-Mom. -Hello. -I don't eat bacon, remember?
I'm sorry. I must've forgotten.
What's new in the world, Dad?
This country is going straight to hell.
-Are you expecting anyone? -No.
-Hi. -Welcome to the neighborhood. -It's just a little something from our garden. -Except for the pasta. We got that at Fallaci's.
It's unbelievably fresh. You just... You drop it in the water, and it's done.
-Jim Olmeyer. Two doors down. Welcome to the neighborhood. -Colonel Frank Fitts, U.S. Marine Corps.
-It's nice to meet you. This is my partner... -Jim Berkley, but call me J.B.
Let's cut to chase, okay? What are you guys selling?
-Nothing. We just wanted to say hi to our new neighbors. -Yeah, yeah, yeah.
You said you're partners, so what's your business?
-Well... he is a tax attorney. -And he's an anesthesiologist.
How come these faggots always have to rub it in your face?
How can they be so shameless?
That's the whole thing, Dad. They don't feel that's anything to be ashamed of.
-Well, it is. -Yeah, you're right.
Don't placate me like I'm your mother, boy.
Forgive me, sir, for speaking so bluntly,
but those fags make me want to puke my fucking guts out.
Well, me too, son. Yeah. Me too.