Wilfred 1x5

Respect

“Seek respect mainly from thyself, for it comes first from within.”
Steven H. Coogler

& Jenna: I’m glad you’re able to come out to lunch with me.
    Ryan: Well, Mondays are usually pretty light.
    Jenna: Um, it’s Thursday.
    Ryan: Right. I’m just saying that Mondays work, too, lunch-wise.

& Ryan: You know cheese isn’t good for you.
    Wilfred: I’m sick of you telling me what I can and can’t do. It’s like those baby killers say, “My body, my choice.”

& Ryan: I’m sorry, but apparently, looking after you is my sole reason for getting out of bed. What am I doing with my life? Nothing.
    Wilfred: Don’t undersell yourself. How many people can watch a whole season of The Wire in one sitting? Not many, I’d wager. That shit is dense*.

& Ryan: The way Jenna jumped in to cover for me... like I’m some kind of loser. Is that what people think of me?
    Wilfred: What are you, a golden retriever?

& — Would you sign a petition to support the South Venice Hospice?.. Just sign right here, but don’t worry about the address part. You can just leave that blank.
    Ryan: Why would I do that?
    — Well... you could list a shelter or something.
    Ryan: Shelter? You think I’m homeless?! Do I look homeless?
    Wilfred: Well, you were talking to a dog.

& Ryan: Come on. It’ll feel good to do something worthwhile. Besides, these people have a lifetime of wisdom to share with us.
    Wilfred: Like what, how to keep from sitting on your balls?

& Ryan: Wilfred, we’re doing this.
    Wilfred: You can’t make me do whatever you want. You’re not my husband!

& Ryan: You can’t do that!
    Wilfred: Can’t eat cheese, can’t jack morphine. Is there anything I can do, Ryan?

& Jenna: Come here, Wilfred. Come here. I’m gonna make you a special dinner. Hey, if you’re not doing anything, do you want to join us? I’m just going to toss a salad.
    Ryan: Sounds great. Okay.
    Wilfred: Think you might be disappointed, mate. Sometimes the term “tossed salad” means a bowl of lettuce.

---

& Wilfred: Don’t deny yourself, Ryan. Enjoy it. Enjoy me.

& Mr. Helms: Checkmate!
    Ryan: I’m reading you a book, Mr. Helms.
    Mr. Helms: Did I ever tell you about the time I choked a Jap?

& Ryan: We can’t go through with this.
    Wilfred: Relax, Ryan. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be a well-regarded douchebag?

& Ryan: Oh, my God, you did it! You really did it!
    Wilfred: Whatever I did, I did for the both of us.
    Ryan: No! I never wanted this!
    Wilfred: Tell me something, Ryan. When those pathetic bags of bones down there fall to their knees and pray for death, who do you think they’re praying to? Me! That’s who.
    Ryan: You’ve lost your mind. It’s like you’ve got some kind of God complex!
    Wilfred: I’ll let you in on a little secret, Ryan... I haven’t got a God complex. I am God! Thunder!

& Ryan: I have something to say!
    Wilfred: You’re making a big mistake, Ryan.
    Ryan: I don’t care. I can’t let this go on any longer.
    Lisa: Hey, look, Ruby left a suicide note.
    Ryan: She did? Are you sure it’s in human handwriting? ... I swear that’s not a racial thing!

& Wilfred: That is so typical of Western thinking: If you can’t see it for yourself, it doesn’t exist. I’ve actually got many, many magical powers that would blow your mind...
    Ryan: Like what?
    Wilfred: Off the top of my head, I can make you disappear.
    Ryan: Prove it. Make me disappear.
    Wilfred: Okay. Look deeply into my eyes. Now you... you’ve really got to concentrate here, okay? So, we’re breathing deeply in through the nose and out through the mouth. Focus. Now one big one...
    Ryan: Oh! Oh, God!
    Wilfred: And just like that, he’s gone.

-- Dict:
dense — темный; дремучий; непроницаемый

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