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Emerson: Contacted the company that makes these doors under false pretenses. They gave me a sample ID badge which I digitally altered using the magnetic code that matches the serial number of this machine. Is that cheap?
Chuck: (holds up an ID badge as well) I don't know. Is this? I gave the security guard a hug goodbye. My upper body distracted him while these things I call "hands" took this off his belt.

Chuck: I don't know anything about you since you were nine.
Ned: Well, it's pretty much I bake pies and wake the dead. I live a very sheltered life.

And although he couldn't hear her, Ned suddenly wanted to tell her everything. Pet peeves and favorite foods, his fears, his dreams, and all the pure joy she had brought into his life.


Emerson: (panicking) Can't this car go any faster?!
Chuck: Some car of the future this is!
Ned: I thought cars of the future were supposed to fly! What the hell happened to flying cars

Ned: Can you help us get out of these body bags?
Olive: Sure.

Dead people don't talk... usually.


You love secrets. You wanna marry secrets and have little half-secret, half-human babies.


Chuck: Shotgun!
Ned: Chuck!
Chuck: I hate the back.
Ned: Dead. Again. Forever.

If I wanted to mingle with a bunch of geeks wearing leotards, I'd have stayed in art school.


What's great about knowing? When you lift up a rock, do you find whipped cream? No, you find bugs. I say "no" to knowing.


While Olive contemplated how much she appreciated Digby paying attention to her when the Pie Maker would not - and Digby contemplated how much he liked salt - the Pie Maker contemplated what the punishment for breaking and entering would be with no prior convictions.


One of these dummies is not like the others.

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