Charlotte: You know, you could do with loosening up a bit.
Ned: I don't do loose. I prefer tightly wound. Not shapeless with extra room for surprises.
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Olive: Oh, isn't it great we can joke? Now that we that we know that there's nothing going on between us and never was. It can be funny. I bet this sort of thing happens all the time between adults. Mixed romantic messages. In no time we'll be looking back and laugh until we wet the rug. Which we'll then want to shampoo. Couple times. Possibly three, depending on what we were drinking.
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Narrator: Private investigator Emerson Cod was enjoying the latest issue of Knit-Wit magazine. His literary outlet for knitting humor.
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(smelling a burnt corpse)
Charlotte: That is pungent!
Emerson: Yeah. Pungent like fried chicken grilled on a bed of hair.
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Emerson: (about Ned) I must admit I am curious. Hell, before dead girl came along, I didn't know what you liked, or if you liked, or if you had anything to like with. For all I know, you could have been one of those people who was born with both but didn't use either.
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Olive: I had a cousin with a third nipple. He'd let you see it for a dollar.
Vivian: How fascinating.
Lily: And a bargain, too.
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Anita Gray: (as Ned prepares to re-kill her) Am I going to see my grandmother now?
Emerson: (muttering) As far as you know.
Ned: That's a yes!
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Emerson: Death by scratch-n-sniff. What the hell happened to people shooting each other with guns?
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Emerson: Your book was a bomb.
Napoleon LeNez: How dare you say that about my life's work.
Emerson: (Holding up the remains of Napoleon's book) Your book was a bomb, it blew up.
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Olive: Look carefully, ladies; this is your future.
Lily: Is it vodka?
Olive: Water.
Lily: As in Russian for vodka?
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Vivian: Lily doesn't believe in water anymore, she thinks it's a waste of a perfectly good tumbler.
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Vivian: Chlorine. Lily used to say it reminded her of bottled sunshine.
Lily: Now it reminds me of children without bladder control.
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