Tyler: Seriously, Dubbie, since you and I met, I’ve been writing like a song-nado.
Wendy: A tornado made of songs?
Tyler: You know it.
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Noser: If you saved his life using kung fu, he owes you what the Chinese sifus, the Japanese sensei, and the Jedi Knights refer to as a “life debt.”
Lacey: Every kung fu movie ever made can’t be wrong.
Noser: In terms the common man can understand: you own his ass.
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The Middleman: Son of a monkey’s uncle, Wendy Watson, which part of “this is an emergency” didn’t you get?
Lacey: Wendy, why is your boss standing outside our door wearing a hazmat suit?
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The Middleman: I’m not gonna lie to you, Dubbie. The tailgate party’s about to begin and we have a 10’ manure hoagie on our hands.
Wendy: What’s with the salty language?
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The Middleman: Voyager 2 is rocketing back home, and it’s coming in hotter than the devil’s wedding tackle.
Wendy: Whoa, that was filthy.
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Lacey: Put this on.
Tyler: That’s the tie that Wendy and I hang on the stairs when we’re…
Lacey: Like I don’t know.
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Wendy: Shouldn’t we be doing this in the lab or something?
Ida: So did they teach you about labs in art school?
Wendy: Yes, and they also taught me about the ancient art of color matching.
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Wendy: What if something happens to the box?
Ida: Well, then I’d say it’s been nice knowing ya, but it hasn’t.
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The Middleman: Would you like to do the honors, Wendy? It’s your chance to handle a piece of history, albeit through triple-strength prophylactics.
Wendy: No. And please don’t call them that.
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Wendy: Clothar? The war-torn galaxy that sent us Varsity Fanclub, five intergalactic dictators masquerading as a boy band and threatening to destroy Earth and everyone on it?
Ida: You remember that? And I thought you were on the happy leaf the entire time.
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Wendy:: Showers?
Ida:: Yeah. D-con protocol, honey. That’s what you get for being made of meat.
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The Middleman: There’s no such thing as modesty when life and death are at stake. Now, quit your grinning and drop your linen.
Wendy: I’m not grinning.
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The Middleman: I record a Code 47 for you during every mission. I’m as serious as a German film festival.
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The Middleman: (pre-recorded) Dubbie, if you’re seeing this, I have perished in the Underworld. Hopefully, we’ve stopped a thousand years of fire. If not, you might want look into getting an asbestos umbrella. Or a really good insurance policy.
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The Middleman: (pre-recorded) Dubbie, if you’re seeing this, we were unable to stop Varsity Fanclub, the Clotharian rebel fleet opened up a warphole, and their armada has reduced the planet Earth to a smoking cinder. I’m not sure how you managed to survive, but “Good for you!”
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Wendy: Ida. It’s me, the toker. Hophead McStoney. Pick up!
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Wendy: Can I say something?
The Middleman: That’s what the Founding Fathers fought for.
Wendy: What’s up with the vents? I mean we’re coming from an isolation chamber inside a secret headquarters built by an organization so covert we don’t even know who they are. Yet somehow we have vents large enough to crawl into with accessible registers everywhere. Was this building designed by TV writers or what?
The Middleman: No it wasn’t.
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The Middleman: Nanobots are strong, but you’re smarter. It’s like what Sensei Ping says about weasels.
Wendy: They can easily hide in a tube sock?
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