Adrian Monk: Ambrose! Ambrose, don't eat the candy!
Ambrose Monk: I paid for it.
Adrian Monk: No, spit it out. Spit it out. It could be poisoned.
Ambrose Monk: What?
Adrian Monk: That's what this whole thing has been about. It's been spiked with tetrachlorodrine. Is there a Neptune bar in here?
Ambrose Monk: Not anymore there isn't.
Adrian Monk: Oh, my God! Natalie, call 911.
Natalie: My god!
Ambrose Monk: Thought it tasted funny. Tetrachlorodrine?
Adrian Monk: The guy down the street was trying to kill his wife.
Ambrose Monk: It's too late.
Adrian Monk: Don't say that, don't say that. Just get up, get up now! Natalie, help me.
Ambrose Monk: Adrian. Adrian. Tetrachlorodrine is a synthetic insecticide.
Adrian Monk: Natalie, help me!
Ambrose Monk: There is no antidote. I'll be dead in five minutes.