Woody: Hey, Sam, that guy still didn't show up with the money. He is gonna give it to me, isn't he?
Carla: Of course he will. No bookie would welsh on a bet. He'd be the lowest spitwad on earth.
Sam: Actually, murderers are lower.
Woody: You know, back home we'd take welshers, rub them with bacon fat and throw them in the sty with Romeo, the friendly hog.