I've whipped up this nasty little soirée over at his friend Wyatt's house. –Soir-what? –Soirée, honey. I think that means, um, 'party.' –Party. You know, there's going to be sex, drugs, rock-n-roll... chips, dips, chains, whips... you know, your basic high school orgy-type of thing. I mean, uh, I'm not talking candle wax on the nipples or witchcraft or anything like that. No, no, no. No, just a couple of hundred kids running around in their underwear acting like complete animals.
Without me, you're nothing! Without that outfit, you're just another no-talent dental hygiene school drop-out from Kew Gardens getting by... on her tits. –And in the end, Eddie, you know what? You're nothing but a misguided midget asshole with dreams of ruling the world. Yeah, also from Kew Gardens. And also getting by on my tits.