& Woody: Mini Ginger Beers.
Rick: Is that a good idea?
Woody: I’m on a CIA hit list, Rick. I’ll take me chances.
& Rick: You can justify it any way you like, alright? But the fact is... we are sitting on a porch in the middle of nowhere... with a strong possibility of being shot! At any moment. Or failing that, eaten! By hyenas.
& Baxter: How can you have a life, if you can’t be honest with the people that are closest to you?
& Rick: For crying out loud, can we just try and act our ages! This is very simple, alright? Either we accept that this whole thing is, I dunno... the... cosmos screwing with us all the way from Alvo’s villa to the African veldt or... Ok, we have to face up to the fact that ostensibly... this was all
your fault.
& Quinn: It’s great that you’re doing it, obviously but um... well, why are you doing it?
Lazaro: Does it have to be something in it for me? Maybe I’m just having an “Eat, Pray, Love” moment.
Woody: Nobody does anything for nothing.
Lazaro: Ok, well, if it makes you feel better... then yes, there is something you can do for me... You can do my laundry.
You freedom for my washing.
& Lazaro: Satellite phone. I was just on but I lost it. Soon as we reconnect, we’ll hop to. They don’t realize how much they have us by the balls, do they?
Quinn:
They are the American goverment.
Lazaro:
Internet service providers.
& Baxter: We just got caught up in somebody else’s war, really.
Lazaro: Back in the day we referred to it as “unintended consequences” and then it became “negligent discharge”... but everyone thought that sounded too much like a STD, so finally they settled on “collateral damage”.
& Lazaro: See, all human combat is basically symbolic. Until this last century, the idea of slaughtering each other is actually a pretty recent phenomenom.
Baxter: Is this supposed to make us feel better or something?
& Lazaro: Oh, heh.
Quinn: Is something wrong?
Lazaro: No, the codename they gave your OP.
WIMPHAMMER.
Rick: What’s that supposed to mean?
Quinn: It’s a measure of the esteem they held us in, Rick.
& Lazaro: Mr Woods, I am now deleting your... Oh, shit. Lost the connection.
& Lazaro: And finally... one... two. You are clean. You can be home by the weekend. ... Washing powder is under the sink.
& Lazaro: I got a present for you... African peyote.
Ω Oh, no. No, no, no, no.
& Baxter: Are you talking about tripping?
Lazaro: Last night of your incredible journey, you gotta trip out, man. How many times are you gonna be on the veldt under a clear sky, silver slipper of a moon, surrounded by people that love you?
& Rick: Right, how do you take it?
Lazaro: You scoop out the flesh, and chew it. Takes a few minutes. Then you start behaving like the village drunkard in an early Irish novel.
& Rick: Where are you going, Woods?
Ω Guys, guys, guys...
& Lazaro: How was it?
Woody: Amazing, yeah.
Baxter: It was, uh, it was kind of incredible.
Quinn: It’s weird, though.
Rick: It’s mixed, if I’m honest.
& Lazaro: How are you feeling?
Baxter: Good.
Lazaro: Relaxed?
Quinn: Oh, yeah.
Lazaro: Content?
Woody: Pretty much.
Lazaro: Euphoric?
Baxter: Yeah, yeah.
Lazaro: Great, because now... I have to kill you.
& Lazaro: Big sorries. But it’s check-out time.
& Baxter: Maybe we should try and negotiate with him.
Quinn: He’s a trained assassin. He’ll play mind games on us, you nut!
Rick: He’s right. He’ll be schooled in the art of not giving up. He’ll go all Terminator on us.
& Rick: Hammer?
Baxter: No! Something heavy but not... heavy.
Rick: I’m not trying to be funny but, how about a frying pan?
& Baxter: Where the fuck did you come from?
Mercedes: When I thought about it, properly... I didn’t really trust you not to fuck it up.
& Mercedes: Well, the good news is that you’re free. Bad news is that you’re dead again.
Woody: But we... we are free?
& Mercedes: I’ve got plans, man. I gotta go up to Mozambique.
Baxter: Have you ever thought of doing anything a little bit less killing-y?
Mercedes: What? And go stand somewhere in Covent Garden and say “No jeans or trainers”? No, thanks!
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On the IMDb