Young Papa III: Fratello! Fratello!
Papa I: What is it?
Young Papa III: There's a monster under my bed and it's really ugly.
Young Papa II, on the bottom bunk: Fuck you.

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Young Papa III: Fratello! Fratello!
Papa I: What is it?
Young Papa III: There's a monster under my bed and it's really ugly.
Young Papa II, on the bottom bunk: Fuck you.

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Papa III: “Are you amab or afab?” Why? You trying to figure out what type of holes I got? You trying to bang?
Papa II: I wish my brother would stop saying things like this! Nobody wants you!
Papa III: I don't think we can mansplain, manipulate or malewife our way out of it this time.
Papa II: Manslaughter it is, then.
Sister Imperator: If you care about your brother, you'll get in this car. Papa Emeritus II: Which brother? Sister Imperator: Papa Emeritus III. Papa Emeritus II: [walks away slowly]
A message from Papa Emeritus II

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Papa II: Why do people always ask me if I'm okay when I'm lying on the floor? Yes I'm okay. I'm living my best life. Can't a man just lie on the floor and stare blankly at the ceiling, listening to 1970s Swedish pop sensation ABBA sing Waterloo? I'm having me time.
Young Papa III: I guess the only downside to turning 18 is that you're no longer the dancing queen, young and sweet, only 17.
Young Papa II: You fool. That was when my reign began.
Papa II and Papa III, drunk, eating oranges
Papa III: It's crazy how nature pre-sliced oranges. It's like she wants us to eat them.
Papa II: But why would she make the inside so sweet and the outside so tough and bitter?
Papa III: Sort of like you.
Papa II: Fuck...am I an orange?
Papa I: Are you two drunk right now?
Papa III: Yeah, but it's still crazy about the oranges, right?
Papa II, tears streaming down his face: Fratello...I'm an orange.