Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You're in no position disagree with me, boy. I got a loaded .45 here. You got pimples.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Out of order, I show you out of order. You don't know what out of order is, Mr. Trask. I'd show you, but I'm too old, I'm too tired, I'm too fuckin' blind. If I were the man I was five years ago, I'd take a FLAMETHROWER to this place! Out of order? Who the hell do you think you're talkin' to? I've been around, you know? There was a time I could see. And I have seen. Boys like these, younger than these, their arms torn out, their legs ripped off. But there isn't nothin' like the sight of an amputated spirit. There is no prosthetic for that. You think you're merely sending this splendid foot soldier back home to Oregon with his tail between his legs, but I say you are... executin' his soul! And why? Because he's not a Bairdman. Bairdmen. You hurt this boy, you're gonna be Baird bums, the lot of ya. And Harry, Jimmy, Trent, wherever you are out there, FUCK YOU TOO!
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: (at Charlie's disciplinary hearing) This is such a croc of shit!
Mr. Trask: Mr. Slade, you are in the Baird School. Not a barracks.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Oh, where do I go from here, Charlie?
Charlie Simms: If you're tangled up, just tango on.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You askin' me to dance, Charlie?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Tickets. Money. Speech. Old Washington joke... from my days with Lyndon.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Your father peddles car telephones at a 300 percent markup. Your mother works on heavy commission at a camera store. Graduated to it from espresso machines. Hah!
Randy: (Frank and Charlie have arrived unexpected at Frank's brother's house for Thanksgiving. Randy opens the door and the smile on his face disappears) Yes?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Yes! Who is this?
Randy: It's Randy.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Randy? You new?
Randy: I'm your nephew.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Hah! Here I am. Your sister's been hoarding me long enough. Tught it's time to spread the riches around.
Gail: (Comes around the door) Uncle Frank.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Gloria.
Gail: (upset at having to correct him) Gail.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Of course.
(enters into the house)
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Say "hello" to the potluck party from New York City. Good ol' Uncle Frank and this here with him is Charlie Simms, star halfback of the Baird School football team. They not only beat Exeter and Grotin this year, but Aquinas High School too.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Well, gentlemen, when the shit hits the fan, some guys run and some guys stay.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Haven't you heard? Conscience is dead.
Charlie Simms: No, I haven't heard.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Well, then, take the fuckin' wax outta your ears! Grow up! It's fuck your buddy, cheat on your wife, call your mother on Mother's Day! Charlie, it's all shit.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Uh-oh, we got a moron here.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I don't know if Charlie's silence here today is right or wrong; I'm not a judge or jury. But I can tell you this: he won't sell anybody out to buy his future!
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Don't shrug, imbecile. I'm blind. Save your body language for the bimbi.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I asked you a question. Do you want me to adopt ya or don't ya?
Charlie Simms: Please? I mean, you're just in a slump right now.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Slump? No slump Charlie. I'm bad. I'm not bad no. I'm rotten.
Charlie Simms: You're not bad. You're just in pain.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: What do you know about pain? hmm? You little snail darter from the pacific northwest. What the fuck you know about pain?
Charlie Simms: Let me have the gun Colonel.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: (Frank cocks the .45) No time to grow a dick son.
Charlie Simms: Just give me the gun all right Colonel?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: (Charlie begins to move towards Frank) I'm talking a parade ground. Ten-hut!
(Charlie stops moving then begins again)
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Soldier. That was a direct order.
Charlie Simms: Give me the gun?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You can stay or you can leave. You understand? Either way I'm gonna do this thing. Now why don't you leave and spare yourself?
Charlie Simms: I want your gun Colonel.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I'm gonna give myself a count. You need a count for balance. Five, four, three, two, one. Fuck it.
(He raises the gun to his head and Charlie lunges for it. They struggle with it across the room)
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Gimmie it. Fuck it!
(He gets the gun away from Charlie and points it at him)
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Get outta here!
Charlie Simms: I'm staying right here!
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Get outta here!
Charlie Simms: I'm staying right here
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I'll blow your fuckin' head off.
Charlie Simms: Then do it. You wanna do it? Do it. Let's go
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: (Frank pulls the hammer on the gun back) Fuck! Get outta here!
Charlie Simms: So you fucked up all right? So what? So everybody does it. Get on with your life would ya?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: (screaming) What life? I got no life! I'm in the dark here. You understand? I'm in the dark!
Charlie Simms: So give up. You wanna give up? Give up 'cause I'm giving giving up too. You said I'm through you're right I *am* through. It's all over. So let's get on with it. Let's fuckin' do it! Fuckin' pull the trigger you miserable blind motherfucker. Pull the trigger.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Here we go Charlie.
Charlie Simms: I'm ready.
(Headmaster Trask drives into the Baird School driveway in his brand-new Jaguar. He gets out, to hear a voice on a loudspeaker)
Jimmy Jameson: (on loudspeaker, but unidentified) Mister Trask is our fearless leader.
(students hear this and gather, looking on at Trask)
Jimmy Jameson: A man of learning, a voracious reader. He can recite "The Iliad" in ancient Greek, while fishing for trout in a rippling creek.
Trent Potter: (Trask grins slightly, trying to figure out where the voice is coming from) Endowed with wisdom, of judgement sound, nevertheless about him, the questions abound.
(We now see the same three Baird guys who set up this prank the night before; Harry opens the valve to an oxygen tank connected to a large balloon on a lamppost as Trent passes the microphone to him)
Harry Havemeyer: How does Mister Trask make such wonderful deals? Why did the trustees buy him Jaguar wheels? He wasn't conniving, he wasn't crass... he merely puckered his lips... and kissed their ass!
(balloon spins around to reveal a cartoon bearing the words being spoken; the students laugh and mock Trask)
Harry Havemeyer: (Trask pulls out his car keys and opens the Jaguar door, then jumps up to try to pop the balloon with the key. He misses on the first try. On the second try, he succeeds, and a flood of white paint splashes down onto him and all over the car. The students applaud loudly and shout obscenities at him as this catastrophe concludes with Trask kicking the car door closed and attempting to dry his face with handkerchief)
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Where's the booze? Flowin' like mud around here.