Mort: I don't care. I'm just gonna smoke. I'm just gonna totally smoke. I'll finish these, go to the store and get a brand-new pack, smoke the shit out of that one.
Mort: I buried my dog, mister.
John Shooter: You strike me as the kind of guy who's on the lookout for a head he can knock off with a shovel.
Mort: I'm a dairy farmer from Mississippi.
John Shooter: Thought you didn't smoke.
Mort: I took it up recently, for my health.
Mrs. Garvey: You're a good man, Mr. Rainey.
Mort: You too, Mrs. Garvey.
Ken Karsch: What happened? You finally bang one of your groupies? Omaha Barnes and Noble? I'm sorry. Rotten profession.
Mort: What do you think it means, you ignorant hick? I'm in the middle of a divorce. D-I-V-O-R-C-E DEEE-VORCE.
Mort: Gee, Ted, I'm sorry you had to miss that. I know how much you like my things.
Mort: You know, the only thing that matters is the ending. It's the most important part of the story, the ending. And this one... is very good. This one's perfect.
Ted: Maybe I should take a walk around the block.
Amy: Yes, that'd be good.
Mort: Aw heck, Ted, live a little - make it two. Rubbernecker.
Ted: You and I are going to have a little talk.
Mort: Oh, I'm in trouble.
Mort: I'd be lying if I said I wasn't on the verge of doing snoopy dances.
Mort: What do you want? You wanna kill me? Why don't you just do it? Just kill me.
John Shooter: No, sir.
Mort: Shit, shit, shit, shit. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Amy: Will you call me if you need anything?
Mort: I doubt it.
Mort: I have the magazine, you lunatic. I have the magazine. I have THE goddamn magazine.
Answer: 1993 Jeep Cherokee Country.