...before you taste some REAL pain.
Here is the conversation:
Tough Guy: I don't like soldier boys.
Highway: Say what?
Tough Guy: If you want to pop that puppy's can, you don't gotta grease him so hard, jar head.
Highway: Sounds like you're a man of experience.
Tough Guy: What the f*ck's that mean, grunge sh*t?
Highway: It means, be advised, I'm mean, nasty, and tired. I eat concertina wire and piss napalm, and I can put a round through a flea's ass at 200 yards. So why don't you go hump somebody else's leg, mutt face, before I bash yours in.
Tough Guy: Ain't gonna be so smart with your balls stuffed in your mouth, jar head!
Highway: (to kid sitting next to him) Hold onto this boy, I think war's just been declared.
(physical altercation dominated by Highway)
Highway: Why don't you just lie there and bleed a while, before you taste some real pain?
Tough Guy: (opens switchblade) Maybe first, I carve me some f*gg*t wings!
(Highway disarms Tough Guy, sends him head first into cell bars as other detainees look on in amazement, amusement, and relief)
Highway: (continuing previous conversation) ...then again, there was this dusky gal in Bangkok, a real crossway breezer, I swear...