A werewolf terrorizes a small city where lives Marty Coslaw, - a paralytic boy - his uncle and his sister - the narrator of the story.

Uncle Red: I mean, uh, what the heck you gonna shoot a .44 bullet at anyway... made out of silver?
Mac: How about a werewolf?
Uncle Red: There are no such things as werewolves!
Uncle Red: I feel like a virgin on prom night.
Stella Randolph: Suicides go to hell - especially if they're pregnant - and I don't even care.
Marty Coslaw: This is for the good guys!
Uncle Red: [trying to explain having a silver bullet made] My nephew has just discovered the Lone Ranger.
Pete Sylvester: Maybe that wasn't such a good idea telling that Smokey Bear from the detective division to 'fuck off', Joe.
Sheriff Joe Haller: Well, I waited till he hung up.
Jane Coslaw: What's the money for?
Marty Coslaw: A new pair of pantyhose. Is it enough? Jane, please take the money. It was Brady's idea, honest to God. I wanna make up.
Jane Coslaw: I can get a pair of Leggs down at the pharmacy for $1.49.
Uncle Red: [after Jane and Marty tell him about the werewolf] I'm a little too old to be playing "Hardy Boys meet Reverend Werewolf"!
Mac: It's got a low-grain load, so it won't tumble.
Uncle Red: Where's your Mom?
Marty Coslaw: She and Dad are out back lighting the barbeque, yeah, and Jane's walking around in all these new clothes showing off her tits, acting like no one ever had tits before her.
Jane Coslaw: I hate you, you booger!
Milt Sturmfuller: Damn cripple. Always end up on welfare. Oughta electrocute 'em all, balance the goddamned budget.
Sheriff Joe Haller: [to the mob, lead by Andy Fairton] The law has a name for what you people are planning. It's called "private justice". And private justice is about a step and a half away from lynch mobs and hang ropes. Now I may be no J. Edgar Hoover, but I am the law in Tarker's Mills. I want all you people to go home.
Andy Fairton: Don't let this guy scare you! What's he done since this whole thing started but hang his face out? He ain't got so much as a fingerprint!
Owen Knopfler: Shut up, Andy.
Andy Fairton: No, don't tell me to shut up.
Herb Kincaid: Yes... Shut up. I just came from my boy's funeral.
Sheriff Joe Haller: Herb. Herb, I know how upset... how grief-stricken you must be.
Herb Kincaid: He was torn apart.
Sheriff Joe Haller: I know that. I...
Herb Kincaid: Upset? Grief-stricken? You don't know what those words mean. My son was torn to pieces. Pieces!
[shouts]
Herb Kincaid: MY SON WAS TORN TO PIECES! You come in here and talk to these men about private justice? You dare to do that? Why do you go out to Harmony Hill, Sheriff Haller, and dig up what's left of my boy Brady... and explain to him about private justice. Would you want to do that? As for me, I'm gonna go out and hunt up a little private justice.
[walks out of the bar]
Andy Fairton: [to the mob] You heard him. Let's go!
Maggie Andrews: What's the matter, Bobby? You gonna make lemonade in your pants?
Bobby Robertson: I ain't scared!
Jane Coslaw: Aww, look out world, Marty the Great didn't get something he wanted.
Arnie Westrum: [singing] My beer is Rango, right here. The name's Rango whenever I hear. It's not bitter, not sweet, a real frosty treat. Won't you buy, won't you buy Rango Beer. Won't you try, won't you buy...
Arnie Westrum: [hearing the crunch of a footstep] Jesus, Arnie. What're you - afraid of boogeyman? Heh-heh. God. Come on out of there, buster, and gimme a hand. All right now. What is it that you want, Arnie? I want some Rango!
Jane Coslaw: In the made-up stories, the guy who's the werewolf only changes when the moon is full, but maybe he's like this almost all the time, only as the moon gets fuller...
Marty Coslaw: ...the guy gets wolfier.
Jane Coslaw: You always take his side 'cause he's crippled. Well, it's not my fault he's crippled!
Nan Coslaw: You just wanna be quiet or I'm gonna smack you! Now, I mean it!
Uncle Red: Holy jumped-up baldheaded Jesus palomino!
Jane Coslaw: Uncle Red...
Uncle Red: [to Jane then Marty then Jane again] From him I'd expect it. Sometimes I think your common sense got paralyzed along with your legs. But from you, Jane - you're Miss Polly Practical!
Jane Coslaw: You don't understand.
Uncle Red: I understand that my niece and my nephew are sending little love notes to the local minister suggesting he gargle with broken glass or eat a rat-poison omelette!
Milt Sturmfuller: Ow! That's it. Oh, that hurts my parts.
Uncle Red: You wanna know what I think?
Marty Coslaw: No, we just called you out here to admire your pretty little face.
Uncle Red: You better watch your mouth, right now. You're on thin ice with me, son.
Stella's Boyfriend: I told you, Babe, it ain't my baby - and don't you ever drag me off like that again!
Stella Randolph: Please, don't say that. You know it's your baby.
Stella's Boyfriend: Look, we had this conversation before.
Stella Randolph: You know it better than anybody.
Stella's Boyfriend: Sorry, Babe.
Stella Randolph: I have to have some help and I don't know what to do.
Stella's Boyfriend: It's your oven but it ain't my bun ya got bakin' in there, huh? See ya.
Stella Randolph: [sobbing] You have to help me.
Stella's Boyfriend: [abandoning her] Remember the good times, you know what I mean?
Reverend Lowe: You see, you meddling little shit!
Elmer Zinneman: [sees Marty stuck inside the condemned covered bridge] Spooky in here, isn't it?
Marty Coslaw: You know who used to have a baseball bat like that? Mr. Knopfler.
Uncle Red: So?
Jane Coslaw: It looked like Bigfoot had used it for a toothpick!
Billy McLaren: Where's it coming from? Over there?
Bobby Robertson: No, it's behind us. I told you you couldn't trust this fog!
Aspinall: It's... under the fog!
Andy Fairton: What're you saying?
Aspinall: It's right here WITH us!
[more growling can be heard and Edgar is attacked; Maggie screams]
Bobby Robertson: [petrified with fear] I can't move!
Aspinall: Start backing up, Andy.
Andy Fairton: Yeah.
Aspinall: Real slow.
[Aspinall is attacked and Andy's gun goes off]
Andy Fairton: Joe Haller couldn't find his own ass if somebody rammed it full of radium and gave him a Geiger counter!

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