“Reese Bobby: [walks into the classroom] Excuse me, darling. I'm Reese Bobby. I'm here for career day with my son, Ricky.

10-year-old Ricky: Dad!

Reese Bobby: Hey there, boy! Man, you got big. How long's it been? Three, four months?

10-year-old Ricky: Ten years.

Reese Bobby: Ten years? Man, I gotta lay off the peyote. [puts a cigarette in his mouth]

Schoolteacher: Mr. Bobby, there's no smoking in here.

Reese Bobby: Oh, it's all right, darling, I'm a volunteer fireman. OK, I am a semi-professional race car driver and an amateur tattoo artist.

Classmates: OOOOHHHH!

Reese Bobby: And the first thing you gotta learn if you're gonna be a race car driver, is that you don't listen to losers like your know-it-all teacher here.

Schoolteacher: Okay, I think that's enough.

Reese Bobby: Your teacher wants you to go slow, and she's wrong because it's the fastest who get paid and it's the fastest who get laid. [classmates all cheer]”