Cliff: It's obvious, isn't it? My father didn't trust me, so he gave me the slip out of the bathroom window. Guess I'll just go home.
Carla: Well, you're ruling out the other possibility.
Cliff: What other possibility?
Carla: Well, it's a little-known fact, but more and more people have been going into men's rooms and vaporizing. I mean, just disappearing into thin air. It's an unexplained phenomenon.
Norm: It's kind of like the Bermuda Triangle.
Carla: That's right.
Cliff: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get serious, will you.
Carla: Have it your way.
Cliff: Well, you know, however, this much is true, you know. There's been recent sightings of human beings being shot up into the underbelly of alien spacecraft. You know, and speaking of the Bermuda Triangle, it's not technically a triangle.
Woody: It's not?
Cliff: Heck, no! It's a trapezedo-rhomboid. They're perfect for attracting Martian spacecraft.

Norm: [enters] Evening, everybody.
All: Norm!
Diane: Norman.
Woody: What's your pleasure, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Boxer shorts and loose shoes, but I'll settle for a beer.

Diane: Sam, two Beefeater martinis, please. [Sam hums] Well, you're just bubbling with energy. Oh, you must've mastered the childproof cap on your Flintstones vitamins.