Sgt. Hatred: You can't just hose him like a convict.
Brock: He's got ants on his ass. This is how you deal with the problem.
Brock: Someone is in my car!
Hank: Now that's a super power. He can do that from 10 states away.
Hunters Gathers: Her tits were like "coming home from school and finding out your old man ran over your cat" sad.
Brock Samson: Mournful tits. She has mournful tits. They're like two suicide notes stuffed into a glitter bra.
You don't want my life. What do I have to show for it? Metal plate in my chest, Vatican karate gorilla blood on my hands, and a foot locker full of manbro viles.
Brock: Back to the high-n-tight huh?
Hank: Yeah, I feel like the Jewish guy who lost all his powers when they cut all his hair off.
Hank: Lenny Kravitz.
Col. Hunter Gathers: He came highly recommended. Suppose to be an expert.
Brock: An expert at what? Poopy??
Brock: What color is my tongue?
Hank: Wednesday. Maybe a light Wednesday.
So that's what happened to the sevens.
Brock: We had to make sacrifices.
Dr. Venture: Like covering yourselves in rotten eggs. Do you know how bad you smell?
Brock: No, ass! Like living next to the boys for a year and not being able to tell them that they're safe. That kinda sacrifice!
Hunter: I had my pud removed, then reattached.
ShoreLeave: I pretended I became a religious fanatic.
Sky Pilot: I pretended to be in love with ShoreLeave.
ShoreLeave: Oh! And I pretended I liked having sex with him every night.
Brock: Uh, geez, this place reeks. What's this guy doing in there?
ShoreLeave: The guy is Peter Schumpmaker. Lord knows what a schump is, but you can bet your bippy his ancestors made them. What he's doing is far worse than crafting fine shumps
Dr. Orpheus: What is...?
Brock: It's Doc's deformed twin brother - he absorbed in the womb but he's come back for revenge, but now they've made up, so...
Dr. Orpheus: 'kay...
Brock: Who do you think supplied the department with new cruisers last year?
Dr. Venture: My tax dollars, for one.
Hank: Santa Claus, for two!