Norm: [enters] Morning, Sammy.
Sam: Norm. What brings you in this time of day?
Norm: Same thing that always does.
Sam: A little early for a beer, isn't it?
Norm: So float a cornflake in it.
Sam: Beer it is.

Sam: Seriously, how come you're here this early?
Norm: Ah, my supervisor got sick. Had to go home early. So he left me in charge of the office. So I closed it. Hey, you know, I thought I'd stop by, have a few beers and figure out what to do with the day. After all, I have 24 golden hours to spend on Norm Peterson. Any suggestions?
Sam: If it was me, I'd be out there sailing. Perfect weather, the waters won't be crowded.
Norm: I get seasick, though. I don't know.
Sam: Well, you can always go to the driving range and work on your slice.
Norm: No, I don't have my clubs with me.
Sam: Well, how about checking out that gym you've been putting off joining?
Norm: I'm not in the mood for sweat, you know.
Sam: Well, you could set up that workshop in your garage.
Norm: I'd have to clean it all out first. It's a mess.
Sam: Well, Norm, you could sit here all day shooting down my ideas and drinking beer.
Norm: Wait a minute. I think we're onto something here, huh? What do you say you put a head here on this thing, and let's hear some more of those suggestions.
Sam: Let's see, how about skydiving?
Norm: Nah, mess up my hair.

Norm: What happened?
Carla: It's her. It's the Evil One.
Sam: Where? What?
Carla: Over there at table five.
Cliff: Oh, the little old lady?
Carla: Drusilla Dimeglio. She was the principal at St. Clete's School for Wayward Girls. We all hated her guts. She used to do these mean, spiteful things to us. Oh, I swore vengeance on her, but she retired before I could do anything. Now, twenty years later, there she is.
Sam: It's been twenty years. Are you sure it's her?
Carla: Well, there's one way to make absolutely sure, Sam. She has my teeth mark on her left ankle.