Frylock: Press this button and an infrared privacy curtain is activated, rendering you virtually invisible.
Carl: Oh, okay! So you know, so sort of like that movie, Predator ... only instead of hunting people, he's like, crapping.
Meatwad: Shoot, that boy's gonna poop himself inside out. He's gonna lift right off the ground. It'll be like the Hulk, ripping out the back of his pants.
Frylock: Shut up, Meatwad.
Meatwad: Okay. But it's gonna smell like a paper mill. You know that, don't you?
Shake: We don't need a toilet! The pile of clothes in the hallway has worked fine for us for years, and it will continue to work.
Meatwad: I don't know whose clothes that is, Somebody ain't wearing that again, I tell you that.
Frylock: Do you realize that every time someone flushes --
Shake: Yes, I know. Three gallons. Three gallons! Whoop dee damn doo!
Meatwad: Whoop dee damn doo-doo.
Shake: Shut up. I said that first 'til you copied me.
Meatwad: You did not.
Shake: I did, too! ... Doo. Too-doo. There, I did it again! I'm pretty good.
Frylock: Shut up, you're ruining my moment!
Shake: Yeah. Your moment. His movement. I got a book coming out!
Frylock: 'Dr. Frylock, while we appreciate your interest in body construction research, we cannot legally send you a "butt load" of organs, regardless on whether we plan on using them.'
Shake: I didn't say "buttload". I said "ass load". Bureaucrats! To think that I was polite with these people, that's the worst part.
Meatwad: Hey, y'all, check me out! I'm Shaun Cassidy.
Frylock: Put those back, they're not for you!
Shake: Yeah, that's a good one. What the hell are you talking about?
Meatwad: When he was a Hardy Boy, and, you know, they was private eyes. Plus, he had like, ten eyes in his head.
Shake: ... Okay. I'll give it to you.
Frylock: That's not an F-bomb!
Meatwad: Fudge you.