Doctor: Excuse me. Mrs. Funke.
Lucille: Oh, this guy again.
Michael: How is he, Doctor?
Doctor: It, uh, looks like he's dead.
Lucille: Oh, my God!
Gob: Oh, little guy! The tears aren't coming! The tears just aren't coming!
Michael: Uh, just to be clear... Looks like he's dead, or he is dead?
Doctor: It just looks like he's dead. He's got, like, blue paint on him or something, but he's going to be fine.
Gob: What is wrong with you?
Lindsay: What a [bleep] doctor!
Doctor: I'll let you celebrate privately.
Lucille: Hey, we want this comped!