Drake Sabitch] This guy is like Leatherface, Chucky and Jan Brady all rolled into one.

Are you or are you not the Black Angel of Death?

(Trying to pronounce "roads") Row-ads. Roods.

Steve: This is great I never win at checkers.
Mike: Yes, well, it's kinda easy to win when you NEVER MOVE YOUR BACK ROW!

Steve: check it out. This fridge is only being held by this plug. (Pulls plug out, and the fridge rolls toward Mike, crashing into him and running him into a wall.)
Steve: Are you okay? Mike: I'm just dandy! I got a bowl of chocolate pudding in my underpants!
Steve: We didn't have any pudding in there buddy.

Mike: Come on, Roger, let me talk to Al it can only take a minute.
Roger: "Al, doesn't wanna speak to you.
Mike: What do you mean Al doesn't wanna speak to me? Why?

[the roof has blown off the house and it begins to hail all over Mike who is in the top bunk] Steve: Hey Mike, 'I got dibs on top' Ha ha.
Mike: Shut up!
Steve: Ha ha ha ha ha.
Mike: Why don't you shut up?
Steve: Heh heh, 'Hello Washington'. Ha ha ha.
Mike: SHUT UP!

Steve: [completely doped on the nitrous oxide] ... But, this map is heavy... It's got all of those... robes on it. Robes? Rogues?
Mike: [also stoned; giggling] Roads!
Steve, Mike: Aahahahaha!
Mike: [suddenly stops laughing] I'm stoned... so are you!
[looks in the backseat] Mike: Dammit! The nitrous oxide's leaking into the car! OK, calm down... we just gotta keep under the speed limit... limit...
[starts giggling again] Mike: Limit! Haha, that's another one of those freaky words!

Governor Tracy: I have heard the voice of the voters and the voters said...
[Mike is screaming for help while hoisting by his underwear on a satellite dish] Governor Tracy: ...Holy Shit!

Mike: [cheering on Rock the Vote Crowd] Yea! Kill whitey!
[crowd goes silent] Rastafarian: No! No! No!

[a bat flies out at them] Steve: What the heck is that?
Mike: Ah! It's Ozzy Osborne!

[Steve comes back sprayed with a fire extinguisher] Mike: Whoa, what happened to you? Did you fall into some mud or something?
Steve: Yeah, I did. And now I'm gonna be famous because I'm the only one in the world who knows where you can find white mud.

Motorcycle Cop: Could you take him through here a little faster than seven miles per hour, Officer...
Mike: Meoff, Jack. [turns to Steve and mouths "Jack Meoff"]

Governor Tracy: Now you'll have to tell me your name so I know who to make the check out to.
Clyde: My best friends call me "Cash."

Mike: What the hell was that?
Steve: A chunk in the road or something.
Mike: I just chunked in my pants.

Mike: [dressed as security guard] Please move away from this vector and get into another coordinate pronto. There's no access for you in this quadrant.
Teen: Man, why don't you goose-step on down to the women and children over there and give them your little power trip, because they may be impressed by it, asshole!
Mike: Young man, I'm gonna twist off your head and spike it onto the floors of a nightmare you can't even imagine! I will dance with you inside the six-sided ring of fire, unless you move from this area, far and fast, NOW!

Motorcycle Cop: Tell me, officer, do you have any idea how fast you were going?
Mike: Well, I got a 426 hemi here, 3/4 cams, nitro boosters, I can get 'er up to as good as 155! Never do, though, of course, unless I'm chasing a cute chick in a Ferrari! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I guess I was goin' about... 65, tops.
State Trooper: Seven. Seven miles an hour. And normally, when I stop people, they pull onto the shoulder.

[Mike is pretending to be a cop, Steve is pretending to be a prisoner] Steve: Ro-ads. Roods.
Mike: Quiet back there! I've taken enough guff from you for one day!
[turns to state trooper] Mike: Raving psycho! Butchered 400 chickens and screwed a beagle. I'm taking him back to Nevada where he's wanted for banging horses!

Drake: I'm not far from dragging you out of the car and beating you to dust.
Steve: You should work up to that, kinda leaves you nowhere to go.

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