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Picspam and Quote-spam Part 3 ♥
Part 1 can be found here and Part 2 can be found here
A Burning Dog
Brad: Ray what the fuck is that smell?
Ray: MRE cookies. What I did was I saved up all those creamer packets and all the sugars and I mixed in peanut butter until I sort of made--
Brad: Just don’t set your face on fire again.
Ray: Word to the motherfucking street yo! I was not the one who set my face on fire. I was the fuckin’ victim and you know it.
Ray: My fucking cookies got schwacked. What the fuck is his problem?
Brad: Come on, Ray. We’re Oscar Mike.
Captain America: Is he threatening me?!
Nate: Let me guess. He’s grateful to be liberated and pleased to cooperate.
Captain America: These people are worse than the goddamn VC!
Nate: Dave, We’ve got Meesh.
Brad: If my mother ever distributed my likeness without written authorization, I would disown her.
Ray: Technically speaking Brad, Didn’t your biological parents disown you when they put you up for adoption?
Brad: Point Ray. I was one of those unfortunates adopted by upper middle class professionals and nurtured in an environment of learning, art, and a socio-religious culture steeped in over two thousand years of Talmudic tradition. Not everyone is lucky enough to have been raised in a whiskey tango trailer park by a bowlegged female whose sole qualification for motherhood is a womb that happened to catch a sperm of a passing truck driver.
Ray: At least my mom took me to NASCAR!
Trombley: Your dad’s a truck driver?
Pappy: Imagine what the psychiatrist would think of Ray Person.
Brad: Need I remind you that he is the best damn RTO in the business? As long as you keep him away from your uglier daughters and your smaller livestock.
Rudy: Hold what you got warriors. November Juliet’s coming around.
Chaffin: Better watch your face ray. Rudy’s got the espresso pot brewing.
Pappy: Pappy. I always gotta fix you up, Pap. Looks like you’ve got some chafing here from your SAPI plate. I’ve got some emollients in the Humvee. I’ll get the Neutrogena. Am I pushing you, my man? Am I going too far? Pappy, you know I love you, brother.
Nate: I do however have an issue with unprofessional conduct of senior enlisted personnel in this company.
Griego: Nate, I-
Nate: Gunnery Sgt, you do not fucking come up on a discussion between the captain and myself and speak unless you are spoken to. And nobody fucking spoke to you.
Griego: Aye aye, LT.
Ray: Hey Hey Hey. You guys, I just did a really dirty thing. You know that picture of Rolling Stone’s girlfriend?
Brad: I think it’s safe to say we all know her intimately at this point.
Ray: Well, I got it back from Bravo 3 and I swear I was gonna give it back to him. But I ran into Wasik on the way over here. I traded that bitch for some PEC-2 batteries!
Brad: Ray, you pimped her out.
Ray: She is a dirty little hoochie, isn’t she?
Brad: Got any for the thermals?
Ray: God damnit Baptista. How would he like it if I joined the Brazilian Marines and only spoke English?
Stafford: Go on man, fuck it up.
Poke: What the fuck is wrong with you dog? What is it with you white boys? Leave you alone for 10 minutes, you go all “Lord of the Flies” and shit.
Poke: Hey, LT’s boys’ are eating some weird as shit over there. It’s like Jeffrey Dahmer’s picnic. Makes you appreciate shit.
Brad: Sir, we can still kill the cars that don’t stop. This just gives civilians a chance. I’m asking, sir. You do have power over this.
Nate: Alright.
Stay Frosty
Captain America: Jesus, Eric, I thought that man was killing you! I fucked his shit up good didn’t I?
Carrisalez: Damn, sir. Your hamster must have fell off its wheel.
Nate: Gunny, did the men get those new MREs?
Gunny: They did. They’re happy. These are the new ones with milkshakes. There’s strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla.
Nate: Yummy.
Gunny: Didn’t you get Hasser’s report on shooting that civilian? We’ve got to take care of this ass-covering bullshit. It’ll be good for Hasser too.
(Ray in the background: Oh my god, this milkshake is great!... and good for you.)
Gunny: He does his duty he gets back to being a Marine.
Nate: Thanks Mike, you’re a fucking nag.
Ray: Hey, Walt. Feel the love. Walt-baby-
Walt: Just leave me the fuck alone.
Ray: Finally, he speaks.
Brad: I liked it better when we were starving. Then I didn’t have to see shit all over your face.
Ray: Want some?
Nate: Walt, finish your report and get it to me ASAP. But we’re gonna see if there’s a better way to stop these cars.
Ray: Walt’s got a great way, LT. Shoot the driver, stop the car.
Ray: Hey Walt, I was just fucking with you.
Poke: Hey fuck it Walt, these Haji motherfuckers are trying to kill us. I’m for lighting up every motherfucker that comes within 100 meters.
Trombley: Damn man, didn’t we kick their asses already?
Ray: This is really interesting Brad. You know, Iraqis don’t really seem good at fighting. But then they never really completely surrender either.
Brad: Put down that fucking milkshake and dig a fucking hole.
Ray: Why, so I can be more like the teacher’s pet?
Brad: Yeah, that’s exactly it. You should be more like Trombley.
Ray: More like Trombley? MORE LIKE TROMBLEY?!
Everyone: ohhhhh Whopper, Jr! Whopper, Jr!
Manimal: FUCK!
Stafford: Yo, Manimal just dropped a case of grenades.
Chaffin: See? That’s why we can’t have nice things.
Manimal: Fuck you too. Don’t we have a secretary or someone that can clean this shit up?
Kocher: LT I was about to-
Nate: yeah, but no. not the right time.
Reporter: Trombley, why were they calling you Whopper, Jr?
Trombley: They were calling me that?
Reporter: Ray, why were they calling him that?
Ray: *shrugs*
Nate: Interrogative, do they have weapons? Hostile intent?
Ray: they got naked intent.
Ray: Hey be careful of the one on the right! He’s got a horse-cock like Manimal’s. You don’t want to get that thing angry!
Nate: Good work Rudy.
Rudy: Team two at your service, sir.
Manimal: Team leader of the year, Rudy Reyes.
Garza: Found a Haji helmet. Fits good. How do I look?
Poke: Like a Target.
Nate: Brad how is your teams combat effectiveness?
Brad: Well, we got Person’s allergies, but none of my team has got the shits.
Doc: Reyes, how many guys are sick on your team?
Rudy: I have three men down warrior healer.
Griego: They are covering your ass, Nate.
Nate: What the fuck is going on here.
Griego: How would it look if that tank was operational?
Nate: Well I will tell you what it looks like right now. It resembles an incompetent moron climbing up the asshole of his commander by inventing a bullshit mission. Did you seek my authority before tasking my platoon with this?
Griego: I did. I woke you 40 mikes ago to affirm the order.
Nate: You woke me? I hadn’t been to sleep in 36 hours. I have no recollection whatsoever of you waking-I thought I was dreaming. Get the fuck out of here. And do not ever again mess with my platoon.
Griego: I was just trying to cover you. You know you’re suspect with battalion.
Nate: Fuck that. You can fuck with me all you want but do not, I repeat, do not fuck with my men. I’m putting it down, Gunny. You picking it up?
Manimal: Hey Stiney, that’s my front yard you just puked on there.
Ray: hey kid, nice jacket.
Stafford: Yo, break out some MREs. Like my nigga Tupac said: “these hard times man.”
Christeson: Yeah
Staffod: Make me wanna holler.
Christeson: Word.
Lovell: We just turned this combat team into a hay ride.
Poke: Well at least we gave him a fucking happy meal before he died.
Brad: Putting us in these? Is an affront to my warrior spirit. I’m a hunter, not a fucking truck driver corralling gun platforms.
Nate: Brad, We were the fucking first boots on the ground in the American invasion of Mesopotamia. And you got your men out alive. Might be sad about not getting your mission but for me I got to tell you I am glad this is over. One other thing, no more cat holes. This fucking POG camp we’re in has a legit slit-trench latrine. Really.
Brad: That’s my recon mission then.
2-3: Manimal, you are no longer allowed to touch the handset again. Over.
Brad: Poke you’re thinking like a Mexican again.
Sixta: Yous a squealin like a bunch of but fucked Vassar bitches! Unfuck yourselves or we gonna suffer the spectacle of a WM with a bunch of horny devil dogs trailin’ her stern. Get yourselves squared up here. CPL, you’re inappropriatin’ your chemical filtration device by attemptin’ fornication wi’ it.
Ray: Fucking Sixta. No sooner do we stop getting shot at, the mother fucker is out here lifing us in his illiterate fucking retardese.
Stafford: People think they have the authority to kill the minority, man. Fuck the po-lice.
Redman: all stations be advised. Sgt Colbert is wings level. Can somebody clear him hot?
Ray: What, did you give him some “Rolling Stone” drugs or something?
Reporter: No.
Ray: What the fuck did you do to him?
Reporter: Just asked him what he would be if he wasn’t a Marine.
Ray: Oh my god he wants to be a ballerina? That’s my fucking dream!
Brad: There’s something I’ve been keeping from you. I wasn’t sure we were gonna live to share this moment.
Ray: Chef Boyardee-the master!
Brad: To celebrate. Trombley get a fire going.
Ray: You deceiving, conniving, Hebrew motherfucker. How were you gonna keep this from your dearest pal Ray-Ray?
Brad: I got one more secret to share.
Ray: JUGGS!
Brad: No no no no! Wait wait not yet! I need some-I need some time with this alone.
Ray: Come on just give me one.
Brad: Just calm down. You’ll get your sloppy seconds with Jasmine. Ray, you gotta share her with Trombley.
Ray: What? He’ll kill her!
Trombley: Eat, fuck, kill. All the same right?
Ray: Yeah! All the same if you’re a fucking psycho! Brad I’m telling you, I fear for Jasmine.
Reporter: Speaking of which. One of you guys still has my girlfriends picture.
Ray: Dude, I hate to tell you this but you’re girlfriend’s kind of a whore.
Reporter: What?
Ray: Yeah, last time I saw her, she was doing all of H&S company.
Brad: She doesn’t deserve you, man.
Brad: Beefaroni? What’s your problem?
Poke: Last time the white man gave my people something, it was blankets laced with thyphoid.
Brad: Poke, can’t we all just get along?
Ray: Damn Brad, what else you got hidden in the Humvee? A fat chick?
Poke: Shoot some civilians, you get a reputation.
Ray: Walt. Walt, he didn’t mean that.
Ray: Walt.
Walt: You’re a fucking messed up hick. You can’t even eat ravioli.
Ray: I’m eating ravioli.
Ray: Well, guys. It’s been groovy.
Brunmeier: Hey my balls smell like Jack’s mouth.
Chaffin: How do you know what his mouth smells like?
Brunmeier: ‘Cause my balls were in it.
Ray: I knew you were a fucking gay ass liberal. You tried to pretend by invading Iraq with us, but I knew!
Brad: Once more into the great good night. Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.
Ray: Man, when I get home, I am going to eat the fuck out of my girlfriend’s pussy.
Reporter: Isn’t that Shakespeare?
Trombley: Shakespeare wrote that? About his girlfriend’s pussy?
Captain America: Enemy! Enemy on both sides. Break.
Ray: Oh my god, is he crying?
Brad: No he’s not. He’s just nervous.
Captain America: We’re gonna die if they don’t get us out. They sent us to die!
Brad: Ok, fuck it. He’s crying.
Garza: They fucking love shooting Mexicans.
Brad: That’s Alpha Gabe. Alpha. Mistakes happen.
Trombley: Everyone likes to shoot Mexicans, even Mexicans.
Ray: Whoa, Brad. Check out the retard cas-evacing lamb chops. Oh man, that’s intense when you think about it. Here’s this farmer who’s our there-
Brad: Ray, shut the fuck up.
Brad: God damnit ray. No country music. Okay?
Ray: Dude. It’s not a country song. It’s a cowboy song.
Brad: I hate to break it to you Ray, but there are no cowboys.
Credits:
All caps by secondstar
All caps colored by killmotion
Transcribed by secondstar help with quotes by cinandtonic
moral support by solookup
quote help by firecracked