Prock: First of all, we didn't zip. We were zapped. Huge difference.
Impresario: I may have zapped my pants on re-entry, if you know what I mean.
Tim: Uh, who wouldn't know what you mean?
Prock: Is there any way to appeal the decision?
Joyce: Yes, you can appeal it verbally to my right now.
Prock: I feel like you're just going to say no.
Joyce: Well, you won't know until you appeal.
Prock: Will you please...?
Frantic: My cousin used to make patterns in the cornfield with a tractor. He said he was sending signals to alien lifeforms.
Muscleman: That's crazy.
Frantic: What's crazy is how he died.
Frantic: No, the horse he was having sex with fell on him.
Gadget Gal: Who wants some nose candy?
Prock: Gadget Gal!
Gadget Gal: And by that, I mean Dr. Bloomer's Nose Lozenges.
Prock: Oh, that's fine, then.
Gadget Gal: Made from pure cocaine.
Gadget Gal: In my day our men kept their feelings bottled up inside. Just a churning mass of emotions and rage they could never show the outside world. Eventually that pressure would be too much to bear. The weak ones would blow their brains out, but the strong ones would use it. They'd use it in the bedroom. And it would turn them from men into animals who exploded with passion. And then when it was over, they'd cry out, "Mama! Mama!" And then you'd have to slap them and say, "I ain't your mama and I never will be, but if you think you can muster the energy, I'd happily take another ride.
Tim: I just hit puberty.
Prock: But robots always turn on us.
Joyce: Says who?
Prock: Says the "Robots Always Turn on Us" mural.
Tim: You need to ask yourself, why am I rampaging?
Wombat: Uh, cause Wombat like rampaging. And stealing. Must steal. I mean, rampaging not pay very well.
Prock: But I'm not crazy.
Impresario: Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, baby.
Frantic: Nope, it's also a stripper my daddy used to let sleep over. Ohh, Mary Ann Denial. You are likely dead.
Muscleman: Robots? Holy crap.
Tim: Yeah, what did you think was happening?
Muscleman: No time to think! Now, to think about what to do.
Paul the Robot: But ask yourselves, which one amongst you hasn't given us a secret we can tell? Which one among you is safe to reveal their true selves?
Concierge: My southern accent hides it, but I'm a stone-cold bitch.
Impresario: I don't love my mamma. Enough.
Frantic: I'm severely mentally ill.
Perfectman: I worry that I might be too perfect.
Old Lady: I collect glass elephants. And murder hobos.
General: I only became a general because I watched General Hospital.
Tim: The robots are malfunctioning.
Impresario: I'm about to malfunction my lunch. if you know what I mean.
Tim: Again, who wouldn't know what you mean?