Twenty years? It's no wonder I'm so hungry. Do you have anything to eat?

Some people swear by hair of the dog, but I prefer nature's sponge, the egg.

Walter: Apparently this universe has not discovered memory foam.
Fauxlivia: You know, Walter, you can stay at my place tonight. I have a spare room.
Walter: Wonderful. And I shall refrain from sleeping naked.
Fauxlivia: Good to know.

Domesticated badgers? Really? As pets?

On purpose? Anything's possible. Even Santa Claus.

Ah! My escort is here. And by escort, I mean prostitute.

Walter: Feel it Peter.
Peter: Oh really, can I?
Walter: He's dead, Peter, you can't hurt him.
Peter: Not really what I was concerned about.

You mean assuming that creating a human flying porcupine hybrid was not his end game.

I know what you're thinking. Wouldn't it be easier to just eat people?

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