Mr. Glascott: Howdy, neighbor.
Beverly: What time is it?
Mr. Glascott: It is 6:31 in the glorious morning. One minute after neighborhoods across the globe officially open for biz.
Beverly: It's barely light outside.
Mr. Glascott: You know, I used to live overlooking a limestone quarry. That giant, watery pit held so many mysteries. And, for some reason, a Safeway shopping cart.
Beverly: The street lights are still on.
Mr. Glascott: I made strudel. Be careful cutting it. My first rent check is baked inside.
Beverly: That's fun, I guess.
Mr. Glascott: Oh, it was an accident. You know what? Let's plate it before the caramel smudges the ink.

Erica: Do you really have to lay there like that, with your butt hovering in the air?
Barry: Well, ever since you overinflated my medical pillow, my options for comfort are limited.
Erica: [sighs] I never thought I would miss looking at your face.
Barry: And there's a new issue. The pain is now an itch. [groans] An itch like no other.
Erica: You heard the doctor. Scratching will prolong the healing, and nobody wants that.
Barry: Just give me a slotted spoon? A balloon whisk? A seafood fork? A grapefruit spoon? A melon baller? One of those little things you hold corn with? Anything!
Erica: Ew! You're a little too familiar with the scratching power of our silverware.

Adam: What are you doing?
Barry: Studying my nemesis. Leaves.
Adam: Well, as always... What?
Barry: For future emergencies, I need to be able to tell which are poisonous and which are not. You see, poison ivy is, uh... Dammit! You distracted me!
Adam: Don't worry, I can tell. Just scoop them up and hand them to me. Come on, not like that. You got to mix 'em up first. Really shuffle 'em good.
Barry: That makes sense.
Adam: Uhp, you got something on your face. [rubs face]
Barry: Is it off?
Adam: Nope, other side.
Barry: [rubs other side] How 'bout now?
Adam: That's perfect, my man. [chuckles] I'll go get the ointment.
Barry: Damn it!