- Dean Winchester: Cops have a theory?
- Sam Winchester: Yeah, they think the ball washer did it.
- Dean Winchester: The what?
- Sam Winchester: The ball washer.
- Dean Winchester: The what?
- Sam Winchester: The ball---
- [Realizes what Dean is doing]
- Dean Winchester: [When Sam suggests an angel might be behind the killings] Little imaginative for the Godsquad, don't ya think?
- Sam Winchester: Kid therapy. You draw your worst nightmare -- poof! -- Plucky fixes it. They hang them up on this big wall.
- Dean Winchester: [Looks at picture] Well, can't argue with this. Leprechauns *are* deadly.
- Tyler: [to another kid] Stop cheating!
- Dean Winchester: You heard him. Knock it off!
- [kid runs away]
- Tyler, Dean Winchester: Jackass.
- Sam Winchester: Any idea what he drew?
- Dean Winchester: Robot.
- Sam Winchester: Robot?
- Dean Winchester: Yeah, about the size of a house. Shoots destructo beams out of its eyes.
- Sam Winchester: [sighs] At least I'll see it coming.
- Dean Winchester: Well, what's my cover?
- Sam Winchester: I don't know. Just hang back. Act normal.
- Dean Winchester: Yeah, yeah. Guy in his 30s hanging out at Plucky's alone -- that's normal. That's not pervy at all.
- Dean Winchester: [about his mom] She's working a tough gig. You know? She's exhausted. You should take pity on the old.
- [Looks at plate]
- Dean Winchester: And, hey, free grub.
- Tyler: That stuff tastes like butt.
- Dean Winchester: Come on, it can't be that bad.
- [Takes a bite]
- Dean Winchester: Let's see here.
- [Spits it out]
- Dean Winchester: That is butt.
- Sam Winchester: [Covered in glitter after fighting clowns] Okay, just say it.
- Dean Winchester: [Cracking up] Ha! I'm sorry, you look like you got attacked by some PCP-crazed strippers.
- Dean Winchester: How much?
- Howard: Oh, we don't take cash here at Plucky Pennywhistle's. Only tickets won through hard work and determination.
- Dean Winchester: You mainlined the kool-aid, huh?
- Dean Winchester: A few simple rules, okay? No babies. In fact, no baby mamas. No bars. No booze; no hot chicks of any kind.
- Sam Winchester: Wait, wait, wait. Did you just say-...
- Dean Winchester: Hey. You spawn a monster baby, see how quick you want to dive back in the pool.
- Dean Winchester: That's a shark bite.
- Sam Winchester: Yeah.
- Dean Winchester: And, judging from the radius, I'd say a 20-footer, at least.
- [Sam gives him a look]
- Dean Winchester: "Shark Week," man. How do you not watch that? Whole week of sharks.
- Cliff: If this is about the meth lab that fireballed up in Butte, it wasn't me. Okay, it was my brother, but, we got the same fingerprints!
- Dean Winchester: You're not using kids' nightmares to smoke people, are you, Cliff?
- Cliff: I don't... think so.
- Dean Winchester: So what are we looking for? An octovamp? A vamptopus?
- Sam Winchester: That's crazy even for us, right?
- Dean Winchester: Great, so whatever we're looking for can literally fire off childhood fears at will. Wow. Watch out for evil lunch ladies.
- Howard: Plucky helps kids. It's all I ever wanted to do. And when the management slot opened up, I... But they passed me over.
- Dean Winchester: Shocker.
- Dean Winchester: Seriously, Frank, pay phones? I mean, come on. I'm getting the clap off this thing just touching it.
- Sam Winchester: All right. I'm on the nanny.
- Dean Winchester: No, I'm on the nanny.
- Sam Winchester: I thought you said no hot chicks.
- Dean Winchester: We don't know that she's hot.
- Dean Winchester: Mom, dad, nanny. Boy, that is a love triangle right out of Casa Erotica. 'Course, in those, the jealous wife tends to channel her feelings more productively.