Steve Smith: [talking about the cool things a video game alien can do] Oh... um... sorry, Roger
Roger the Alien: No, no, you said it. It's out in the open. We have to live with it now.
Steve Smith: Seriously, can't you do *anything*?
Roger the Alien: I can get my feelings hurt and throw a world-class hissy fit!
Newspaper Headline: Missing Twins Found in Gingerbread House
Steve Smith: I'm running away. It's the only way I can escape those psycho Rangers.
Roger the Alien: Oh! Oh, take me with you. Maybe my special power is keeping you from getting molested at the bus station. Maybe.
Francine Smith: I was finally making friends, Stan. How could you ruin my party?
Stan Smith: It was easy. I just yelled "Terrorist!" and everyone ran away. Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were asking, how did I ruin your party? And I'm like, you were there, baby. You had a front row seat.
[Stan lectures Steve on what to do if he is compromised, which will result in Stan bombing his location]
Stan Smith: C'mon, sport, there are plenty of kids in heaven to play with. Your cousin Billy, or that little girl from "Poltergeist." She must be at least 16 by now, you could totally hit that!
Stan Smith: Well, I think I'm fully strapped.
Klaus: There might be some room left in the vast wasteland between your testicles and anus, hmm?
Stan Smith: Nope, occupado.
[pulls out a spiked ball and chain]
Linda: [holds up glass] To new friends.
Francine Smith: You guys, I have a confession to make. This wasn't a theme party. I was just covering for Stan.
Bob: Sweetheart, we know. We've encountered people like him before.
Francine Smith: You have?!
Bob: Oh, sure. But I gotta say, even though Stan's a suspicious, xenophobic vigilante, he's still a hundred times better than our last neighbors.
Bob: They were black.
Francine Smith: Stan, let them out. This isn't funny.
Stan Smith: Oh, oh, Linda's making a run for the gate!
[Electrified noise, Linda screams]
Stan Smith: Come on, Francine. You can't tell me that's not funny.
[on the roof, speaking through a megaphone]
Stan Smith: Until you give the exact details of your next attack, I'm depriving you of sleep.
Linda: It's two in the afternoon.
Stan Smith: No sleep! That's right. Starting to get uncomfortable, isn't it? Sure would be nice to feel the gentle embrace of the sandman's spell as he warbles his sweet... lilting... lullaby...
[snores, falls off roof]
Stan Smith: So, what part of Islam do you hail from?
Bob: Well, my parents were from Iran, but I was born in Cleveland.
Stan Smith: Really? You know, we also have a Cleveland here in America. And it'd be just super if you didn't blow it up.
Francine Smith: So, the block party starts at 3:00pm and goes 'till question mark. It's pot luck, so bring whatever you want.
Stan Smith: But not smallpox.
Stan Smith: Kidding. Kind of joking, but not really.
Stan Smith: [as his car runs out of gas] Stupid gas-guzzler...that I as an American have every right to drive.
Francine Smith: Say hi to Betty for me!
Tuttle: Oh, I would, but she died six months ago. The big C.
Francine Smith: Cancer?
Tuttle: No, the big letter C from the Coca-Cola sign. Fell right on top of her.
Stanley Smith: Son, if you ever get captured by any terrorists in the neighborhood and end up on al-Jazeera, just blink you location in Morse code. I'll have a bomb dropped on your location immediately.
Steve Smith: But, Dad, then I'd get killed too.
Stanley Smith: Ah, come on son, there are plenty of kids to play with in heaven. Your cousin Billy. That little girl from Poltergeist. She must be about 16 by now, you could totally tap that.
Klaus: [referring to Roger the Alien] I wish he'd get sick like ET.
Stanley Smith: Francine, why did you pull a gun on me if you didn't want to have sex?
Stanley Smith: Francine, this happens every time! First you pull out a gun and threaten to shoot me. Then I pull out *my* gun. Eventually, your arm gets tired, you leave, and we have passionate "nobody-got-shot" sex.