Ivan: *laying on a pentagram* Here we go. Rock and roll, buckaroo!
Fyodor: Ain’t that like a couple of funny brothers…destroying their father’s legacy.
Mitya: *attempts to lure Bigfoot out of the woods with a beer*
Lise, of Madame Khokhlakov: She’s weak sauce, bro.
Grigori Vasilievich, to Marfa Ignatievna: Honey, we gotta jazz it. I’m not gonna throw out this axe so we better jazz it.
Alyosha: *walking through a dark hallway*
Mitya: *makes weird grunt from around the corner*
Alyosha: *screams* Oh God!
Mitya: Hey, man, calm down.
Smerdyakov: What if you call out for me down there, I don’t respond and when you find me I’m just standing in the corner?
Ivan: I’m gonna close the door and leave.
Smerdyakov: You’re gonna- You would just leave me!?
Ivan: Friends murder each other all the time, you know. It happens. That’s the way of the world.
Alyosha: *looks around uneasily*
Mitya: I gotta…I gotta make some calls.
Alyosha, very softly: choo choo pickle pie
Rakitin: *wheeze* choo choo pickle pie what the f-?
Alyosha: I don’t know. I’m just thinking of a funny thing a ghost could say.
Alyosha: I mean they could’ve been in there telling ghost stories- you know how kids do- pillow talk, stuff like that.
Grushenka: That’s not what pillow talk means I don’t think.
Alyosha, distressed: Where’s my holy water?
Ivan, laughing: Where’s my holy water?
Katya: Who are you pointing to?
Mitya: All the Karamazovs out there.
Katya: I hate you.
