“That’s not food, this is a war crime.”

“Are you getting plump?”

“Is plumpin even a verb?”

“It looks like a failed grave robbery.”

“It’s 10 pm and I’m boiling prunes in my kitchen.”

“No eggs, no milk, no butter, no joy, there’s no sugar either.”

“Why do dead people like dates so much?”

“Easy does it, wouldn’t want to ruin a disaster.”

“It tastes like a boot! Like a size ten boot!”

“Remember kids, the main ingredient in pie pastry is self doubt.”

“Here comes the tears, like my mom after a glass of wine.”

“On this episode of dead white people.”

“Who’s mooing now!”

“I didn’t know tuberculosis had a color scheme.”

“Add one egg of lard. What are you feeding your chickens?”

“I need nut instructions.”

“Smells deceased.”

“Tastes damp.”

“Are you still here? Dammit.”

“Add three gills of water. Was this recipe written by a fish?”

“It finished a bit early, like my ex.”

“No man this Valentine's day? No problem!”

“You’re out of pocket.”

“Insert? Insert what?”

“Are you nine inches yet? Said fifteen year old me.”

“Disgusting wasn’t enough for you?”

“Tomato spice, if pumpkin spice got hit by a bus.”

“Butter go brrrrrrrrr.”

“Not bad dead people.”

“You’re gonna want a deep nine inch, don’t we all.”

“Sweetie none of this is my liking.”

“Don’t come back. It came back.”

“It’s a little late in the century for war crimes.”

“Have you lost the plot?”

“This ain’t food honey, this is a bioweapon.”

“Sweet, bitter and meaty, like my ex.”

“Alright we got two fruitcakes here.”

Tina Chen: Morning!

Connor: The slightly older.

Chris Miller: -head in hands- Please stop talking.

Connor: The slightly older still.

Gavin Reed: -unintelligible mumbling-

Connor: -gestures to Hank- And they very very very old. He's unconscious and therefore unresponsive. Observe. Hanky Spank! Hanky Panky! I'm licking blood!. See.

Hank: What? That thing is not my son.

Fowler: Surely he is. What other living thing could stand to be around you?

Gavin: I thought he was your kid too, I just thought we weren’t supposed to say anything about it.

Hank: Oh, for- alright, if you thought that Connor was my kid, raise your hand.

(everyone raises their hand)

Hank: …Connor, put your hand down.

RK800-60: How dare you ask such a personal question?! I'm not telling you!

Connor: -points to RK800-60-

RK900: Punch you? In the face?

Gavin: Yeah punch me, did you not hear me?