Andy: Good morning, colleagues, co-workers, friends. Everyone feeling normal... today?
[aside to camera:]
Andy: Here's what happened. I left my sweat shirt at Ron's cabin. When I went back to get it, I found this in the trash: Positive pregnancy test. Side note: I accidentally threw my sweat shirt away. That's why I was digging through the trash. Found that too. Pretty cool. So if my science is correct, one of the five women who were at the cabin - Leslie, Donna, Ann, Mona-Lisa, or April - is pregnant! Can't be April. She would've told me. That leaves four suspects. There's only one man for this job: Burt Macklin, FBI. They said I was retired. They said I was too dangerous for the Pawnee Police Department. Turns out they were right... and wrong. Macklin, you son of a bitch.

Leslie Knope: Okay, Ben, Tom, you stay here, stay on Joan. Get that sticker. Chris, Andy, we're gonna stay on schedule, and we're gonna do some damage control.
Andy: All right. Everybody move! Move, move, move! This entire event is under federal jurisdiction.
[aside to camera:]
Andy: Unless he's in trouble, there's only one man for the job. Burt Macklin, FBI. You thought I was dead? [chuckles] So did the president's enemies.

Leslie Knope: Can I ask you a question? Are we the cutest couple you've ever seen?
Herman Lerpiss: Nope. Okay, you want the long needle or the short needle? Doesn't matter. Can't find a short needle. Long needle it is.
Leslie Knope: I have a big idea. I want a portrait of Eleanor Roosevelt, tastefully done, and then she has a very classy tattoo of Pat Benatar on her arm. And that's very subtle. No, scratch that. Scratch all that. Just write "Ben".

Tom: I don't want to be a failure again, Ron.
Ron Swanson: There's no shame in failure if you gave it an honest effort.
Tom: Easy for you to say. People are dying to give you money for your business, and you didn't even take it.
Ron Swanson: I didn't sell my chairs to that website because I value my name. The only thing that's important at the end of the day is what's on your gravestone... Your name.
Tom: My gravestone's gonna be a 60-inch touchscreen with a hologram of four mes singing End of the Road by Boyz II Men... But point taken.

Ben: Okay, Leslie's on her way in.
Ann: Is she okay? I left her, like, 30 voice mails, and her outgoing message is just her sobbing and burping and crazy laughing.
Ben: Yeah, you know what? She's actually handling it pretty well.
Leslie Knope: What's up, fartwads?
Chris: Are you eating a paunch burger?
Leslie Knope: Well, you know what? If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. I mean, I've been boycotting them ever since Pinewood and her goons started this whole recall business, but who cares now, right? What does it matter? Nothing matters anymore. Mmm. Oh, my God. This is good. This is really good. Why did I ever fight this?
Chris: Have you thought about a concession speech?
Leslie Knope: Oh, concession speech? Yeah, I wrote one. "Eat my shorts, Jabronies. Knope, out."
Ben: I thought it best to revisit the concession speech at a later time.