Beverly: Good evening, everyone. I'm Madame Topaz, an elegant Parisian with impeccable class and dignity. Murray, put your [bleep] pants on!

Mr. Glascott: Hello, new friends. I'm John Glascott. I hate to come empty-handed, so please enjoy these homemade crab cakes.
Beverly: Fun!
Mr. Glascott: The secret is to only use claw. [chuckles]

Adam: You invited my guidance counselor?
Beverly: I ran into him at the market. He saw all the alcohol in my basket and asked if we were having a party.
Adam: So? Tell him you're an alcoholic! He'd believe it with kids like us!

Lou Schwartz: Sorry to interrupt, Boy Butler, but I'm not familiar with murder-mystery parties. What the hell is all this?
Adam: We would like all our guests to please refer to their dossiers.
Lou Schwartz: "Captain Eggnog. A war profiteer with a monocle and pipe." I-I didn't have any of that stuff.
Mr. Glascott: I'm Mr. Pistachio, a career diplomat who should wear a green blazer if you have it." [chuckles] Well, lucky for you, this is one of nine.
Dolores: I'm Miss Cabernet, "a bombshell babe in a yowza dress." [chuckles] How flattering.
Bill Lewis: And accurate. Wait. Adam, did you write that?
Adam: Assigned randomly.
Linda Schwartz: I'm Linda the housekeeper. And that's my name. And I am "foreign"? That's it?
Adam: To the dining room!

Pops: I want to thank you for this lovely spread of loose jelly beans and sink water.
Erica: Hey, you're my number-one grandpa. And I need your help choosing a college major.
Pops: Honey, I get it. It's a big decision. Maybe art history?
Erica: Damn it! Why was that so easy for stupid Barry? He gets to be a doctor who makes a crap-ton of money and drives a convertible with vanity plates that say "Dr. Big Tasty."
Pops: You shouldn't compare yourself to Barry. You two are very different!
Erica: Yeah, he's gonna live in an apartment over the park while I'm stuck in an equally luxurious place because my husband's a doctor, but it's not the same.
Pops: Look, hon, you can do anything you want if you put your mind to it. Maybe art history?
Erica: You're right. I could totally be a doctor, too.
Pops: But until this moment, you never once expressed an interest in medicine.
Erica: Oh, thank you, Pops.
Pops: It might be time to stop emotionally investing in my grandchildren.

Erica: Surprise, I'm gonna be a doctor, too.
Barry: What? No, you're not. There's only one Dr. Goldberg in this class and on the planet.
Erica: Oh, you really don't have a grasp of who makes up the medical community. But you should be happy. We're going on this journey together!
Barry: You're not a doctor! At best, you're one of those pharmaceutical reps who pushes allergy meds in a pencil skirt!
Erica: Whatever. This isn't about you anyway. It's about me helping gross, sick people and having a dope-ass beeper.
Barry: But what kind of doctor would you even be?
Erica: Obviously not the kind that deals with your downstairs or backside business. And nothing with the mouth or ears. And, of course, the middle is off the table.
Barry: That's the entire body.
Erica: I didn't rule out shins. I'll be a "shin-ologist." Look at me go.

Professor Wilma Howell: Welcome to human anatomy. Look around. Half of you will fail, a quarter will go on to med school, and one will kill a man through gross malpractice.
Barry: She's talking about you.
Erica: Hey, malpractice makes "malperfect."

Adult Adam: [v.o.] It was game on between Erica and Barry. Meanwhile, our murder-mystery party was taking off.
Dolores: Oh, oh, oh. That's crab, Billy. You're highly allergic.
Bill Lewis: Blazes. I love that sweet sea meat, but I love breathing more. Good catch, babe.
Dolores: One clam almost ruined our whole trip to Myrtle Beach. That was a nasty rash.

Mr. Glascott: Oh, I've been there. [chuckles] Myrtle Beach, not the rash business. I love poppin' off my top. Oh. Salty air on my flesh while I proudly strut down the boardwalk. [chuckles] Again, I'm John.

Virginia Kremp: Ooh, try my mushroom caps, Bill. Try 'em. No seafood.
Beverly: And if you're allergic to flavor, you're still okay.