I don't want a fuss, and I don't want to put a bullet in your face, but if you don't give me exactly what I want, there will be **** murders.
Shoot him.
[Vinny attempts to pistol-whip Tony; Tony catches his hand and grips it tightly as Sol draws another gun]
Let... go... of... the... gun!
[Tony releases Vinny]
So, you're obviously the big dick. And the men on either side of you are your balls. There are two types of balls. There are big, brave balls, and there are little mincey **** balls.
These are your last words, so make them a prayer.
Now, dicks have drive and clarity of vision, but they're not clever. They smell pussy, and they want a piece of the action. And you thought you smelled some good old pussy, and have brought your two small mincey **** balls along for a good old time. But you've got your parties muddled up. There's no pussy here, just a dose that'll make you wish you were born a woman. Like a prick, you're having second thoughts. You're shrinking, and your two little balls are shrinking with you. And the fact that you've got "Replica" written down the side of your guns, and the fact that I've got "Desert Eagle point five O" written on the side of mine, should precipitate your balls into shrinking, along with your presence. Now... **** off.
[Sips his drink]
