Honey, I'm seven non-fox years old. My father died at seven and a half. I don't want to live in a hole anymore. I'm going to do something about it.
My suicide mission has been cancelled. We're replacing it with a go-for-broke rescue mission.
Are you cussing with me?
What the cuss, where'd this giant fence come from?! We had a master plan!
I guess we do have these three ugly farmers to thank for one thing: reminding us to be thankful and aware of each other. I'm gonna say it again: aware.
[to Badger]YOU SCARED THE CUSS OUT OF US!
I think I have this thing where everybody has to think I'm the greatest, the quote unquote 'Fantastic Mr. Fox', and if they aren't completely knocked out and dazzled and slightly intimidated by me, I don't feel good about myself.
Redemption? Sure. But in the end, he's just another dead rat in a garbage pail behind a Chinese restaurant.
[To Frank Bean, as he prepares for the final battle] Your tractors uprooted my tree. Your posse hunted my family. Your gunmen kidnapped my nephew. Your rat insulted my wife... and YOU shot off my tail! I'm not leaving here without that necktie!
[In the supermarket, offering a juice-box toast] They say all foxes are slightly allergic to linoleum, but it's cool to the paw - try it. They say my tail needs to be dry cleaned twice a month, but now it's fully detachable - see? They say our tree may never grow back, but one day, something will. Yes, these crackles are made of synthetic goose and these giblets come from artificial squab and even these apples look fake - but at least they've got stars on them. I guess my point is, we'll eat tonight, and we'll eat together. And even in this not particularly flattering light, you are without a doubt the five and a half most wonderful wild animals I've ever met in my life. So let's raise our boxes - to our survival.
Ah, yes. He's very clever, isn't he? Might be a bit difficult, I suppose. [shoots every light around in one fluid movement] But I already figured out where this fox lives. So tomorrow night, we'll camp in the bushes, wait for him to come out of the hole in the tree, and shoot the cuss to smithereens. How does that grab you, fellas?
That's just weak songwriting! You wrote a BAD song, Petey!
Mr. Fox: Why a fox? Why not a horse, or a beetle, or a bald eagle? I'm saying this more as, like, existentialism, you know? Who am I? And how can a fox ever be happy without, you'll forgive the expression, a chicken in its teeth?
Kylie: I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds illegal.
Badger: Don't buy this tree, Foxy. You're borrowing at nine and a half with no fixed rate, plus moving into the most dangerous area in the world for your type of species.
Mr.Fox: You're exaggerating, Badger.
Badger: [scoffs] I'm sugar-coating it, man. This is Boggis, Bunce, and Bean, three of the meanest, nastiest, and ugliest farmers in the history of this valley.
Mr.Fox: Right, tell me about them.
Badger: [sighs] Allright. Walt Boggis is a chicken farmer, probably the most successful in the world. He weighs the same as a young rhinoceros. He eats three chickens every day for breakfast, lunch, supper, and dessert. That's twelve in total per deim. Nate Bunce is a duck and goose farmer. He is approximately the size of a pot-bellied dwarf, and his chin would be underwater in the shallow end of any swimming pool on the planet. His food is homemade donuts with mashed up goose livers injected into them. Frank Bean is a turkey and apple farmer. He invented his own species of each. He lives on a liquid diet of strong alcoholic cider, which he makes from his apples. He's as skinny as a pencil, as smart as a whip, and possibly the scariest man currently living.
Coach Skip: [explaining the rules of whack-bat] Basically, there's three grabbers, three taggers, five twig runners, and a player at whack-bat. Center tagger lights a pine cone and chucks it over the basket and the whack-batter tries to hit the cedar stick off the cross rock. Then the twig runners dash back and forth until the pine cone burns out and the umpire calls hotbox. Finally, you count up however many score-downs it adds up to and divide that by nine.
Kristofferson: Got it.
Mr. Fox: I spotted a couple of broken burglar bars underneath the back door to Bean's secret cider cellar.
Kylie: We're breaking into Bean's house?
Mr. Fox: Cellar.
Kylie: Where he lives?
Mr. Fox: Where he keeps the cider.
Ash: [appears behind them]Below where he lives.
Mr. Fox: Where'd you come from? You go back to the tree and do your homework.
Ash: I wanna help you steal some cider.
Mr. Fox: We're going to a book party, and you keep your mouth shut about any cider because no one ever said that. Now get out of here!
Mr. Fox: But nothing! You're gonna get me in a lot of trouble! Besides, you're too little and uncoordinated.
[Ash scowls, twitches his ear and spits.]
Mr. Fox: [points at the tree] One, two, three!
[Ash storms back to the tree grumbling in anger.]
Felicity Fox: [Kristofferson has just departed after Ash's comment] You have got twenty-nine minutes to come up with a proper apology.
Ash: [snaps, gestures wildly] Me? Me have an apology? He gets a bandit hat? He just got here, and he gets a bandit hat? Where's my bandit hat? Why didn't I get shot at? It's because, you... you... YOU THINK I'M NO GOOD AT ANYTHING! Well, maybe you're right, thanks. [stomps away angrily and slams door upon exit]
Kylie: [sighs; to Mr. Fox] Told ya not to bring him.
Bean: Ah, so good of you to come! I'm happy to see you! You both looking splendid! How ya been, Walter? In good health, I trust.
Boggis: Uh, uh, uh...
Bean: Nathan, all is well?
Bean: Wonderful! Any fox problems?
Boggis: Are you joking?!
Bunce: It's horrible!
Boggis: We're miserable!
Bunce: He's laughing at us!
Boggis: It's humiliating!
Bunce: We're furious!
Boggis: I don't even want to talk about it.
Bean: [drinks a glass of cider] Perhaps we ought to kill him.
Boggis: Well, that seems rather obvious.
Bunce: He's too sneaky!
Bean: Ah, yes. He's very clever, isn't he? Might be a bit difficult, I suppose. [shoots every light around in one fluid movement] But I already figured out where this fox lives. So tomorrow night, we'll camp in the bushes, wait for him to come out of the hole in the tree, and shoot the cuss to smithereens. How does that grab you, fellas?
Boggis: Yeah, don't see why not.
Mr. Fox: Wake up, everybody, they're digging us out!
Felicity: They'll kill the children!
Mr. Fox: Over my dead body, they will!
Felicity: That's what I'm saying, you'd be dead too in that scenario!
Mr. Foxː Well, I'm arguing against thatǃ
[They begin arguing over each other.]
Felicityː What are you talking about?ǃ
Mr. Foxː WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?ǃ
Kylieː STOP, STOP, STOPǃ! You say one thing, she says another, and it all changes back againǃ
Felicity: I'm going to lose my temper now.
Mr. Fox: When?
Felicity: Right now.
Mr. Fox: Well, when-- [Felicity slashes at his face with her claws] OW!
Felicity: Twelve fox years ago, you made a promise to me, while we we're caged inside that fox trap. That if we survived, you would never steal another chicken, turkey, goose, duck, or a squab whatever they are, and I believed you. [starts to cry] Why? Why did you lie to me?!?
Mr. Fox: Because I'm a wild animal.
Felicity: You are also a husband, and a father!
Mr. Fox: I'm trying to tell you the truth about myself.
Felicity: I don't care about the truth about yourself. This story is too... predictable.
Mr. Fox: Predictable? Really? What happens in the end?
Felicity: In the end, we all die! Unless you change.
Mr. Fox: YOU SCARED THE CUSS OUT OF US!
Badger: [growls] A lot of good animals are PROBABLY GONNA DIE, BECAUSE OF YOU![everyone looked shocked] We've been digging in circles for three days. Half the woods have been obliterated. Nobody can get out. Right now my wife's huddled at the bottom of the flint-mine... with no food, no water, and TWENTY SEVEN STARVING ANIMALS BRATS!
Phil: I just want to see... a little sunshine...
Mr. Fox: But you're nocturnal, Phil. Your eyes barely open on a good day.
Phil: I'm sick of your double talk! We have rights!
Ash: You should probably put your bandit hat on now. Personally, I-I don't have one, but I modified this tube sock.
Kristofferson: We look good.
Ash: Yeah, we do.
[after all the animal have been flushed into the sewers by Bean's cider, Mr. Fox goes into a tunnel to be alone, Felicity follows]
Mr. Fox: Badger's right. These farmers aren't gonna quit until the catch me. I shouldn't have lied to your face. I shouldn't have fallen off the wagon and started stealing chickens on the sly. I shouldn't have driven these farmers so far and cussed with their heads. I enjoyed it, but I shouldn't have done it. But now there's only one way out of this. If I hand myself over and let them kill me, stuff me, and hang me over their mantelpiece.
Felicity: You'll do no such thing.
Mr. Fox: Darling, maybe they'll let everyone else live.
Felicity: [starts to cry] Oh, why did you have to get us into this, Foxy?
Mr. Fox: I don't know, but I have a possible theory. I keep the getting the feeling that I have to show everyone I'm the greatest, the quote-unquote Fantastic Mr. Fox. And if people aren't knocked out and dazzled and slightly intimidated by me, I don't feel good about myself. Foxes traditionally like to hunt prey, court danger, and outsmart predators, and that's what I'm good at. I guess in the end, I'm just...
Felicity: I know, we're wild animals.
Mr. Fox: I guess we always were. I swear if I asked to go through this, I would've never let you down. It was let better when we did it together anyway. [both foxes kiss and hug] I love you, Felicity.
Felicity: I love you, too. But I shouldn't have married you.
Mr. Fox: [in a cellar with many of the other animal characters] Alright, let's start planning. Who knows shorthand? [Linda raises her hand]
Mr. Fox: Great! Linda! Lutra lutra - you got some dry paper? [she holds up paper]