Tremors: A Cold Day in Hell Quotes

Burt Gummer: Go slap a lien somewhere else.

Agent Dalkwed: Already have. Hey. I see you've changed teams.

Burt Gummer: Hmm? No, just hats!

Agent Dalkwed: Well, it was a miracle the Cubbies won that series. And frankly, Gummer, that's what you're gonna need: a miracle! 'Cause right now, your ass is in my hands!

Burt Gummer: Your point, Dickweed?

Agent Dalkwed: Your tax position has been deemed frivolous by the IRS, and your property has hereby been seized!

Travis B. Welker: Oh come on Burt. Don't be hurt! All right, now that I'm back, let's hit that reset button, huh? Put some fresh content up on YouTube, try and resurrect that Bull's-Eye Brand.

Burt Gummer: [shouts at Travis] Not doing prepper videos anymore! My director quit on me.

Travis B. Welker: No, he didn't. He's right here. I just had a small mental health break.

[looks at Burt's hat]

Travis B. Welker: What's up with that hat? Wait a minute. You changed teams?

Burt Gummer: [shouts at him louder] No, just hats!

Travis B. Welker: You're closing up? Dude, it's not Miller time yet. You can't find your beach.

Burt Gummer: Time for some shut-eye.

Travis B. Welker: Since when do you "shut-eye" in the middle of the afternoon?

Burt Gummer: Since you showed up!

Burt Gummer: Where are you going?

Travis B. Welker: Round two! I'm comin' with.

Burt Gummer: Request denied!

Travis B. Welker: What? Come on, here, stop bein' Burt for a minute, and logic this thing out with me. This is our chance to revive Burt Gummer's Bull's-Eye Brand, get you free of the taxman, dude! Let's be honest. You've got a lot of red in your ledger.

Burt Gummer: My financial status is none of your damn beeswax! And you'll just be in the way.

Travis B. Welker: Oh, like I was in South Africa? Huh?

Burt Gummer: That was a one-off! Nothing more!

Travis B. Welker: You're looking at this through the wrong end of the telescope here, friend! What 'bout your legacy, huh?

Burt Gummer: What about it?

Travis B. Welker: Do you know of any other Graboid hunters out there? Uh, I don't. I know, you know, Bigfoot hunters... No! You're Burt Gummer! You're a one-off! Come on man, teach me! Pay it forward.

Burt Gummer: Oh, I'm not dead yet!

Travis B. Welker: I know, and I'm not interested in talking about your mortality, either, But think about it. Who's gonna fill your shoes when you can no longer outrun or outgun these beasts, huh? I've got to tell you something. Burt Gummer's got some big-ass shoes to fill.

Burt Gummer: Size 12s.

Travis B. Welker: I've seen you in the locker room!

Burt Gummer: And you're my heir apparent. Is that it?

Travis B. Welker: You already led me through one Graboid gauntlet.

Burt Gummer: There's a lot you still don't know!

Travis B. Welker: Exactly my point! Learning can be so fun! Rosetta Stone me, dawg!

Mac: Welcome to the Great White North, eh!

Travis B. Welker: Otherwise known as Nowheresville!

Mac: You're about 1,000 miles north of there! You're somewhere between, uh, Ain't-Never-Been and Don't-Wanna-Go!

Burt Gummer: And who might you be?

Dr. D: I'm your next-door neighbour, while you're up here on your little worm hunt. But there's not welcome mat on my doorstep, so tread lightly. A piece of advice, Mr. Gummer: You stay out of my way and pay your taxes. Consider yourself properly warned!

Burt Gummer: Do I know you?

Dr. D: I don't know. Do you?

Burt Gummer: Since we're neighbors, here's some neighborly advice: Beat a retreat until I get this area cleared out.

Dr. D: Retreat? Hell, no. We're just getting started up here.

Burt Gummer: Then find a safe place to hunker down. Consider yourself properly warned!

Burt Gummer: You must be Valerie.

Valerie McKee: At your service. And thanks for answering our SOS.

Burt Gummer: Yeah, my call sign, these days.

Yankee: I see you've come up north loaded for bear, Mr. Burt.

Burt Gummer: Yeah.

[looks at Aklark's gun]

Burt Gummer: BSA, 303. Nice.

Yankee: It'll kill most varmints.

Burt Gummer: Yeah, well, for the varmints we're hunting, that's like shooting a slingshot at a Sherman tank.

Burt Gummer: Doc! Doc! Doc! Grow a spine, huh? Look at me. I have balls of steel! Say it!

Dr. Charles Freezze: I have balls of steel!

Burt Gummer: My balls are stainless steel!

Dr. Charles Freezze: My balls are stainless steel!

Burt Gummer: My balls are in the Guiness Book of Balls!

Dr. Charles Freezze: My balls are in the Guiness Book of Balls!

Burt Gummer: Right. You put this on.

Dr. Charles Freezze: Yes.

Burt Gummer: It'll hide your heat signature, huh? Now look. You stick with me like a shadow. You hear that?

Dr. Charles Freezze: Yes.

Burt Gummer: Now put that dick back in your pants and do what I do, right?

Dr. Charles Freezze: Yes, sir.

Burt Gummer: Roger?

Dr. Charles Freezze: Roger!

Burt Gummer: Roger that. Let's go.

Dr. Charles Freezze: Okay.

Burt Gummer: Come on, soldier. Hoods up!

Travis B. Welker: How are you feelin', Burt?

Burt Gummer: Speaking of underachievers, I am as strong as a fifth of whiskey, Wingman.

Travis B. Welker: Really? 'Cause you looked slower than the Mississippi out there.

Burt Gummer: Where's my munitions, my combat vest, my clothes, huh?

Travis B. Welker: To your left.

Travis B. Welker: Yeah, I know that's all macho and everything, Burt, but I happen to care about your health!

Burt Gummer: Go care somplace else!

Travis B. Welker: That's a dick thing to say!

Burt Gummer: I was never properly briefed on the lay of the land, Dr. Sims.

Dr. Rita Sims: [points to somewhere on the map] We are here. There are mountains to our east, west, north, and south. It's a true box canyon.

Burt Gummer: Total geographic isolation. Déjà-freaking-vu!

Travis B. Welker: [about Graboids] Oh, come on, man! They're gonna be like sand sharks bobbing for apples!

Burt Gummer: Yeah, and we'll be the Granny Smiths!

Burt Gummer: Yeah, but if it doesn't work, we die.

Travis B. Welker: So what the hell, Burt? Have you ever nailed Jell-O to a wall?

Burt Gummer: I'm not sure how that's relevant.

Travis B. Welker: It's relevant because I did it. And guess what? It stuck. You know why? Because everyone said I couldn't.

Swackhammer: [about one of the Graboids] Looks like Sally's testing our underground electrical fence.

Travis B. Welker: Who's Sally?

Dr. Rita Sims: [Swackhammer points at the Graboid] You named it?

Swackhammer: After an ex. Sally Soulsmasher. She was a dirty, man-eating bitch who used to stick her nose where it didn't belong.

Travis B. Welker: You ever seen an Ass Blaster before?

Dr. Rita Sims: Nope.

Travis B. Welker: Yeah?

Dr. Rita Sims: This is a first.

Travis B. Welker: They're pretty cool, actually, but they're mean, and they stink.

Dr. Rita Sims: I had a boyfriend like that once.

Travis B. Welker: You single?

Dr. Rita Sims: Are you trying to get sweet with me?

Travis B. Welker: Definitely.

Dr. Rita Sims: It's not gonna work.

Dr. Rita Sims: That thing's got me by the pants!

Travis B. Welker: So take off your pants!

Dr. Rita Sims: 100% no!

Travis B. Welker: Take off your pants, Rita!

Dr. Rita Sims: No!

Travis B. Welker: Take them off now, goddammit!

Dr. Rita Sims: No!

Travis B. Welker: Why?

Dr. Rita Sims: I'm not wearing any underwear!

Travis B. Welker: Ufff!

Travis B. Welker: Any movement?

Dr. Rita Sims: Nothing. Zip.

Aklark: Zilch.

Swackhammer: Nada mucho.

Mr. Cutts: Man, am I glad to see you guys now! Get me down from here!

Swackhammer: Jump, you chicken-shit!

Travis B. Welker: No, no, no. Don't jump, okay? But I'll tell you what you can do: Remove all the tax liens on Mr. Gummer for the last 27 years and give him back his house, and I'll make sure that you stay on this side of the tundra.

Mr. Cutts: Yeah, whatever. Done.

Travis B. Welker: Uh, no, we're not done! We also don't wanna pay taxes for the rest of our life! Federal or state, yeah!

Mr. Cutts: Nevada doesn't have state taxes!

Travis B. Welker: Yeah, no federal taxes!

Mr. Cutts: Well, that's gonna be a hard one to swing!

Travis B. Welker: Uh, have a nice life!

Mr. Cutts: Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah, fine! I'll do it.

Swackhammer: [brings a ladder. Talks to Mr. Cutts] You didn't see the ladder, asshole?

Travis B. Welker: [Prevents the ladder to hit his testicles. Talks to Swackhammer] Dude! Baby bag!

Swackhammer: [to Mr. Cutts] Hey, candy-ass! If you have a set of balls, now would be the time to use them!

Burt Gummer: Go slap a lien somewhere else.

Dr. Rita Sims: Already have. Hey. I see you've changed teams.

Burt Gummer: Hmm? No, just hats!

Dr. Rita Sims: Well, it was a miracle the Cubbies won that series. And frankly, Gummer, that's what you're gonna need: a miracle! 'Cause right now, your ass is in my hands!

Burt Gummer: Your point, Dickweed?

Dr. Rita Sims: Your tax position has been deemed frivolous by the IRS, and your property has hereby been seized!

Valerie McKee: Oh come on Burt. Don't be hurt! All right, now that I'm back, let's hit that reset button, huh? Put some fresh content up on YouTube, try and resurrect that Bull's-Eye Brand.

Burt Gummer: [shouts at Travis] Not doing prepper videos anymore! My director quit on me.

Valerie McKee: No, he didn't. He's right here. I just had a small mental health break.

[looks at Burt's hat]

Valerie McKee: What's up with that hat? Wait a minute. You changed teams?

Burt Gummer: [shouts at him louder] No, just hats!

Valerie McKee: You're closing up? Dude, it's not Miller time yet. You can't find your beach.

Burt Gummer: Time for some shut-eye.

Valerie McKee: Since when do you "shut-eye" in the middle of the afternoon?

Burt Gummer: Since you showed up!

Burt Gummer: Where are you going?

Valerie McKee: Round two! I'm comin' with.

Burt Gummer: Request denied!

Valerie McKee: What? Come on, here, stop bein' Burt for a minute, and logic this thing out with me. This is our chance to revive Burt Gummer's Bull's-Eye Brand, get you free of the taxman, dude! Let's be honest. You've got a lot of red in your ledger.

Burt Gummer: My financial status is none of your damn beeswax! And you'll just be in the way.

Valerie McKee: Oh, like I was in South Africa? Huh?

Burt Gummer: That was a one-off! Nothing more!

Valerie McKee: You're looking at this through the wrong end of the telescope here, friend! What 'bout your legacy, huh?

Burt Gummer: What about it?

Valerie McKee: Do you know of any other Graboid hunters out there? Uh, I don't. I know, you know, Bigfoot hunters... No! You're Burt Gummer! You're a one-off! Come on man, teach me! Pay it forward.

Burt Gummer: Oh, I'm not dead yet!

Valerie McKee: I know, and I'm not interested in talking about your mortality, either, But think about it. Who's gonna fill your shoes when you can no longer outrun or outgun these beasts, huh? I've got to tell you something. Burt Gummer's got some big-ass shoes to fill.

Burt Gummer: Size 12s.

Valerie McKee: I've seen you in the locker room!

Burt Gummer: And you're my heir apparent. Is that it?

Valerie McKee: You already led me through one Graboid gauntlet.

Burt Gummer: There's a lot you still don't know!

Valerie McKee: Exactly my point! Learning can be so fun! Rosetta Stone me, dawg!

Mac: Welcome to the Great White North, eh!

Valerie McKee: Otherwise known as Nowheresville!

Mac: You're about 1,000 miles north of there! You're somewhere between, uh, Ain't-Never-Been and Don't-Wanna-Go!

Burt Gummer: And who might you be?

Dr. Charles Freezze: I'm your next-door neighbour, while you're up here on your little worm hunt. But there's not welcome mat on my doorstep, so tread lightly. A piece of advice, Mr. Gummer: You stay out of my way and pay your taxes. Consider yourself properly warned!

Burt Gummer: Do I know you?

Dr. Charles Freezze: I don't know. Do you?

Burt Gummer: Since we're neighbors, here's some neighborly advice: Beat a retreat until I get this area cleared out.

Dr. Charles Freezze: Retreat? Hell, no. We're just getting started up here.

Burt Gummer: Then find a safe place to hunker down. Consider yourself properly warned!

Burt Gummer: You must be Valerie.

Mr. Cutts: At your service. And thanks for answering our SOS.

Burt Gummer: Yeah, my call sign, these days.

Dr. D: I see you've come up north loaded for bear, Mr. Burt.

Burt Gummer: Yeah.

[looks at Aklark's gun]

Burt Gummer: BSA, 303. Nice.

Dr. D: It'll kill most varmints.

Burt Gummer: Yeah, well, for the varmints we're hunting, that's like shooting a slingshot at a Sherman tank.

Burt Gummer: Doc! Doc! Doc! Grow a spine, huh? Look at me. I have balls of steel! Say it!

Dutch: I have balls of steel!

Burt Gummer: My balls are stainless steel!

Dutch: My balls are stainless steel!

Burt Gummer: My balls are in the Guiness Book of Balls!

Dutch: My balls are in the Guiness Book of Balls!

Burt Gummer: Right. You put this on.

Dutch: Yes.

Burt Gummer: It'll hide your heat signature, huh? Now look. You stick with me like a shadow. You hear that?

Dutch: Yes.

Burt Gummer: Now put that dick back in your pants and do what I do, right?

Dutch: Yes, sir.

Burt Gummer: Roger?

Dutch: Roger!

Burt Gummer: Roger that. Let's go.

Dutch: Okay.

Burt Gummer: Come on, soldier. Hoods up!

Travis B. Welker: Any movement?

Aussie: Nothing. Zip.

Mr. Cutts: Zilch.

Swackhammer: Nada mucho.

Yankee: Man, am I glad to see you guys now! Get me down from here!

Swackhammer: Jump, you chicken-shit!

Travis B. Welker: No, no, no. Don't jump, okay? But I'll tell you what you can do: Remove all the tax liens on Mr. Gummer for the last 27 years and give him back his house, and I'll make sure that you stay on this side of the tundra.

Yankee: Yeah, whatever. Done.

Travis B. Welker: Uh, no, we're not done! We also don't wanna pay taxes for the rest of our life! Federal or state, yeah!

Yankee: Nevada doesn't have state taxes!

Travis B. Welker: Yeah, no federal taxes!

Yankee: Well, that's gonna be a hard one to swing!

Travis B. Welker: Uh, have a nice life!

Yankee: Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah, fine! I'll do it.

Swackhammer: [brings a ladder. Talks to Mr. Cutts] You didn't see the ladder, asshole?

Travis B. Welker: [Prevents the ladder to hit his testicles. Talks to Swackhammer] Dude! Baby bag!

Swackhammer: [to Mr. Cutts] Hey, candy-ass! If you have a set of balls, now would be the time to use them!

Swackhammer: [about one of the Graboids] Looks like Sally's testing our underground electrical fence.

Travis B. Welker: Who's Sally?

Aussie: [Swackhammer points at the Graboid] You named it?

Swackhammer: After an ex. Sally Soulsmasher. She was a dirty, man-eating bitch who used to stick her nose where it didn't belong.

Travis B. Welker: You ever seen an Ass Blaster before?

Aussie: Nope.

Travis B. Welker: Yeah?

Aussie: This is a first.

Travis B. Welker: They're pretty cool, actually, but they're mean, and they stink.

Aussie: I had a boyfriend like that once.

Travis B. Welker: You single?

Aussie: Are you trying to get sweet with me?

Travis B. Welker: Definitely.

Aussie: It's not gonna work.

Aussie: That thing's got me by the pants!

Travis B. Welker: So take off your pants!

Aussie: 100% no!

Travis B. Welker: Take off your pants, Rita!

Aussie: No!

Travis B. Welker: Take them off now, goddammit!

Aussie: No!

Travis B. Welker: Why?

Aussie: I'm not wearing any underwear!

Travis B. Welker: Ufff!

Burt Gummer: I was never properly briefed on the lay of the land, Dr. Sims.

Aussie: [points to somewhere on the map] We are here. There are mountains to our east, west, north, and south. It's a true box canyon.

Burt Gummer: Total geographic isolation. Déjà-freaking-vu!

Burt Gummer: I was never properly briefed on the lay of the land, Dr. Sims.

Geo-Tech Vargas: [points to somewhere on the map] We are here. There are mountains to our east, west, north, and south. It's a true box canyon.

Burt Gummer: Total geographic isolation. Déjà-freaking-vu!

Royal Mounted: [about one of the Graboids] Looks like Sally's testing our underground electrical fence.

Travis B. Welker: Who's Sally?

Geo-Tech Vargas: [Swackhammer points at the Graboid] You named it?

Royal Mounted: After an ex. Sally Soulsmasher. She was a dirty, man-eating bitch who used to stick her nose where it didn't belong.

Travis B. Welker: You ever seen an Ass Blaster before?

Geo-Tech Vargas: Nope.

Travis B. Welker: Yeah?

Geo-Tech Vargas: This is a first.

Travis B. Welker: They're pretty cool, actually, but they're mean, and they stink.

Geo-Tech Vargas: I had a boyfriend like that once.

Travis B. Welker: You single?

Geo-Tech Vargas: Are you trying to get sweet with me?

Travis B. Welker: Definitely.

Geo-Tech Vargas: It's not gonna work.

Geo-Tech Vargas: That thing's got me by the pants!

Travis B. Welker: So take off your pants!

Geo-Tech Vargas: 100% no!

Travis B. Welker: Take off your pants, Rita!

Geo-Tech Vargas: No!

Travis B. Welker: Take them off now, goddammit!

Geo-Tech Vargas: No!

Travis B. Welker: Why?

Geo-Tech Vargas: I'm not wearing any underwear!

Travis B. Welker: Ufff!

Travis B. Welker: Any movement?

Geo-Tech Vargas: Nothing. Zip.

Dutch: Zilch.

Royal Mounted: Nada mucho.

Swackhammer: Man, am I glad to see you guys now! Get me down from here!

Royal Mounted: Jump, you chicken-shit!

Travis B. Welker: No, no, no. Don't jump, okay? But I'll tell you what you can do: Remove all the tax liens on Mr. Gummer for the last 27 years and give him back his house, and I'll make sure that you stay on this side of the tundra.

Swackhammer: Yeah, whatever. Done.

Travis B. Welker: Uh, no, we're not done! We also don't wanna pay taxes for the rest of our life! Federal or state, yeah!

Swackhammer: Nevada doesn't have state taxes!

Travis B. Welker: Yeah, no federal taxes!

Swackhammer: Well, that's gonna be a hard one to swing!

Travis B. Welker: Uh, have a nice life!

Swackhammer: Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah, fine! I'll do it.

Royal Mounted: [brings a ladder. Talks to Mr. Cutts] You didn't see the ladder, asshole?

Travis B. Welker: [Prevents the ladder to hit his testicles. Talks to Swackhammer] Dude! Baby bag!

Royal Mounted: [to Mr. Cutts] Hey, candy-ass! If you have a set of balls, now would be the time to use them!

Mac: [about Mr. Cutts] You know that skid mark?

Burt Gummer: What can you tell me about him?

Mac: Well, rumor has it he's up here workin' on some Area 51 stuff, some joint US-Canadian turd factory bein' developed by Harpo... Darpo...

Burt Gummer: You mean darpa?

Mac: That's the one! Know them?

Burt Gummer: Yeah, they're the acronym for evil.

Burt Gummer: You must be Valerie.

Dutch: At your service. And thanks for answering our SOS.

Burt Gummer: Yeah, my call sign, these days.

Burt Gummer: Doc! Doc! Doc! Grow a spine, huh? Look at me. I have balls of steel! Say it!

Aklark: I have balls of steel!

Burt Gummer: My balls are stainless steel!

Aklark: My balls are stainless steel!

Burt Gummer: My balls are in the Guiness Book of Balls!

Aklark: My balls are in the Guiness Book of Balls!

Burt Gummer: Right. You put this on.

Aklark: Yes.

Burt Gummer: It'll hide your heat signature, huh? Now look. You stick with me like a shadow. You hear that?

Aklark: Yes.

Burt Gummer: Now put that dick back in your pants and do what I do, right?

Aklark: Yes, sir.

Burt Gummer: Roger?

Aklark: Roger!

Burt Gummer: Roger that. Let's go.

Aklark: Okay.

Burt Gummer: Come on, soldier. Hoods up!

Aklark: I see you've come up north loaded for bear, Mr. Burt.

Burt Gummer: Yeah.

Burt Gummer: [looks at Aklark's gun] BSA, 303. Nice.

Aklark: It'll kill most varmints.

Burt Gummer: Yeah, well, for the varmints we're hunting, that's like shooting a slingshot at a Sherman tank.

Burt Gummer: And who might you be?

Mr. Cutts: I'm your next-door neighbour, while you're up here on your little worm hunt. But there's not welcome mat on my doorstep, so tread lightly. A piece of advice, Mr. Gummer: You stay out of my way and pay your taxes. Consider yourself properly warned!

Burt Gummer: Do I know you?

Mr. Cutts: I don't know. Do you?

Burt Gummer: Since we're neighbors, here's some neighborly advice: Beat a retreat until I get this area cleared out.

Mr. Cutts: Retreat? Hell, no. We're just getting started up here.

Burt Gummer: Then find a safe place to hunker down. Consider yourself properly warned!