Cyrus Grissom: Say a word about this over the radio, and the next wings you see will belong to the flies buzzing over your rotting corpse!

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Garland Greene: He’s a fountain of misplaced rage. Name your cliche; Mother held him too much or not enough, last picked at kickball, late night sneaky uncle, whatever. Now he’s so angry that moments of levity actually cause him pain; give him headaches. Happiness, for that gentleman, hurts.

Baby O: What’s wrong with him?
Cameron Poe: My first guess would be… a lot.

Cameron Poe: There’s only two men I trust. One is me. The other is not you.

Cameron Poe: Put… the bunny… back… in the… box.

Garland: Define irony. Irony is a bunch of idiots singing a song on plane made famous by a band that died in a plane crash.