Sam: What the hell. Woody, come on around here and we'll check you out.
Woody: [jumps over the bar] You won't regret it, Mr. Malone. I love bartending. You get behind a bar, and right away strangers are your best friends. You know, they call you great names, like "buddy" and "pal" and "chief" and "ace."
Sam: Here's your apron, sport.
Woody: Sport! Another great one! But listen, let me make one thing clear. One mistake, and I'm out on my butt.
Norm: Hey, Cliffie, next time you try to imitate that helicopter, I think you ought to chalk up the cues before you stick them in your ears.
Cliff: You kidding, Norm? I'd look pretty silly with chalk in my ears.
Sam: Cliff, Norm, Woody Boyd. Woody's gonna be helping us out around here.
Cliff: Hey. Nice to meet you. All right.
Woody: What's your pleasure, gents? Make it anything you want. Now, where I come from, all anyone ever drinks is beer. Beer's fine, but any monkey can pull down a tap. Why study years to be an ace mixologist just to serve beer after beer after beer? So, what will it be?
Norm: Beer.
Cliff: Same.