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By Paul Dailly

Ian: Sold my meth yet? Carl: I can’t move it all at once. Liam: Where’s my meth? Fiona: You don’t get any.

By Paul Dailly

Nessa: Are you the new slum lord? Fiona: Uh, New owner.

By Paul Dailly

Fiona: What can you give me for $500 or less? Funeral Director: A cardboard refrigerator box and a gallon of gasoline in our parking lot…

By Paul Dailly

Debbie: What the hell is going on, Frank? Frank: Your mother told me she had something valuable for you kids, but that it might be…

By Paul Dailly

Fiona: Get out of my kitchen! Lip: My sentiments exactly.

By Paul Dailly

Frank: All I had to do was pull out and you would have never been born. Fiona: You were too high to pull out.