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my grinded gears
Feinstein: Do you need a bazooka?
Quirk: Not now, no...but should I need one, can find one, can afford one, then I'll damned well have one.
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Francis: I can't excommunicate the bulk of the Church!
Quirk: Then you preside over a carcass.
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Flight Attendant: No small knives!
Quirk: Agreed! Instead: Butcher knives! Swords!
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Any politician you care to name: I need your support (money!).
Quirk: No.
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Any busybody you care to name: That's not good for you!
Quirk: Mind your own business.
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Fat ass poor person: It's not fair you have more! Gimme!
Quirk: No.
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Fat ass rich person: I create jobs, drive the economy! I need tax breaks!
Quirk: No.
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Young person: y u b h8n ?
Quirk: Be quiet, drink your poison, er, 'soda'.
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Old person: Respect me!
Quirk: Be quiet, drink your poison, er, 'prune juice'.
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Any talking head you care to name: Blah, blah, blah.
Quirk: Shut. Up.
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