Oh farts, oh farts, oh farts, oh farts...

Mike

I miss you, Mike. You're such a good little sister.

Young Phil

You know what else has a permanent hole in it? Your head! Get it together. You can't give up. You just came from outer space, you freakin' fart-face. Now wake up!

Young Phil

So, Pat, you always been a seamen? By that I mean a sailor, not, you know, sperm.

Mike

You know, sometimes I'll anchor offshore at night. Big cities -- Miami, New York, New Orleans. Not one light. Pitch black. Pitch black.

Pat

Ohhh, there's a very good chance he's going to kill and eat me.

Mike [to himself]

Mike: I was always a chocolate banana man, myself.
Pat: Wow, Sigmund Freud, he'd have a field day with you, boy.
Mike: I bet he would.
Pat: 'Cuz, the banana is the rough shape of the male anatomy.
Mike: No, yeah, I got all that. Yeah. Made that connection.
Pat: And chocolate on it? On a banana?
Mike: No, I got that one, too. No, it was -- The joke was good as it was, man. Didn't need all that.

Pat: One time, I saw a bag of bones wearing a bikini.
Mike: I'm so sorry, that must have been awful.
Pat: Well, I ain't gonna lie to you, sight of a bikini still does it for me. Skin or no.
Mike: Yeah, I'm more of a skin guy, myself.
Pat: Different strokes.

Young Phil: You beefed it so hard.
Mike: YOU beefed it!

Oh Jesus, you laid in something. It's like, virus.

Pat

Mike: "RIP Spaceman. Cause of death: The 'goverment.'" Almost got it right.