Vinny: [goes on a hunting trip] What about these pants I got on? You think they’re okay?
Lisa: Imagine you’re a deer. You’re prancin’ along. You get thirsty. You spot a little brook. You put your little deer lips down to the cool, clear water… BAM! A fuckin’ bullet rips off part of your head! Your brains are laying on the ground in little bloody pieces! Now I ask ya, would you give a fuck what kind of pants the son of a bitch who shot you was wearing?