Fred: We look exactly like a household cleaner commercial.
Cordelia: We have not come a long way, baby.

Baby: My scene is completely pointless. Please kill me.
Gunn: Join the fucking club.
Cordelia: If I lapse into a coma, will you stop whining?
MoG: Is this a rhetorical question?

Fred: Apparently, Cordy's been braindead lately.
Angel: Why haven't we noticed?
Fred: Cause she's not the only one.
Angel: That was, in fact, a rhetorical question.

Fred: Please reassure me of my coolness.
Gunn: You are so very cool.
Fred: Cause that's not what I read on the Internet.
Gunn: Look, a bra! Bra joke! Ha! Girls have bras!
Fred: Thanks. I feel much smarter by comparison.

Cordelia: Are you the Ghost of Christmas Past?
Skip: No, I'm Skip, the Ghost of Recycled Narrative. I mean, Spiritual 
Guide! Spiritual Guide!
Cordelia: Am I a ghost?
Skip: Yes.
Phantom Dennis: Yippee!
Cordelia: As if.
Skip: Look, you're dying. At least look worried?
Cordelia: Kay, how's this? Skip! I'm 33 years old. I don't want to die!
Skip: 21. You're 21.

Skip: Wanna play pass the visions?
Cordelia: Ew.
Skip: Fine. Feel free to die.
Angel: If you don't revive Cordy, I will hurl myself at the walls.
The Metatron: Drama queen. We just repainted.
Skip: So. Death or fame? The suspense is killing everyone.

Cordelia: Whee! I'm rich and famous! Whee!
Assistant Kid in the Hall: Wish I could say the same.
Cordelia: I'm gonna go rip off some wallpaper.
Hyperion Manager: Boy, am I selling this to People magazine.

Cordelia: Wesley. You still can't dress.
Wesley: Fuck off. I'm manly and lost an arm.
Cordelia: I can see the arm right there. Use the freaking sleeve!
Wesley: Uh... Look over there!
Cordelia: Angel?
Angel: I'm an excellent driver.
Cordelia: If your next line is about not having underwear, I am choosing 
death.
Angel: My cat's breath smells like cat food.
Cordelia: Shut up, Angel.
Skip: I'm gonna turn you into a demon.
Angel: I just swallowed a tennis ball!
Cordelia: Didn't I ask you to shut up?
Angel: I did. I'm saying it with my face.
Cordelia: Demon sounds good.
Skip: Good. Now make with the vision-macking.
Cordelia: Mwah!
Skip: I meant with me, not with him

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