Opening Night

Moira:David, did you bedazzle my portfolio?

David:No. I would never bedazzle a portfolio. I bedazzle things that matter.

Moira:He emerged from that change room looking like a disco ball had relations with a funeral home.

Moira:I had the most vivid dream last night that you were bedazzling a jean jacket in the living room.

David:That wasn't a dream.

Moira:Yes, well, we've established the awkwardness. It hangs in the air like a bad perm.

Moira:David, you're being as skittish as a mink in a bathtub full of thumbtacks.

Johnny:Oh good, you're making yourself at home.

Moira:Well, darling, it was simply a case of heavy petting, and I use that term in the most antiquated sense possible.

Moira:I'm going to have an afternoon delight.

David:Oh my God.

Alexis:Mom!

Johnny:Moira...

Johnny:Jake, welcome! We're so glad you're here. You know, it's not every day we get to meet someone with such... such a substantial presence.

Johnny:I mean, you really fill up a room, don't you? In the best way, of course.

David:Why are you still here? Are you waiting for an apology? Because I'm not going to give you one.

Johnny:Who's sitting at my desk?

Bob:Well, I think of it less as someone stealing your office and more as someone borrowing it without asking and never giving it back.

Cal:Yes, hello, I'm calling to tell you that you need antivirus software. No, no, your computer hasn't shown any signs of a virus? That's because the software is working. You don't have it yet? Well, that's the problem right there.

Bob:Cal fixed my computer. He said the problem was that I had too many tabs open.

Bob:So he deleted my entire hard drive.

Bob:Now I have zero tabs open.

Bob:The man's a genius.

Johnny:I don't understand why I have to share my office. This is my workspace. I need privacy, I need quiet, I need to be able to think.

Bob:Well, you could just leave.

Stevie:Sloppy thirds.

Stevie:I'm defending Jake.

Stevie:Wait, how many people have you been with?

Jake:I don't know, like... a lot?

Stevie:Oh my God.

Stevie:I am not sloppy seconds. I am like... a pristine, untouched, factory-sealed item that someone just decided to return without a receipt.

Moira:I must say, this town hall has all the makings of a proper theatrical production. The fluorescent lighting is positively Brechtian, and this folding chair arrangement? Pure Artaudian discomfort. I do hope someone's brought their A-game, because I certainly have.

Moira:I mean, if you're going to show up to a town council meeting, the least you can do is dress appropriately. Fashion is not a frivolity—it's a civic responsibility. These people look like they got dressed in the dark at a clearance bin.

Mutt:We just threw some stuff in the van and drove. No plan, no reservation, just spontaneity.

Alexis:So you're describing my personal hell.

Moira:The children need extended hours! Some of us have important commitments. I have a dermatology appointment that simply cannot be rescheduled, and then I'm meeting with my colorist, and frankly, after the incident in the mines of Transylvania, I simply cannot be away from a licensed esthetician for more than six hours.

Moira:Oh my God, Johnny covered head to toe in coal dust, looking like some sort of... tragic Shakespearean figure emerging from the depths of the earth.

Moira:So what you're telling me is that you're going to turn these children out onto the street? Into the cold? Homeless? Destitute? Wandering the highways like little Dickensian orphans, begging for gruel?

Moira:Is that the legacy you want? Because I can see it now — a documentary in ten years, 'Where Are They Now?' And it's just footage of your former students huddled under bridges, asking themselves, 'Why? Why did Mrs. Rose abandon us?'

Johnny:Moira, you can't just burst into rooms and deliver monologues. That's not how normal people behave.

Moira:Well, normal people don't have my bone structure, but here we are.

Johnny:I'm serious. Even on that soap opera you did, 'The Crows Have Eyes III,' characters had some semblance of realism.

Ronnie:Oh sure, let me just go plant some money trees. I'll have them grow overnight, and by morning, we'll have a whole orchard of crisp hundred dollar bills just hanging there like apples.

Ronnie:What, do you think money grows on trees?

Ronnie:Oh wait, it does. I planted some cash seeds last spring and I got a beautiful money tree. Plus a bonus asparagus plant that grows actual asparagus, which is weird because I planted money.

Ronnie:Then I got a potato plant that grows little bags of cash instead of potatoes. Those are literal bags of money, by the way, not potato-shaped money.

Ronnie:And now I've got this carrot situation where the carrots are made of hundred dollar bills. Actual carrots made of cash. Not cash-colored carrots. Carrots. Made of bills.

Johnny:Well then, I shall be Johnrose.

Amygrace:Screamnastic inner/outer beauty connectivity.

Johnny:We could open a Screamnasium by Christmas.

Amygrace:Absolutely not.

Jake:I think I'm getting a little high... from the fumes.

Moira:I have nothing but fond memories of that very specific 30-minute window between when David came home from school and when I had to pick him up from daycare.

Jake:We're not together.

Alexis:Wow, that was fast.

Mutt:So I was using this broken compass to navigate out to the pine trees.

David:A broken compass? How did that possibly work?

Mutt:Well, it didn't. We ended up three miles in the wrong direction.

David:Of course you did.

Alexis:I'm not really pining for the pinecone business.

Twyla:Hi Moira. Just a heads up - those olives by the cheese are starting to turn a little funky. I'd skip those.

Moira:Oh my God, you smell like a martini factory. You're acting exactly like my mother used to.

Moira:You are a good man, Johnny. A truly good man.

Moira:But that shirt is doing you no favors.

Johnny:Could you... could you turn up the lights in here? I can't see anything.

Waitress:The lights are on.

Johnny:Well, turn them up more. I'm hungover and I can't see the menu.

David:I'd like the eggs benedict, but can you make the hollandaise with a more aggressive aioli situation, and can we get some microgreens involved? Actually, you know what, just bring me a bottle of water and some aspirin.

Moira:I'd like to propose a toast to Johnny's resilience.

Moira:To a man who can drink an entire bottle of wine and still wake up the next morning.

Moira:Well, I think we should toast to your resilience.

Johnny:Moira, I appreciate the sentiment, but alcohol is what got me into this mess in the first place.

Moira:Precisely. And look how well you're handling it.