Sue: Brad! Brad! The yearbooks are in!
Brad: I know, I know! Gimme, gimme, gimme.
Sue: Here! Three years of bad pictures, and it took me till senior year to finally make sure I got a good one. Ah! Yes! In her first decent picture in four years of high school, it's... Ana Hajarajanaan? Why is the name under my first good picture Ana Hajarajanaan?
Brad: Ugh.

Frankie: [v.o.] And that's how a little mnemonic device like "news" ballooned into...
Sue: "NEWSBENJIVERTS." My brother came up with "NEWS," but I came up with "BENJIVERTS."
Samantha: Now our third and final candidate, Sue Hickey.
Frankie: [v.o.] That's when Sue introduced the world to "NEWSBENJIVERTS." B for "blink less"...
Sue: Happy Thursday, fellow shuckers.
Frankie: [v.o.] E for "enunciate"...
Sue: The flooded auditorium-uh will be drain-uh-d in time for the spring muh-usical.
Frankie: [v.o.] N for "nodding"...
Sue: And kudos to the girls soccer team for defeating the other team from...
Frankie: [v.o.] And who could forget V for "very big gestures"?
Sue: I'm Sue Heck, and that's what the Heck's go... [knocks over glass of water and microphone] On.
Samantha: Cut to black! Cut to black!

Mrs. Tompkins: So... I'm guessing you know why you're here.
Frankie: We think we have a pretty good idea.
Mrs. Tompkins: Right. It's about Brick's tic.
Mike: Yep. Three weeks.
Mrs. Tompkins: I know. That's why I'm so concerned.
Frankie: You're concerned he hasn't whispered in three weeks?
Mrs. Tompkins: Oh, no. I'm not talking about the whispering, I'm talking about the new tic. I'm sure you two have noticed.
[flashback to Frankie, Mike and Brick in the kitchen at breakfast:]
Brick: Whoop.
[flashback to Brick reading on the couch as Frankie and Mike inspect the smoke alarm in the kitchen:]
Brick: Whoop.
Frankie: I don't think we've ever changed the batteries.
[flashback to the family eating dinner at the dining room table:]
Brick: Whoop. [everyone checks their cellphone]

Dr. Fulton: And the whooping. Yeah, that... [laughs] That's a fresh one, even for me. Now he could be whooping for any number of reasons. I mean, it could be the sign of a serious mental illness... or something simple. We just don't know. But my gut is telling me that what we're dealing with here is an attachment disorder.
Frankie: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You're elevating his quirk to a disorder now?
Dr. Fulton: No worries, Mom and Dad. We've got a lot of weapons in our arsenal to try and treat this.
Frankie: Drugs? You wanna put him on drugs?
Dr. Fulton: Whoa! [laughs] Easy, Mom. We're not allowed to go there first anymore. No, I think we can start Brick with something as simple as a pet.
Frankie: A pet? Oh, no. He kills pets.
Dr. Fulton: Oh. [writes down]
Frankie: But not on purpose. Mostly accidental. It's neglect, really. And he feels bad. I mean, he doesn't cry. Not like a serial killer. I know they don't cry, either. They don't have any empathy for their victims. Like Brick, but he-
Dr. Fulton: Okay. That's noted.

Frankie: [v.o.] So after agreeing we were smarter than a therapist, Mike and I went about fixing Brick's tic in the way only loving parents can do.
Brick: Whoop.
Frankie: Knock it off.
[later, as Brick and Mike sit at the table:]
Brick: Whoop. [Mike honks horn] Whoop. [Mike honks horn] Whoop. [Mike honks horn]
[later, Frankie is cleaning and Brick grabs a drink from the fridge:]
Brick: Whoop.
Frankie: Stop it! [sprays Brick with water] Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it!