Dumbass left your crap-box car at the club.

I mean, baseball, boxing, race-car driving.

There's enough ammunition in the box cars to blow us to Tara.

Couches, floors, witness boxes, police cars, jail cells.

Dumb ass left your crap box car at the club. A cop buddy run the plates, and guess what?

Well, the boxes are in my car.

Here, in fifth car, two boxes.

After all those years living in box cars and on the streets, I thought I might start up my own business.

My wallet's still there and my car's boxed in.

Augustine... best get another box from the car.