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Pölsa:
Pölsa has no fear, because he got a lot of beer.
Erik:
Who killed Sussie?
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f5b
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Pölsa:
It wasn't me! Um, and nobody else either.
Billy Davidsson:
I guess you could say... Wait, didn't you have red hair before?
[pause]
Billy Davidsson:
Well, I guess you could say... Hey, could you remove that dead fly there, it looks really disgusting. Thanks.
Sandra:
[removed a dead fly from the window]
Billy Davidsson:
I guess you could say that... These things... happen. Things disappear. People disappear.
Erik:
Pölsa, there are four junkies getting stoned in your couch!
Pölsa:
Only four? Damn it, should be full of folks today!
Biografmaskinisten:
As you can see, the movie ended here. They forgot to send the last reel. Yeah I know, it sucks. But I'll try to fix this.
[Dials a phone number on the cell phone]
Biografmaskinisten:
Hi, it's me. I'm fine. How are you? Hey, you've seen Pulp Fiction, right? How does it end? Uh-huh. Sounds complex. What about the negro? OK, bye.
[Turns to audience]
Biografmaskinisten:
I'm sorry to tell you this, but John Travolta dies. Bruce Willis shoots him as he comes out of the bathroom. But things worked out for the negro, anyway.
Gerd:
How much do you know?
Erik:
About what?
Pölsa:
That we were the ones who shot Sussie, for example! Did you know that?
Gerd:
Are you completely brainwashed?
Billy Davidsson:
We do occasionally get some tips. Do you know anyone by the name of Keyser Soze? Tony Montana?
Sandra:
No.
Billy Davidsson:
You don't. OK. They're not registered anywhere.
Erik:
Pölsa, det sitter fyra knarkare i din soffa
Pölsa:
Fyra bara? Den ska ju va fullsatt.
Pölsa:
Twenty-seven and bald. I look like an old gym teacher.
[taking out a roll of tin foil]
Pölsa:
Brown sugar. Heroin. It's like medicine for people who are sad. Or bald.
Erik:
I thought I'd fuck myself to death, but it worked out.
Erik:
[Pölsa is doing heroin] Cut it out, you could die.
Pölsa:
So could you.
In a letter:
Stop writing me. We will never go bananas together. Signed, the Chimp
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