— Oh, thank God!
— Call me Dean.
Come on man. I know Sam, ok? Better than anyone. He's got more of a conscience than i do. I mean the guy feels guilty searching the internet for porn.
— Where's our father, Meg?
— You didn't ask very nice.
— Where's our father, bitch?
— It appeared before me and I just... this feeling washed over me. Like peace. Like grace.
— Okay, ecstasy boy. Maybe we’ll get you some glow sticks and a nice Dr. Seuss hat.
— No way. That's my Division Championship soccer trophy! I can't believe he kept this.
— Yeah, it's probably the closest you ever came to being a boy.
— Dude, all right, I'll admit, we've gone pretty ghetto with spellwork before, but this takes the cake! I mean, a Spongebob placemat instead of an altar cloth?!
— We'll just put it Spongebob-side down.
— Yeah, maybe. Question is, why bugs? And why now?
— That's two questions.
What’s going on with you, Sam? Hm? ‘Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people — that sounds more like me than you.