Principal Ball: The Winter Gourd Fest is back on and Adam's getting replaced.
Mr. Glascott: Yes! It's Glascott-o-clock!
Principal Ball: Andrea, you're up.
Mr. Glascott: On deck and ready to go.

Mr. Glascott: Major school emergency. The children refuse to musically honor the mighty gourd.
Beverly: John, what are you saying?
Mr. Glascott: I'm saying that Adam inspired them with his adult robot tale, and they won't perform anything else.
Adam: Really?
Mr. Glascott: You need to get down there and put on a show.
Adam: Uh... I don't know.
Beverly: I do. Adam, you're re-hired.

Helen: I think old James Dean likes blondie.
Mr. Glascott: Obviously, Helen. Thanks for coming to.

Beverly: No! Motorcycles are not safe.
Mr. Perott: A little danger can be a thrill, Bev.
Beverly: How can I be sure not to fall off?
Mr. Perott: Just wrap your arms around me. And hold on tight.
Mr. Glascott: Frisky business. [motorcycle engine revs] What is happening?
Helen: She is really pressed against him.
Mr. Glascott: I see that, Helen!

Mr. Glascott: Hello! I heard the chittering of conversation. Is your mom here?
Barry: She's out speed walking, which is just what I call walking.
Mr. Glascott: My losing streak continues. My Science-a-bration is ruined.
Barry: Your what?
Mr. Glascott: It's my week-long scholastic party honoring the wonders of science. And this year, I finally landed Slim Goodbody.
Barry: Noice! Who's that?

Mr. Glascott: What an inspired performance by the dancing molar! [covers microphone] Be better, Alan.

Virginia Kremp: It's interesting.
Matt: So interesting.
Mr. Glascott: I concur on the interesting.
Essie Karp: Well, I have a question. Why was it so filthy?
Pop-Pop: Filthy?
Mr. Glascott: You know, all the very explicit and unrelenting sexual imagery.
Pop-Pop: Well, aliens, they really get after it.
Matt: It seems they do nothing else. Is Earth just one big bed to them?
Pop-Pop: Well, it's a foxy planet. You gotta admit it. See, our sun cooks their loins and puts them into a frenzy.
Mr. Glascott: No, no, no. I remember those 30 pages, but the plot just seems to fall away.

Mr. Glascott: What happened to the astronauts from the beginning?
Pop-Pop: They died from Bazoomba-Boomba.
Adam: And Bazoomba-Boomba is?
Pop-Pop: Rigorous Martian love.
Mr. Glascott: Mm.
Pop-Pop: Our carbon-based bodies couldn't take the friction.
Virginia Kremp: Interesting.
Matt: So interesting.
Mr. Glascott: I love how interesting it is.

Pop-Pop: And your action picture? It's boring.
Mr. Glascott: As in "boring into your skull with excitement"?
Pop-Pop: As in crappy.