David Spade: Steve Dodds

Black Sheep

Steve Dodds

[Mike is pretending to be a cop, Steve is pretending to be a prisoner]
Steve: Ro-ads. Ro-ods.
Mike: Quiet back there! I've taken enough guff from you for one day!
[turns to state trooper]
Mike: Raving psycho! Butchered 400 chickens and screwed a beagle. I'm taking him back to Nevada where he's wanted for banging horses!

Mike: Man! This place is trashed!
Steve: Check this out! This whole fridge is held up here just by this plug!
[unplugs the fridge, letting it slide toward Mike, pinning him against the wall]
Steve: You OK?
Mike: [groaning in pain] I'm just dandy! I got a bowl of chocolate pudding in my underpants!
Steve: ... We didn't have any pudding in there, buddy.

Steve: This is great! I've never won three games in a row. I hardly ever play checkers.
Mike: [muttering] Yeah. Yeah. Well. You know. It's kinda easy to win when you... um...
[shouting]
Mike: NEVER MOVE YOUR BACK ROW! EVER! GOD! COME ONNNN!

[Steve comes back sprayed with a fire extinguisher]
Mike: Whoa, what happened to you? Did you fall into some mud or something?
Steve: Yeah, I did. And now I'm gonna be famous because I'm the only one in the world who knows where you can find *white* mud.

[the roof has blown off the house and it begins to hail all over Mike who is in the top bunk]
Steve: Hey Mike! 'I got dibs on top bunk!' Ha ha ha ha.
Mike: Shut up!
Steve: Ha ha ha ha ha. Oh, I love it.
Mike: Why don't you shut up?
Steve: 'Hellooooo Washington'. Ha ha ha.
Mike: SHUT! UP!
Steve: Hahahahahahahaaaa. Ohhh, no.
[Mike's bed, with the added weight of the hail, collapses from above]
Mike: Oh!
Steve: Aaaooow!

Steve: [Steve is going to flip off the old lady, and starts out by acting like he's digging around in his pocket looking for it] Lady, I got something for ya. Kind of a souvenir for you here.
Old lady: [impatiently] Yes?
Steve: [falters, then changes his mind] Never mind; forget it.
Old lady: [Looks at his hand] What'cha doing? Playing Pocket Pool there, son?
Steve: [tries to push past her] Excuse me.
Old lady: Hey, ya got a lil chubby goin' on there!
[stalks off]
Old lady: Dream on, you little fart.
[Steve mouths "Yeah" and covers his face in embarrassment]

Steve: [on Drake Sabitch] This guy is like Leatherface, Chucky and Jan Brady all rolled into one.

Steve: [completely wasted on the nitrous oxide] ... But, this map is heavy... It's got all of those... robes on it. Robes? Rogues?
Mike: [also stoned; giggling] Roads!
Steve, Mike: Aahahahaha!
Mike: [suddenly stops laughing] I'm stoned... so are you!
[looks in the backseat]
Mike: Dammit! The nitrous oxide's leaking into the car! OK, calm down... we just gotta keep under the speed limit... limit...
[starts giggling again]
Mike: Limit! Haha, that's another one of those freaky words!

[last lines]
Al Donnelly: [as Mike sees his brother and Steve off in their plane] So long, little brother.
Mike Donnelly: Okay, see you, Al. So this is it, huh, Steve?
Steve Dodds: I guess I'm gonna miss you. I'm not gonna miss a 9mm to my head, but... What were you thinking?
Mike Donnelly: I don't know. All right, you guys. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
[as they board, Mike closes the door and waves goodbye, but his coat is caught in the door, and the planes starts to drag him]
Mike Donnelly: Oh, my God! No! No! Please don't take off! Please! Al! Al! No, no! NOOOOOOOOOOO! AAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL!
[the planes takes off, and Mike flies along for the ride]