Erica: [knock on door] Oh, God! Who now?
Mr. Glascott: It's your friendly neighbor, John Glascott. Do you have a moment?
Erica: We most certainly don't!
Mr. Glascott: I'm just here to beseech you to close your curtains. I noticed that you set the stage for a boudoir dalliance, and I can see everything.
Geoff: I guess my first recommendation would be to close your curtains.
Mr. Glascott: I have delicate Venetian blinds. You would know that if you ever accepted any of my multiple invitations for coffee and Battleship.

Adult Adam: [v.o.] Meanwhile, my writers' group had filled our empty pages with words.
Mr. Glascott: "Madam President says, 'For a Secret Service agent, you talk too much. 'Now, put down that bazooka and kiss me.'"
Essie Karp: Oh!
Virginia Kremp: Wow.
Matt: Super fun, Mr. Glascott. Loved it.
Mr. Glascott: Thank you, Matt Bradley. It felt good to get it down to a lean 207 pages.

Adam: Okay, Mrs. Kremp, you're up.
Virginia Kremp: Well, I couldn't stop thinking about Ben's erotic tale, so I thought I would try my hand at the steamy genre myself.
Pop-Pop: Smoke break.
Virginia Kremp: Oh. Okay.
Essie Karp: There's more space now, if you want to slide over.
Matt: I'm good. This is the last time I'm attending.
Virginia Kremp: [clears throat] "Charlene had known Roderick since they shared a smile at summer camp. But everything changed the day he came to fix her sink. His fully-clothed body just inches from her fully-clothed body, he pressed his bare hand into hers. It was electric with respect and friendship." [silence]
Mr. Glascott: But what happened to the leaky sink?

Mr. Glascott: Also, FYI, I have a sourdough proofing at home.
Barry: Too bad! We're best friends, which means we do everything together. Now, shut up and gel.
Mr. Glascott: I have to admit, I am starting to feel a real closeness.
Barry: See? Odd Mr. Glascott gets it.

Barry: I can't go out there.
Mr. Glascott: What are you talking about? You're our closer. We gotta have a closer. Or I could just end it.

Eric: My grandfather said you might have a spot open for me.
Mr. Glascott: Well, seeing as I don't care at all, yes. [on stage] One of the Goldbergs.

Mr. Glascott: Oh, hell no. This is the teacher's lounge. This place is sacred. So help me God, you are in so much trouble. Ooh, someone took a tab from my flyer for guitar lessons. Wow. You are so lucky this day has turned around for me. Oh no, wait a minute. I forgot. I did it myself to get the ball rolling. Damn it. You are in so much trouble again.

Mr. Glascott: Look, Erica, these boys care about you. We all do, which is why we wrote letters to make this easier to say. I'll start. "Dearest Erica, I miss your singing."
Beverly: That's it?
Mr. Glascott: Yeah, I don't really know her. Look, I manage 600 kids, okay?

Mr. Glascott: Well, well. God gives you one Goldberg and counters it with another.

Mr. Glascott: Deal. Here's your informational binder and your therapy puppet. This is usually for smaller kids, but the burners like it, too.