Aram Fingal:
I got 47 credits. What kind of a dopple do you think that buys?

Train passenger:
An anteater? Maybe.

Appollonia:
Electrons don't dance, Fingal. They don't make love.

Teacher:
Oh, Desiree... You could have got mustard all over his brain!

Appollonia:
I wouldn't wish that no good drone on anyone. Now he has started playing around with himself!

Appollonia:
Listen to me, Fingal... Your navel is very deep. I can't even see to the bottom of it. If you fall in, I can't guarantee to pull you out.

Appollonia:
Thou shalt not screw around with things thou dost not understand.

Fingal:
I guess I made some waves.

the Fatman:
I don't make threats, Mr. Fingal. Only promises!

Fingal:
At least I'm not an anteater.

Fingal:
I'm taking care of the Chairman. He's going on a month's compulsory rehab.

Appollonia:
You're putting him in Daisy!

Fingal:
Daisy's too good for the bastard. He's going on as an anteater!

Aram Fingal:
Mom... am I nuts?