Ricky : Hey Lahey, knock knock. Mr. Lahey : Who's there, Rick? Ricky : Mr. Stupidy-head, thats, fuckin' pissin' me off right now and thinks he's the captain of the Shit-liner, and by the way your fish stick sucks so fuck off!

Ricky : Knock-knock, Lahey. Mr. Lahey : Who's there, Ricky? Ricky : A fuckin' shitty fuckin' trailer park supervisor who hangs around with a big-gutted drunk elf who thinks he's gettin' us thrown back in jail but he can't 'cause he's got no evidence and he's dumb as fuck, and he's got this other thing goin' on in his head that's tryin' to... twirly around and... fuckin' get... different... FUCK!

Mr. Lahey : Many are called, Rick. Ricky : And many can fuck off, Lahey!

Ricky : What in the fuck are you dressed up as a bumblebee for? And why do you look like Indianapolis Jones? Mr. Lahey : It's none of your goddamn business, Ricky. If you must know, Randy and I were rehearsing for a play for the Blandford Recreation Centre next Thursday. Randy : No! Mr. Lahey, we weren't rehearsing for a play. Mr. Lahey : We were practicing, Randy. Randy : It's not Halloween, we're not doing community theatre. Mr. Lahey : Randy... Randy : Were consenting adults. And what we do in the privacy of our own home is... is fine, Mr. Lahey. Mr. Lahey : Randy, please. Randy : And I don't care. I don't care if the whole world knows that we like to dress up, that we like to have some fun... and that, we're a couple. Hey everybody! We're gay! Ricky : [shocked]  What? Randy : Say it Mr. Lahey. It feels great. Mr. Lahey : [long pause]  Alright Randy. We'll do it your way. Everybody... I'm gay. [the camera turns to a shocked Bubbles, who akwardly turns away] 

Mr. Lahey : He's takin' the shit tornado right back to Oz. Randy : Well that would make Sam, Dorothy. Right Mr. Lahey? Mr. Lahey : Right, Randy.

Mr. Lahey : I might shoot you, and then I might shoot myself. Tell you what, you guess Ricky. Guess who i'm gonna shoot first. Will it be you Rick? Ricky : No. Mr. Lahey : Or will it be me? Ricky : Yeah. Mr. Lahey : You? Ricky : No! Mr. Lahey : Me? Ricky : Yeah! Shoot yourself, don't shoot me.

Mr. Lahey : Randy just doesn't understand. I mean I love him dearly, but I hate Ricky more. I just don't want to have to put up with that prick for the rest of my life. You know, he grew up as a little shit-spark from the old shit-flint. And then he turned into a shit-bonfire and then driven by the winds of his monumental ignorance, he turned into a raging shit-firestorm. If I get to be married to Barb i'll have total control of Sunnyvale, and then I can unleash a shitnami tidal wave that'll engulf Ricky and extinguish his shit-flames forever. And with any luck, he'll drown in the undershit of that wave. Shit-waves.

[while delivering his speech drunk, to become trailer park supervisor]  Mr. Lahey : Who is this park, or even in the whole world, doesn't have problems? Who doesn't have a drink too many times once in a while and maybe even winds up passed out in their own driveway, pissing themselves? Who doesn't drink too much sometimes or who doesn't have a puff from time to time? And who doesn't have problems with the people they love? This is our home. This is our community. I am Jim Lahey, and *I am your trailer park supervisor!*

Mr. Lahey : Where ya stayin' Rick? Ricky : At the fuck-off hotel Lahey.

Jacob Collins : Baaaaaaaaaaam! Phil Collins : Peanut butter and jaaaaaaaaaaam! Mr. Lahey : What the fuck are you doing, Phil?

Julian : There's something you forgot about. The liquor works for both sides, buddy. Mr. Lahey : You might be sexy, Julian, but you can't teach me anything about liquor.

Mr. Lahey : Birds of a shitfeather flock together, Randy.

Mr. Lahey : Why don't you get a life Rick? Why don't ya go to community college like Julian here. Hey, I got a good idea. You could teach, livin' in a car and growin' dope 101. Ricky : Hehe. And you can teach how to get drunk, get fired from the police force become a... lousy trailer park supervisor that sucks, hangs around with a fuckin' idiot that doesn't wear a shirt and looks like a dick but thinks he looks good... 101.

Ricky : Hey Lahey, knock knock. Mr. Lahey : Who's there, Rick? Ricky : Mr. Stupidy-head, thats, fuckin' pissin' me off right now and thinks he's the captain of the Shit-liner, and by the way your fish stick sucks so fuck off!

Ricky : Knock-knock, Lahey. Mr. Lahey : Who's there, Ricky? Ricky : A fuckin' shitty fuckin' trailer park supervisor who hangs around with a big-gutted drunk elf who thinks he's gettin' us thrown back in jail but he can't 'cause he's got no evidence and he's dumb as fuck, and he's got this other thing goin' on in his head that's tryin' to... twirly around and... fuckin' get... different... FUCK!

Mr. Lahey : Many are called, Rick. Ricky : And many can fuck off, Lahey!

Ricky : What in the fuck are you dressed up as a bumblebee for? And why do you look like Indianapolis Jones? Mr. Lahey : It's none of your goddamn business, Ricky. If you must know, Randy and I were rehearsing for a play for the Blandford Recreation Centre next Thursday. Randy : No! Mr. Lahey, we weren't rehearsing for a play. Mr. Lahey : We were practicing, Randy. Randy : It's not Halloween, we're not doing community theatre. Mr. Lahey : Randy... Randy : Were consenting adults. And what we do in the privacy of our own home is... is fine, Mr. Lahey. Mr. Lahey : Randy, please. Randy : And I don't care. I don't care if the whole world knows that we like to dress up, that we like to have some fun... and that, we're a couple. Hey everybody! We're gay! Ricky : [shocked]  What? Randy : Say it Mr. Lahey. It feels great. Mr. Lahey : [long pause]  Alright Randy. We'll do it your way. Everybody... I'm gay. [the camera turns to a shocked Bubbles, who akwardly turns away] 

Mr. Lahey : He's takin' the shit tornado right back to Oz. Randy : Well that would make Sam, Dorothy. Right Mr. Lahey? Mr. Lahey : Right, Randy.

Mr. Lahey : I might shoot you, and then I might shoot myself. Tell you what, you guess Ricky. Guess who i'm gonna shoot first. Will it be you Rick? Ricky : No. Mr. Lahey : Or will it be me? Ricky : Yeah. Mr. Lahey : You? Ricky : No! Mr. Lahey : Me? Ricky : Yeah! Shoot yourself, don't shoot me.

Mr. Lahey : Randy just doesn't understand. I mean I love him dearly, but I hate Ricky more. I just don't want to have to put up with that prick for the rest of my life. You know, he grew up as a little shit-spark from the old shit-flint. And then he turned into a shit-bonfire and then driven by the winds of his monumental ignorance, he turned into a raging shit-firestorm. If I get to be married to Barb i'll have total control of Sunnyvale, and then I can unleash a shitnami tidal wave that'll engulf Ricky and extinguish his shit-flames forever. And with any luck, he'll drown in the undershit of that wave. Shit-waves.

[while delivering his speech drunk, to become trailer park supervisor]  Mr. Lahey : Who is this park, or even in the whole world, doesn't have problems? Who doesn't have a drink too many times once in a while and maybe even winds up passed out in their own driveway, pissing themselves? Who doesn't drink too much sometimes or who doesn't have a puff from time to time? And who doesn't have problems with the people they love? This is our home. This is our community. I am Jim Lahey, and *I am your trailer park supervisor!*

Mr. Lahey : Where ya stayin' Rick? Ricky : At the fuck-off hotel Lahey.

Jacob Collins : Baaaaaaaaaaam! Phil Collins : Peanut butter and jaaaaaaaaaaam! Mr. Lahey : What the fuck are you doing, Phil?

Julian : There's something you forgot about. The liquor works for both sides, buddy. Mr. Lahey : You might be sexy, Julian, but you can't teach me anything about liquor.

Mr. Lahey : Birds of a shitfeather flock together, Randy.

Mr. Lahey : Why don't you get a life Rick? Why don't ya go to community college like Julian here. Hey, I got a good idea. You could teach, livin' in a car and growin' dope 101. Ricky : Hehe. And you can teach how to get drunk, get fired from the police force become a... lousy trailer park supervisor that sucks, hangs around with a fuckin' idiot that doesn't wear a shirt and looks like a dick but thinks he looks good... 101.