[Vinny is trying to dress properly for a hunting trip.]
Vinny: What about these pants I got on? You think they're okay? Oh!
Mona Lisa: Imagine you're a deer. You're prancing along. You get thirsty. You spot a little brook. You put your little deer lips down to the clear blue water... BAM! A ****IN' BULLET RIPS OFF PART OF YOUR HEAD! YOUR BRAINS ARE LAYIN' ON THE GROUND IN LITTLE BLOODY PIECES. Now, I ax ya. Would you give a **** what kind of pants the son of a bitch who shot you was wearing?
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