- Sam: By the ruby-red goiters of Rube Goldberg! Look, Max, it's Santa's sleigh!
- Max: What an unexpected stroke of luck!
- Sam: Or is it, Max? Remember that time long ago when we jacked Santa's sleigh in an effort to save Christmas and drove it recklessly into a hellish vision of the future very much like the one we're standing in now?
- Max: I stopped paying attention halfway through that sentence.
- Stinky: [Whizzer is selling "Fruit of Forbidden Knowledge Cider"] Maybe you two can give me some advice. Mr. Whizzer's offer sounds *very* tempting...
- Max: Now it all comes down to your per-bottle cut. Don't accept anything less than ten percent for the first year, with quarterly renegotiations.
- Whizzer: Done!
- Sam: Shut up, Max!