Number Two: Why not use your knowledge of the future to play the stock markets? We could make trillions. Dr. Evil: Why make a trillion when we could make... billions? Scott: A trillion's more than a billion, numbnuts.
[Austin and Vanessa see a man decapitated] Austin Powers: Not the time to lose one's head. Vanessa Kensington: No. Austin Powers: That's not the way to get ahead in life. Vanessa Kensington: No. Austin Powers: It's a shame he wasn't more headstrong. Vanessa Kensington: Hmm. Austin Powers: He'll never be the head of a major corporation. Vanessa Kensington: Okay, that'll do. Austin Powers: Okay.
Dr. Evil: Scott, I want you to meet daddy's nemesis, Austin Powers Scott Evil: What? Are you feeding him? Why don't you just kill him? Dr. Evil: I have an even better idea. I'm going to place him in an easily escapable situation involving an overly elaborate and exotic death.
The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.
Austin: [referring to Felicity sleeping with Fat Bastard] Well how could you do it? Felicity Shagwell: I was just doing my job. Austin: No, I mean, literally, HOW could you do it? The man's so fat, the sheer mechanics of it are mind-boggling.
Cool! You mean that I actually have frickin' sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their frickin' heads?
Yes, I agree, preparation H does feel good. On the Hole!
I'd love some chocolate ass cream.... you ass
Scotty Don't
don't no what else to say
