Jerry: Unclog one toilet with me and tell me you don’t feel something, and I’ll never bring it up again.
Pierce: Fans of the product I suppose, in the wipes business we call them towel-heads.
Pierce: I’m gonna sue the pants off that lady.
Annie: I don’t think that’s a lady.
Troy: And why do you want his pants off?
Pierce: Shutup! I only wanted his pants off when I thought he was a lady.
Jeff: So you were attracted to him.
Pierce: The only thing I’m attracted to, is taking him to court and eating his ass alive.
Pierce: That’s not what I meant, stop putting gay things in my mouth.
Pierce: Gay-oh! Hey, what’s going on with you bitches?
Pierce: A man should not be judged by what he does with a fellow man’s butt.
Jeff: Here’s the kick.
Pierce: Plus, since that song came out Hawthorne Wipes sales went up seven percent.
Jeff: And it’s good.
Britta: Oh, I see what’s going on here. In my psych class, I’m learning about this thing called the Edible Complex. All men have to kill their fathers, so they can do something to their mothers. I haven’t finished the chapter.
Jeff: What’s that complex called where you’re wrong about everything?
Britta: Ha! Sarcasm from the man with the mother of all daddy issues.
Jeff: Whoa! Double diagnosis. Save some for all those poor real doctors.
Cornelius Hawthorne: Piercinald Anastasia Hawthorne!
Jerry: Hey, guys, I’m looking for Troy.
Abed: Oh he texted me. He said he’s fine but he couldn’t say where he is.
Shirley: Oh no, do you think he’s been kidnapped? Usually it’s one of the parents and almost always ends in murder-suicide.
Annie: Why are you smiling?
Cornelius Hawthorne: These are you friends Pierce? Minorities, Jewesses, and the unseasonably tan?
Britta: That is inappropriate. And maybe you’ll give that more weight since I’m white.
Cornelius Hawthorne: You’ve got a wide brow. What are you, Scandinavian?
Britta: Yeah, Swedish!
Cornelius Hawthorne: *spits* Swedish dogs. Your blood is tainted by generations of race-mixing with Laplanders, you’re basically Finns.
Shirley: Oh my goodness, he’s like the Abed of racism.
Britta: I can excuse racism, but I draw the line at animal cruelty.
Britta: This is so Edible.
Jeff: Britta, you are gonna make a terrible therapist. And if you need to talk to someone about that, I don’t recommend you.
Britta: Hmm, is that how your dad talked to your mom?
Jeff: No, that’s how he talked to your mom.
Britta: How does that make you feel?
Jeff: Shut up.
Vice Dean Layborne: Feel that?
Troy: Actually, I don’t feel-
Vice Dean Layborne: Precisely. Have you heard the expression “room temperature?”
Troy: Of course.
Vice Dean Layborne: This is the room. This is the room temperature room.
Troy: I can’t tell where the air ends and my skin begins. It’s incredible.
Vice Dean Layborne: That’s what we do, Troy,. Incredible, invisible, inbelievable things. We’re an unseen, unknown, unvincible fraternity of craftsmen. Graduates of this school are guaranteed lucrative employment for their lives. And I’m inviting you, to join us.
Troy: Will there always be paninis?
Vice Dean Layborne: This is one catch, Troy. Once you’re in, you’re in. Air-conditioning repair will be your life. A life of secrets you’ll be unable to share with outsiders. You will be an air-conditioning repairman, and nothing else, until the day you die.
Dean Pelton: Our air-conditioning system wasn’t built for this gay a party.
Troy: I’m gonna eat spaceman paninis with Black Hitler and there’s nothing you can do about it!
Troy: Okay, I know I said I can’t talk to you about what’s going on. But I can talk to myself. Could you pretend to be me?
Abed: (As Troy) I like football, but also I don’t.
Troy: Perfect. Okay, I can’t choose between Air Conditioning and Plumbing.
Abed: (As Troy) I know, it’s so hard, right? Let’s ask Abed! (As himself) Okay, now you be me. (As Troy) What should I do, Abed??
Troy: (As Abed) I don’t know, but Harrison Ford might know! Don’t get cocky, ki– (As himself) Okay, this isn’t working! Abed, tell me what to do!
Abed: I don’t really see the dilemma. Plumbing and Air Conditioning seem more or less identical.
Troy: They’re not! They couldn’t be more or less identical!
Abed: What do you feel like doing?
Troy: Honestly, I feel like watching TV with you! But they’re making me choose, and if I choose wrong, it could screw up my whole life.
Abed: If you really have to make a decision, I say go with whatever makes you the happiest. Because again, they’re virtually the same thing.
Troy: I think I know what I need to do.
Abed: Don’t get cocky, kid!
Jeff: Listen up, Colonel Cryptkeeper. I could live a million years, and I could spend every minute of it doing important things. But at the end of it all, I would’ve only lived half a life if I had not raised a son. This was a gift that was handed to you, you squandered it. The reason you have so much hatred in your heart is because you’re trying to fill a hole where your kid was supposed to go. And now it’s too late, now you’re just stomping around try to prove you exist. Well, mission accomplished. But here’s a question I’d like to pass on to you from every son of every crap dad that ever lived. So what? I’m done with you, he’s done with you. The world is done with you.
Jeff: Come on in, he’s a Hawthorne. This is what they do, he’s faking.
Pierce: I don’t know, I looked it up on the Wy-ki-pe-dya.
Pierce: Father I’ll never forget what you said to me on my first day on school: “Comb your hair you idiot, you look Greek.” I’ll never know if that was true, but I do know I was too scared to stand up for myself. Well, I’m not scared of you anymore because you’re dead, and I’m not. So I win. And you can suck it.
Troy: Dude just told his dead dad to suck it.
Britta: So Edible.
Priest: You’re the worst.
Troy: The question isn’t how old we are, but when old we are.