Socrates: There's this little passage I got memorized that I like to recite in situations like this. It is a tale of a brave man, Er, who once died in war. On the twelfth day, as he was already laid out on the funeral pyre, he revived, and told what he had seen yonder. He said that after his soul had left him it travelled with many others until they came to a marvellous place, where there were two openings upward into heaven, and between them sat judges. These, when they had given judgment, ordered the just to go upward through the heavens by the opening on the right. The unjust they ordered to travel downward by the opening on the left. For all the wrongs they had done to any person they paid a tenfold penalty. Savage men, all fiery to look at bound their feet, hands and heads, and threw them down and beat them, tortured them on thorny bushes.

Aristotle: What the f**k was that all about?

Socrates: So, motherf**ker, prepare to test the hypothesis! See, I've got it figured out, I'm the just man, and you're the unjust man, my gun is the thorny bushes, and Mr. dead pansy here is the judge. Now DIE MOTHERFUC --

Aristotle: But what if I'm the just man and you're the unjust man and this dead dipshit is the thorny bushes?

Socrates: Oh, uh ...

Aristotle: Or what if Alcibiades is the just man, and we're both unjust men. And the thorny bushes are the judge?

Socrates: S**t, well I guess that all depends on your definition of justice.

- Nathaniel Daw's "Republic Dogs" (h/t Michel Butler)