Joyce: It's an outfit. An outfit that you may never buy.
Buffy: But I looked good in it.
Joyce: You looked like a streetwalker.
Buffy: But a thin streetwalker. That's probably not gonna be the winning argument, is it?
Joyce: You're just too young to wear that.
Buffy: Yeah, and I'm gonna be too young to wear it til I'm too old to wear it.
Joyce: That's the idea.
Lyle: Alright, sugar lips. Giddy-up! Well, you're a rough one, ain't cha! I like that!
Joyce: Honestly, don't you ever think about anything besides boys and clothes?
Buffy: Saving the world from vampires?
Joyce: I swear, sometimes I don't know what goes on in your head.
Xander: You know what? This would work better for me if you didn't talk.
Cordelia: Well, it'd work a lot better for me with the lights off.
Xander: Are you saying that you can't look at me when we do... whatever it is we do?
Cordelia: No, it's not that I can't, it's just more... I don't want to.
Xander: That's great! That's just dandy! We're repulsed by each other, we, we hide from our friends...
Cordelia: Well, I should hope so! Please!
Xander: All in all this is not what I'd call a big self-esteem booster.
Cordelia: Tell me about it! Just look at you! And those clothes. Where did you get those shoes?
Xander: Okay, you know what? I don't need this.
Cordelia: Ditto! Like a hole in the head!
Mr. Whitmore: How many of us have lost countless productive hours plagued by unwanted sexual thoughts and feelings?
Xander: Yes. Mm-hm.
Mr. Whitmore: That was a rhetorical question, Mr. Harris, not a poll.
Cordelia: Well, that depends. Are you talking about sex in the car or out of the car? Because I have a friend, not me, that was in a Miata at, parked at the top of the hill, and then she kicked the gearshift, and, and...
Mr. Whitmore: Yeah, I-I was thinking of something a little more commonplace, Ms. Chase.
Xander: Hey. I know we just met, but isn't that Xander Jr. you're holding?
Buffy: As far as punishments go, this is fairly abstract.
Willow: No, it's your baby!
Buffy: Okay, I get it even less.
Buffy: I'm a single mother?
Xander: No man of her own.
Buffy: Do you know what this says about me? That I am doomed to lead my mother's life! How deeply scary is that?
Xander: Nuff said! I propose Buffy slays em. All in favor?
Buffy: Okay, little egg dude. Let's see. Feeding? Check. Burping? Eeeew... Check. Diapers. Sort of, in theory, I guess. Okay. Good night, Eggbert.
Tector: I'm tired of rat. How come we can't stay in a nice place? A motel or somethin? Maybe, uh... Maybe one with an ice machine.
Joyce: Are you sure your egg is secure in that?
Buffy: Did I ask for backseat mommying?
Buffy: Oh, no, it's not that, I just... I didn't sleep well.
Joyce: What's the matter? Your egg keep you up all night?
Buffy: You're killing me. Parenting's a pain.
Joyce: Wait til it starts dating.
Xander: Apparently Buffy has decided the problem with the English language is all those pesky words. You... Angel... big... smoochies?
Buffy: Shut... up.
Xander: Which is another secret to concientious egg care: pot of scalding water and about eight minutes.
Willow: You boiled your young?
Xander: Yeah! I know it sounds cruel, but sometimes you gotta be cruel to be kind! I mean, you can bet that little Xander here is thick skinned now.
Giles: Technically that would be cheating, yes?
Xander: No! It's like a short cut. You know, when you run a race?
Buffy: That would also be cheating.
Willow: You should be ashamed.
Giles: I suppose there is a sort of... Machiavellian ingenuity to your trangression.
Xander: I resent that! Or possibly thank you.
Cordelia: Well, his body could fall out of a closet somewhere. So we should check some closets to see if he's in a closet?
Xander: You're right. There could be a closet. Let's go. You guys look for more clues. We'll meet back here.
Buffy: We'll get right on it.
Willow: Are they getting weirder? Have you noticed the weirdness of them?
Buffy: They're weird.
Buffy: Angel, when I look into the future, a-a... all I see is you! All I want is you.
Angel: I know the feeling.
Buffy: So, your egg isn't acting odd or anything?
Cordelia: It isn't acting anything. It's an egg, Buffy, it doesn't emote.
Buffy: Great. You know, I always say that a day without an autopsy... is like a day without sunshine.
Xander: Can I just say, Gyughhh!!!
Buffy: I see your Gyughhh! and raise you a Nyaghhh!!!
Xander: So, okay! Get started, Buffy! Dissect it or something.
Buffy: Me? Why do I have to dissect it?
Xander: Uh, because you're the Slayer?
Buffy: And I slayed! My work here is done.
Xander: Oh, no, I almost ate one of those things. I think I've fulfilled my gross-out quota for the decade.
Xander: Do we even know what to look for? I mean, how are we supposed to figure out what this thing is?
Buffy: Turn it over. Maybe we missed its ID braclet.
Joyce: They can be such a... Oh, uh, I-I-I dont' want to say 'burden', but, uh... Uh, actually I kind of do want to say 'burden'!
Buffy: Hey! Xander! Hey! You alright?
Xander: Last time Cordy dragged me in here, it was a lot nicer.
Xander: Uh... Huh? Nothing. Uh, crazy talk. Head trauma.
Buffy: Tell me about it. I'm gonna have a big bump.
Xander: Un, I'm gonna have a peninsula!
Buffy: A bozo! Not a bozo.
Xander: A bezoar!
Buffy: That's it. Okay, so now... we look it up?
Xander: In what?
Buffy: A book?
Buffy: So, our people are taking orders from the mama bezoar. Which begs the question...
Xander: What does mama want?
Jonathan: Somebody help me! Get this thing off me! Get this... Somebody help me! Help!
Buffy: Are you okay?
Jonathan: I'm fine. I slipped.
Buffy: I think I hear mommy calling.
Buffy: I'm gonna need a weapon. I'm gonna need a big weapon.
Xander:Cordelia! I don't want to hurt ya. Some of the time.
Willow: Did I really hit you?
Xander: You knocked me out.
Cordelia: Did I hit you?
Xander: Yes, everone hit me.
Cordelia: Good. Well, I don't mean good because I hit you, but... I didn't want to be left out.