Not to mention...
Gin: Look here, get him outta here and I'll go smooth things over with Chipeska, Tell him it was food poisoning or something.
Marcus: What do you mean, get him outta here?
Gin: Take him to the car.
Marcus: In case you didn't notice I'm a motherfucking dwarf, so unless you got a forklift handy, maybe you should lend a hand hmm?
Gin: That figures. You want all kind of set-asides. Special treatment 'cause you're handicapped. You're all the same.
Marcus: Special treatment? I'm 3-foot-****-tall you asshole! It's a matter of physics. Draw me a sketch of how I get him to the car, huh?
Gin: Bitch, Bitch, Bitch!
Marcus: Sketch it up, you **** moron. **** Leonardo da Vinci.
Gin: What'd you call me thigh-high?
Marcus: I called you a **** guinea homo from the 15th-****-century, you dickhead!
Gin: I could stick you up my ass, small fry.
Marcus: Yeah? You sure it ain't too sore from last night?
Gin: You got some lip on you midget.
Marcus: yeah? Well these lips were on your wife's pussy last night. Why don't you dust that thing off once in a while? Asshole!