- Sam: What's the word on the street on Bosco's disappearance?
- Flint Paper: I've been making chin music with every pigeon in this burgh, but nobody's singing. Trail's dried up like a hobo's inner thigh.
- Max: How quickly the lingo goes from "colorful" to "gut-churning."
- Sam: Don't worry, Flint. We've got the skills to find whoever kidnapped Bosco.
- Max: I am still President, after all.
- Flint Paper: That may be. But are you a bad enough President to rescue the dude?
- Sam: Thanks for the chat, Stinky.
- Grandpa Stinky: Ah, just go away and die!
- Max: But most of all, thanks for just being you.
- Superball: I can answer any of your questions. Please don't touch anything. I'm Agent Superball.
- Max: Superball?
- Superball: It's a code name, sir. I'm a bouncer. Secret Service humor.
- Sam: In the future, we know a guy who looks just like you, with the same name!
- Superball: I've never seen you before. And there couldn't be another "Agent Superball", sir. The code names are unique.
- Max: Oh, "Superball". I get it!
- Sam: What's a gooey molasses tar cake?
- Grandpa Stinky: It's based on my ancient family recipe. But my proud, knuckle-dragging forefathers never thought to use my secret ingredient!
- Max: The blood of innocents!
- Sam: Nutmeg!
- Grandpa Stinky: You're both wrong! And you're both stupid!
- Sam: Hope you're not still holding a grudge about that tar cake business.
- Grandpa Stinky: I hold on to grudges like a man pushed overboard holds onto a ship's rail, clinging to it with bleeding fingers as the one thing saving him from a fatal plunge into the briny abyss.
- Max: [sniffs] We missed you, Stinky.