Donna: It's a thing we do.
Mabel: It's so sweet. I'm gonna leave before it gets any sweeter.

Mabel: I have a lot to figure out. My gut keeps telling me it's Dickie.
Oliver: I told you to stay away ... actually, I don't mind Dickie. Not in the cast. Yes, let's go with Dickie. Dickie did it!

Sometimes, a man's name actually starts with an R.

Mabel: Tobert is not my boyfriend.
Charles: Oh, so you do pronounce the final T. It's not like a French cheese tobert ... garcon ... s'il vous plait.

Charles: Spoiler alert!
Mabel: No, not the correct usage of that whatsoever.
Charles: Plot twist?
Mabel: Still not.

Tobert: Honestly, it's really tough to stay in contact with anybody when you're constantly travelling. Yeah, And if you don't have a partner to ground you, put down roots...
Mabel: Is that something you want?
Tobert: I think about it.

Oliver: It's been a while since I dipped my quill in a woman's ink pot. Any new rules I should know about?
Mabel: Please don't make me take the next one.

Mabel: Hey, Mama. Yeah, we're like uh .. yass and work and slay and yass, over here, like, yeah.
Kimber: Yes, Queens!

Con-granny-tulations!

Oliver: I'm gonna make it goddamnit. That's right, folks. It's a musical. Get ready for Death Rattle: Dazzle. What are you doing with that?
Mabel: The cops got it wrong. We think that Ben's killer is someone in your show, which means we're back!

If Greg had Ben's handkerchief then whose handkerchief was Ben holding when he died?

OK, secret, I think theater is kind of lame. People all dressed up in costumes no real person would ever wear, acting like nobody's sitting out there watching them say things no real person would ever say. But at least this piece of theater is a murder mystery. That, I can get my head around. And every murder mystery needs a victim.