Frank is experiencing life with his head in a toilet. Next he'll
experience life with his head in a trash compactor, if he doesn't come
up with the thug's money...Read the full recap
Rod: Today is put-your-head-in-the-toilet day. You know what that makes tomorrow, Frank? Put-your-head-in-the-trash-compactor day.
Ian: Gotta love these half days.
Mandy: Good thing public education is broke.
Lip: Yeah, waste of time anyway. The only thing those people are equipped to teach is how to live with crippling disappointment.
Frank: (wearing pantyhose over his head) Give me the money. I've got a gun.
Frank: What? No. I'll use it!
Polly: For what, to jack off? Go home.
Kermit: Frank's mail. He's been having it sent to my place. But my girlfriend Cynthia moved in, and she's been making a lot of changes. She threw out my collection of 19th-century erotica. That was hard. She threw out my old Atari cartridges. That was harder. But let's be honest. She's my last chance at happiness, and that's more important than video games and masturbation, right?
Linda: (about Kash) How does a grown man let a teenager take a gun from him? How can a man who has fathered two children have no balls? It's a medical mystery.
Veronica: Just go.
Fiona: You don't think I want to? A night in a fancy hotel? You don't think I'd love to jump at that? But I don't have a choice. I don't get to "just go."
Veronica: Don't be stupid. You have a choice. You're just making the wrong one. Everybody's gonna be in one piece when you get back. Just go. Order some room service, take a bath, fuck with the curtains open.
Frank: (to Lip, Debbie and Carl) Show of hands, how many of you, at one point or another, wanted to see me dead?
(Everyone raises their hand)
Frank: Yeah! Here's your chance.
Linda: (watching the security tape) Can you come here for a second, honey? I want to show you something. This is from yesterday. Does anything look different to you?
Linda: You don't see the camera? It's like it moved just a little bit. There.
Kash: Register matches inventory.
Linda: Yeah, you're right. I should probably shut it off. But then I'd miss the part where you take it up the ass from a teenage boy. Here it is. Billy Elliott cornholing the father of my children. Must be big, judging from the grimace on your face.
(Kash turns the TV off)
Linda: What? We were just getting to the climax. Literally.
Frank: I followed the light, and there was Jesus. He enveloped me in his arms. He was warm, like... like the inner thighs of an overworked hooker.