The Awesomes

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The Awesomes is an animated comedy series that streamed exclusively on Hulu.

Season 1[edit]

Pilot Part 1[edit]

Dr. Malocchio: But now there is nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
Police Officer: Run! Hide!
Dr. Malocchio: What did I just say about running and hiding? What does a guy have to do to be listened to?

Prock: That's enough!
Dr. Malocchio: Okay, that's right. That's enough. Should I just give you the gun?
Prock: Are you serious?
Dr. Malocchio: Of course I'm not!

Susan Grace: Can you believe Mr. Awesome is 90? My grandmother is 87 and she's a mess.
Ricky Finn: Mine is 82 and I've completely written her off.

Muscleman: Perfectman, over you? Why? Because he's stronger, because he's faster, handsomer? Because he can fly, because of his hair? His hair is awesome.
Prock: You're not helping.

Mr. Awesome: But you are very bright. Why not use those smarts? Be a doctor, a lawyer, start a photo blog?

Perfect Man: Mr. Awesome, you are in many ways the father I never had.
Mr. Awesome: And you, Perfect Man, are like the son I never had.
Prock: I'm his son.
Muscleman: Right. But he's never had a son like Perfect Man.
Prock: That's not how the phrase is used.

Dr. Malocchio: Wonderful. I'm going to need a Tom Ford suit, some tuna carpaccio, three hookers, and one of those smartphones. A really, really smart phone. Wonderful, let's hop to it. Evil to be done!

Prock: And what's going on?
Joyce Mandrake: By the order of the President of the United States, we are Implementing Code 33.
Muscleman: Thirty-three is my ATM PIN code.
Prock: PIN codes are four digits.
Muscleman: That probably explains why money never comes out.

Prock: They would never walk over Dad like this. He would stick out his jaw and tell them absolutely not. I'm in charge now, that's what I have to do. Of course, I don't really have my father's jaw. His is almost a perfect square, and mine is weak and soft. Man, of all the things I didn't get from my dad, the thing I want most is that big ole jaw. So sticking out the jaw is a no-go.

Prock: How many are interested?
Concierge: None.
Prock: Did you say nine?
Concierge: None.
Prock: When you say none...?
Concierge: A hundred and twenty-six gave a flat no, forty-five laughed at me, and three told me to tell you to go *bleep* yourself. Which I told them I was not going to do.
Prock: Thanks for that.

Concierge: Maybe you're right. This is the new Awesomes, after all. Our bar is lower.
Muscleman: Ohhh, that's a good slogan.
Prock: That's not a good slogan.

Impresario: So, how does this work? Do I get a secret identity? Perhaps wealthy philanthropist? In which case you should probably procure me a mansion and fancy butler.
Concierge: You live in a room at Awesome Headquarters and get paid every other Thursday.
Impresario: The hell?

Tim's Mother: Tim is 11 years old, but he is very strong.
Tim's Father: And very hard working. Tim is not lazy or weak like American heroes.
Prock: We're all American heroes.
Tim's Mother: And look at you. Stupid, fat, crazy, and weak. How did I do?
Concierge: Not bad.

Muscleman: You got some size in you there, short-pants. But as many ladies have told me, size doesn't matter.

Muscleman: Elderly chick fight! Coincidentally, that is the title of my favorite DVD.

Pilot Part 2[edit]

Muscleman: What's this big fellow called?
Concierge: Compost.
Frantic: What is he?
Concierge: It's a sentient mass of mutated waste.
Impresario: So it literally has *bleep* for brains.

Muscleman: Don't worry about the plan, people. We are the new Awesomes, led by our fearless leader, Professor Doctor. A brain as big as Baltimore and brass cajones to match. What do we do, Prock?
Gadget Gal: Wow. Look at him go.
Muscleman: Yeah, you got to be a little impressed at how fast he can run. Nice form, buddy!

Muscleman: Everyone watches this show. It's your chance to tell the world the Awesomes are alive and you are in charge.
Prock: But it's a gotcha show. He's going to try to trick me into looking stupid.
Muscleman: Or is it a "getcha" show, where after the interview, people will get ya.
Prock: There's no such thing as a "getcha" show.
Muscleman: Gotcha.

Spencer Robertson: Can I start by reading some quotes about you?
Prock: Sure.
Spencer Robertson: "Will never be his father." "A pale imitation." "A family shame." "Adopted."
Prock: Whose quotes are these?
Spencer Robertson: Mine.

Joyce Mandrake: You were trying to defraud the government and the agency that has supported you for decades. And you know what we call that in Federal government? A dick move.

Dr. Malocchio: Now you can't walk down the street without worrying some brawny so-called hero is going to be swinging a girder like a baseball bat just to stop a simple bank heist.
Muscleman: I do that. It's really fun.

Joyce Mandrake: Who are these people?
Prock: Oh, no. It's The Animal Kingdom.
Joyce Mandrake: Oh, they are so cute. Ah, look at you. You guys are precious.
Lion: Silence, whore, or I will rip your tongue from your gullet.
Joyce Mandrake: Wow. That is *bleep* up.
Prock: Yep.

Baby Got Backstory[edit]

Muscleman: No, you want your most powerful for this shiz. That means me. I'm not called Muscleman just because I'm a man. I'm also strong.

Gadget Gal: My body may have been dosed with a reverse-aging ray, turning me into this hot tamale, but my bladder still thinks I'm 80 years old.
Hotwire: Oh, I'll go with you. Some girl time.
Gadget Gal: I don't do that, Hotwire. I've always been pee-shy since the Korean War! Those sneaky little fellows always liked to grab a look.
Hotwire: Oh, no no, I wouldn't...
Gadget Gal: Flying solo!

Dr. Malocchio: Is it happening?
Mind-Controlled Servant: Yes, Dr. Malocchio. The Awesomes are trapped.
Dr. Malocchio: Heh heh. Wonderful. All is going exactly as planned. Now all we have to do is wait.
Mind-Controlled Servant: Or... we could get sushi and come back.
Dr. Malocchio: Ooh, sushi. Yes!

Gadget Gal: How's it going there, Tom Boy?
Tom Boy: I'm just peachy, Gadget Gal. You?
Gadget Gal: Can't complain.
Tom Boy: Umm, out for a stroll?
Gadget Gal: Headed for the little girl's room.
Tom Boy: Well, you may get a few breaks, but one of them won't be a pee break.
Gadget Gal: Classy.
Tom Boy: I try.
Gadget Gal: Try harder.
Tom Boy: I will.
Gadget Gal: Big talk.
Tom Boy: It ain't talk.
Gadget Gal: Funny, cause that's all you're doing.
Tom Boy: I'm not... wait, sorry, I lost the thread there. Wait, "All I'm doing is..."
Gadget Gal: "Talking."
Tom Boy: Got it, thank you. Talk is cheap.
Gadget Gal: And you're a cheap date, sister.
Tom Boy: Heh, if that ain't the kettle on Mamie Eisenhower.
Gadget Gal: You're a nickel a dance, Mary.
Tom Boy: More like a dime.
Concierge: Good lord, they fight so boring.

Gadget Gal: Oh, you don't worry about me, dolly. You worry about Captain Butchpants over there.
Tom Boy: My name is Tom Boy. I haven't gone by Captain Butchpants since the 70s. Goddamn feminists.

Frantic: Oh my god! Gadget Gal's going to die, and there's nothing we can do about it? Eh, whatever, let's get back to the origin stories!

Tim: How about you, Hotwire? How did you get started?
Hotwire: Oh, you know, it's not that interesting.
Muscleman: It's okay. Concierge was boring and we didn't mind.
Concierge: I thought you weren't listening.
Muscleman: Listening to what?

Muscleman: You want some banana bread? Impresario's mom made it. It's not good at all, but she says it's made with love. Love must taste like feet.

No Mo' Sumo[edit]

Gadget Gal: Boy, you Orientals are strict.
Everyone: Hey!
Gadget Gal: What? It's not like I called them cat-eaters.
Everyone: Hey!
Gadget Gal: Oh, they eat cats and I'm the monster.
Concierge: For what it's worth, she's not actually racist for her age.
Impresario: I'm pretty sure she is.
Concierge: Shhh.

Tim's Mom: Okay, yes, we did hurt a lot of people. Bad people.
Tim's Dad: Yes. Mostly bad people. And some people who, you know, just got in the way.
Tim's Mom: I guess you'd call them "innocent bystanders."
Tim's Dad: Yes. You could call them that.

Prock: You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy then in... the suburbs.

Muscleman: Like Jedi, but without all the merchandise.

Hotwire: Prock, should we arrest them? Or something?
Prock: For what? Lying to their son?
Impresario: My momma never lies to me. She tells me that I'm God's most beautiful creation. And she is right.
Frantic: My parents told me that when I was in my momma's belly, I ate my twin. They would tell me that a lot.

Prock: And by the way, right now you're plenty safe with us. I told Frantic to do recon.
Frantic: And I've been doing reckonin' every since. I reckon when this is over, weh should have catfish. I reckon we're in for a cold snap, and I reckon I should get some new headshots done because I'm about to be famous.
Prock: Wait, so you haven't been doing recon?
Frantic: I have not, because I do not know what that means.

Perfect Man: I have no idea what the Awesomes are up to, or what you, Dr. Malocchio, are trying to pull. But I don't need ideas. I never have.

Muscleman: On the bright side...
Prock: Don't say German porn.
Muscleman: Well then the glass is half-empty.

Gadget Gal: I loathe to use the "N" word...
Everyone: Don't!
Gadget Gal: I hate ninjas.
Everyone: Ohhh...

Muscleman: This is bad news.
Prock: Why? Your German pornography can't help us?
Muscleman: No. I left it in the car.

It's a Mad Mad Mad Parallel World[edit]

Frantic: It's like they're cool-looking versions of us.
Concierge: Not cool: evil! They're evil versions of us. And I'll add, evil version of me looks kind of whorish.
Impresario: That's a pretty great coat, though.
Concierge: Figures evil me would have style. I bet she has boyfriends instead of cats, too.

Professor Astounding: We are... the Astoundings.
Impresario: Astoundings? Shouldn't you have, like, a kind of an opposite name, like *bleep*?
Gadget Gal: *bleep* works for me.
Mercenary Moll: Watch that mouth, Dorothy. You ain't in Kansas anymore.
Gadget Gal: No, but we did find ourselves a witch.

Perfect Man: I am absolutely, 100% going to find them. I will leave no stone unturned. See this stone? I already turned it, and they are not there. But that will not keep me from looking under all other stones. All. Other. Stones.

Perfect Man: I looked everywhere on Earth. And not like the cliche. I've got x-ray and telescopic vision. I mean I looked everywhere on Earth. I saw a lot of naked people I'd rather not have seen. And reruns of Friends. No matter where you look, there's always a rerun of Friends.

Muscleman: So which Earth is this? Earth 2?
Concierge: No, it's opposites. Which means this is Earth 4. Earth 2 is where everybody is really fat.
Frantic: What's Earth 3?
Concierge: Earth 3 is run by apes.
Gadget Gal: I thought Earth 3 was Nazis.
Concierge: It was, then the apes went to war with the Nazis and took over.
Impresario: Way to go, apes!
Muscleman: I would have really liked to see the Nazi-ape war.

Muscleman: Ah, that was fun.
Prock: Fun?
Muscleman: Well, technically, it was awful. But I'm going to say it was fun because we're on opposite Earth. I think it's important to try and fit in.
Impresario: Ooh, I like that. I mean, I hate that.
Concierge: You guys are geniuses. i.e,. idiots.
Prock: Everyone, stop talking.
Tim: Don't you mean, "nobody start being quiet"?
Prock: Arrgh.
Frantic: The correct expression is, "Yay!"

Frantic: I'll bet on Earth 4 sewers are magical places full of wonders. Or just slightly worse sewers.

Frantic: Holy crap! He looks just like Tom Boy, your arch-enemy who's a lesbian and totally in love with you except on this Earth, he's a crazy hot dude.
Gadget Gal: Mama gives Earth 4 a perfect 10.
Handy Man: Say there, sister. Would you be insulted if a fella would...?
Gadget Gal: Make passionate love to me over by the sanitary sewer overflow juncture? I'd be honored.
Tim: I wish I hadn't heard any of that.

Prock: What?
Tim: Sometimes we forget you're smart.
Prock: I'm a super-genius. How can you forget that?
Impresario: I guess the other stuff like being injury-prone and whiny kind of takes first position.
Prock: I'm not whiny!
Muscleman: Ha. Good opposite Earth joke.

Gadget Gal: Well, I did understudy for Elaine Stritch in Pal Joey.

Handy Man: Wanna find some room under the pasta bar? I make a mean penne ala sausage.
Tim: I need to stop hearing stuff like that.

Gadget Gal: It's been some ride, my Handy Man. You've done things to my lady parts that I will not soon forget.
Handy Man: And no one has ever treated a tool as well as you treated mine. And I should know. I'm... the Handy Man.
Tim: At this point, I should admit to myself I like it.


Prock: First of all, we didn't zip. We were zapped. Huge difference.
Impresario: I may have zapped my pants on re-entry, if you know what I mean.
Tim: Uh, who wouldn't know what you mean?

Prock: Is there any way to appeal the decision?
Joyce Mandrake: Yes, you can appeal it verbally to my right now.
Prock: I feel like you're just going to say no.
Joyce Mandrake: Well, you won't know until you appeal.
Prock: Will you please...?
Joyce Mandrake: No.

Frantic: My cousin used to make patterns in the cornfield with a tractor. He said he was sending signals to alien lifeforms.
Muscleman: That's crazy.
Frantic: What's crazy is how he died.
Muscleman: Aliens?
Frantic: No, the horse he was having sex with fell on him.

Gadget Gal: Who wants some nose candy?
Prock: Gadget Gal!
Gadget Gal: And by that, I mean Dr. Bloomer's Nose Lozenges.
Prock: Oh, that's fine, then.
Gadget Gal: Made from pure cocaine.

Gadget Gal: In my day our men kept their feelings bottled up inside. Just a churning mass of emotions and rage they could never show the outside world. Eventually that pressure would be too much to bear. The weak ones would blow their brains out, but the strong ones would use it. They'd use it in the bedroom. And it would turn them from men into animals who exploded with passion. And then when it was over, they'd cry out, "Mama! Mama!" And then you'd have to slap them and say, "I ain't your mama and I never will be, but if you think you can muster the energy, I'd happily take another ride.
Tim: I just hit puberty.
Impresario: *bleep*

Prock: But robots always turn on us.
Joyce Mandrake: Says who?
Prock: Says the "Robots Always Turn on Us" mural.

Tim: You need to ask yourself, why am I rampaging?
Wombat: Uh, cause Wombat like rampaging. And stealing. Must steal. I mean, rampaging not pay very well.

Prock: But I'm not crazy.
Impresario: Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, baby.
Frantic: Nope, it's also a stripper my daddy used to let sleep over. Ohh, Mary Ann Denial. You are likely dead.

Muscleman: Robots? Holy crap.
Tim: Yeah, what did you think was happening?
Muscleman: No time to think! Now, to think about what to do.

Paul the Robotherapist: But ask yourselves, which one amongst you hasn't given us a secret we can tell? Which one among you is safe to reveal their true selves?
Concierge: My accent hides it, but I'm a stone-cold bitch.
Impresario: I don't love my mamma. Enough.
Frantic: I'm severely mentally ill.
Perfect Man: I worry that I might be too perfect.
Old Lady: I collect glass elephants. And murder hobos.
General: I only became a general because I watched General Hospital.

Tim: The robots are malfunctioning.
Impresario: I'm about to malfunction my lunch. if you know what I mean.
Tim: Again, who wouldn't know what you mean?


Newscaster: ...has us wondering what the supposed superhero team the Awesomes will do next. And by "wondering" I mean "waiting," and by "do next," I mean "royally screw up and make themselves look like idiots." And by "idiots," I mean...

Commentator: And when I think of all the greatness that Mr. Awesome has brought to this land--this world--and how his name is being... how do you put this delicately? Crapped on like you've got the *bleep* after scarfing down a diseased Mexican dinner. It makes me sad.

Dr. Malocchio: Do you have it?
Secret Mole: No, but I'm getting closer.
Dr. Malocchio: Close is for horseshoes, hand grenades, and three-alarm chili. I despise chili.

Prock: You can't keep doing things like this. Didn't you hear anything I said about us getting back on track as as heroes?
Muscleman: I was trying to listen, but it was very boring.

Muscleman: When you steal music, you steal from the artist. I was defending... Tori Amos? Why is a 9-year-old listening to Tori Amos?
Shoplifter: I'm going through some stuff.

Concierge: If you can describe the alien, I can cross-check the database and find their home planet.
Prock: Hmm, how best to describe it?
Gadget Gal: I would say it had a... healthy face, with a buxom overtone.
Frantic: To use the parlance of cows, I would say there was an udder quality.
Tim: It looked like the magazines under my dad's bed.
Impresario: Ah, just say it. It had tits for eyes.
Concierge: Gleeborian.
Tim: That's a funny name.
Concierge: It's a Syrenthian word.
Tim: What does it mean?
Concierge: "Tits for eyes."

Hotwire: How does he find them?
Prock: I blame Gregslist.
Hotwire: You mean Craigslist?
Prock: No, Gregslist. If you want something even Craig won't touch, you turn to Greg.
Greg: (walking in) Did someone call for Greg?
Everyone: Get out of here, Greg!
Greg: Oh, suit yourself. Hey, darling, if you ever want to make some real money, give me a ring.
Everyone: Get out of here, Greg!

Impresario: In the future, Muscleman, don't ask about the escape plan in front of those you are endeavoring to escape from!
Muscleman: Knew it as soon as I said it.
Frantic: If it makes you feel any better, we didn't have a plan.
Muscleman: That does make me feel a little better.

Bird Master: You were always smart as a whip.
Gadget Gal: And I know how to use one in the bedroom.

Frantic: So when my alien agent called and asked if I wanted to be a judge in the Miss Global Beauty Pageant, I said abso-*bleep*-lutely. Because there's three things I love. Boobs, and looking at 'em. Yee-hah! Boobs!


Muscleman: Oh, come on. We've been successful.
Concierge: Have we? Collateral damage, lawsuits, and destruction of beloved historical landmarks does not fit my definition of "success."
Muscleman: Well, lady, I guess you and I have different dictionaries. (pulls out "Baby's 1st Dictionary")
Concierge: You're an imbecile.
Muscleman: Well, you're a... (looks it up) duck.

Frantic: I don't understand. In the lottery commercials, people always win. I don't know what to believe anymore.

Gadget Gal: This generation cares too much about fun. In my day, fun was not having polio.

Frantic: Yeah! Think outside the box! Think outside the box! Everybody!
Everyone: Think outside the box! Think outside the box!
Prock: Guys! What did I say about group chants?
Everyone: We don't have to do it every time Frantic starts one.
Prock: Thank you.

Prock: Do you not like Hotwire?
Muscleman: I like her, but... well, I like her butt. It's the rest of her I don't... trust.

Muscleman: Get your paws off of me, you damned dirty mongoose.

Prock: The Gopher King!
Muscleman: Wait! Are you sure he's not Badger Man or the Evil Weasel?
Concierge: Badger Man's dead and the Evil Weasel only burrows for good, remember?
Gadget Gal: I know I shouldn't say this, but they all look the same to me.

Hotwire: Prock, I found it. It's right next to the anti-Irish ray.
Prock: Uh, yeah, that belonged to Gadget Gal back in the day. Different times.

The Super-Hero Awards Part 1[edit]

Frantic: Red carpet, red carpet! I am like a bull, except when I see red, I do not get mad. I get fabulous!

Frantic: I'm Frantic, pretty much the fastest man alive and currently the most popular member of the Awesomes. And this lovely lady is Gadget Gal.
Gadget Gal: I'm here because he told me there would be pudding.
Frantic: You will get this pudding when this is over! Now smile and be TV-friendly for once.

Concierge: Isn't it weird for the nominee to also work the red carpet?
Prock: Frantic said if I didn't let him do it, he would murder me until I was dead.

Dr. Malocchio: Now, to get this ray downstairs. (calls) Hello, I need some help with my luggage. How many bags? Umm... one, but it's not really a bag. It's more of a ray gun. But not like an evil ray gun, like a regular one. How many guys will it take? I should have thought this through. Is fifty too many? Yeah, I thought so. It sounded high when I said it. Let's say 48 guys. Ah, thank you. (hangs up) It begins. (laughs maniacally, the phone rings) Hello? Yes, now. Did I not say now? Yeah, I need it right now.

Frantic: One of tonight's most anticipated moments is a musical tribute to the heroes of the 1980s. I'm joined now by two of that decade's most effective heroes, Shoulderpad Jones and the Stockbroker. I bet you two can't wait to reconnect with all the other heroes from your era.
The Stockbroker: I just like to reconnect with some cocaine.

Prock: Thanks for coming, Black Irish.
Black Irish: (gravelly voiced) Yeah, I sensed you guys were looking for me.
Impresario: No, that can't be your real voice.
Black Irish: You got a problem with it?
Impresario: No. But you should.
Prock: Impresario, now is not the time.
Impresario: It's never the time to leave asthma untreated.
Black Irish: Stop talking or I'm gone.
Impresario: Gone to the doctor to get your throat checked out?

Hotwire: You lied to me, too. You told me this was for the betterment of mankind.
Dr. Malocchio: As a rule, don't listen to people who say things like "the betterment of mankind." On average they're usually *bleep*.

Dr. Malocchio: Hello, I'm Dr. Malocchio. As of ten minutes ago, the only people with superpowers are me and my henchmen. I'd say make your peace with God, but... I'm the only God now. So get some sleep, I'll see you guys tomorrow. It's going to be a busy day.

The Super-Hero Awards Part 2[edit]

Prock: These boxes are going to the White House. So are we.
Impresario: Oh, I am not traveling in a box.
Prock: It's the only way.
Impresario: Well, put me down as fussy about that.
Frantic: And put me down as excited. When I was young, my parents often made me sleep in a box. One time, they even buried it.

Dr. Malocchio: Piece of advice: don't have kids.
Melting Henchman: I can't. You see, I was in this terrible nuclear accident...
Dr. Malocchio: Did I ask for your life story? Because I don't recall asking for your life story.
Melting Henchman: Sorry.

Prock: Wow. Thanks, Gadget Gal. I've spent my whole life thinking I wasn't half the hero my dad was.
Gadget Gal: Well, you're wrong. You're exactly half the man your dad was.

Dr. Malocchio: Bravo, Muscleman. You have done excellent work. (Muscleman laughs) Hey, what's so funny?
Muscleman: It's just that I'm about to say something for the first time that people have been saying to me my whole life.
Dr. Malocchio: What's that?
Muscleman: You're an idiot.

Season 2[edit]

Hotwire's Funeral[edit]

Dr. Malocchio: To my secretary Janice, who's always been there in my time of need, I leave the Malocchio Ray, my three-ton laser capable of destroying an entire city.
Janice: Giant laser? That'll definitely fit in my studio apartment.

Dr. Malocchio: And please donate my body to science. But only if it's evil science.

Dr. Malocchio: My son, you must safeguard this serum at all cost. And it is up to you, my dear Giuseppi, to keep it out of the wrong hands, to make sure no one uses it to become the monster I turned into many years ago and have remained for the greater part of my life, although if I'm being honest, the monster years were the fun ones.

Prock: You can't just put on a suit and start saving people.
Concierge: So you're upset he stopped those criminals?
Prock: "Alleged" criminals. That's the problem with these vigilantes. They jump to conclusions when we don't even have all the facts.
Tim: They were pointing a gun at her.
Impresario: And one of them said, "Don't mess with me. I'm a criminal."
Prock: Until we have all the facts, we just don't know.
Frantic: Yeah, maybe she's the one who was attacking them.
Prock: Exactly.
Frantic: Or maybe it didn't even happen, and we're not even watching the news, and it's just tiny people putting on a play inside our TV.
Prock: Well, no, it's not that. It's never that.

Gadget Gal: Well, I think this Metal Fella is a tall drink of water. He's like a hard, shiny Burt Lancaster. I'll tell you after what I'd like to do with him, he'd better hope that suit is rust-resistant.
Impresario: If you're saying what I think you're saying, he'd probably take off the suit first.
Gadget Gal: No, leave it on.

Prock: I can't believe we're going to Hotwire's memorial. I don't know what to expect.
Muscleman: I expect really delicious cookies.
Prock: Why would you think that?
Muscleman: What else would you do at a mmm-Oreo?
Prock: Okay, it's not an "mmm-Oreo," it's a memorial. We're going to honor the memory of our lost friend.
Muscleman: Got it. I will bring my own cookies.
Prock: Or go an hour without cookies.

Prock: You brought a date to your girlfriend's funeral?
Perfect Man: It's what Hotwire could've wanted.

Prock: It may seem nice now, but when vigilantes flaunt the law, people can get hurt. Now let's run into this store and wave guns around.

Prock: Hey, maybe we should focus on vacuuming after we fix the huge holes in the wall?
Impresario: Yeah, that's the problem. Not that Prock turned Melacchio Jr. evil or that Prock gave up the code to disable our shield. It's that I'm vacuuming!

People vs. Perfect Man[edit]

Perfect Man: Did somebody say "perfect"?
Prock: Were you just hiding behind a curtain for an hour waiting for someone to say "perfect"?
Perfect Man: I've come to offer my reinstatement as a member of the Awesomes. I think we could really benefit from having someone on the team like me.
Prock: He was waiting behind here for an hour.

Prock: I've prepared these cardboard cutouts... (Perfect Man disintegrates them) Why?
Perfect Man: If there's no jury, they can't find me guilty.
Prock: They can bring in another jury.
Perfect Man: Another jury? It's like the legal system has thought of everything.
Prock: Also, those aren't cutouts you can just buy in a store. It took me like a day to make those. Know what? Never mind.

Perfect Man: Well, Ms. Stone, hmm, nice try. But everyone knows I would never trust an Italian. They have crime in their blood, crime and tomato sauce.

Hotwire: I got to rewatch Swingers or something.

Prock: And is it not true that you got your diploma not in psychology, but in pie-cology, the study of pies? And due to a typo in your diploma, you've been pretending to be a psychologist ever since?
Dr. Johansson: It's true! It's true! I'm a fraud. But my pies are delightful. You really must try them.

First Guard: Do we really need ten guards watching Speed Reader? I mean, his power is like... speed reading.
Second Guard: Gotta respect the schedule.

Destination Deading[edit]

Dr. Malocchio: The last thing I remember is the explosion and being pulled up to Heaven.
Mr. Awesome: Heaven? You? (laughs) I'm sorry. You thought you were going to Heaven?
Dr. Malocchio: Okay, I know I wasn't the greatest guy. But I once did a 5K run for breast cancer.

Frantic: You guys are nuts! Weddings are the best! There's free cake, dancing, and you get to see two of your cousins live happily ever after.

Muscleman: David Apelstein. He's a chiropractor from Apesylvania, the island nation filled with highly intelligent apes.
Perfect Man: I might know him. Where'd he go to school?
Muscleman: Ape Elementary, Ape High School, and then Monkey College.
Perfect Man: Montclair College?
Muscleman: No, Monkey College.
Perfect Man: Oh, then I don't know him.

Muscleman: (talking about Catalina Island) Why tie yourself down?
Prock: Because I have a girlfriend.
Frantic: Yes, but what happens in C.I. stays in C.I. Oh, wait. No, that was before they got sued by Las Vegas. No, I'm sorry, Prock. If you want to cheat on your girlfriend, what happens in C.I. is fair game to mention in all other locations.
Prock: No one calls it C.I.
Frantic: I do.

Muscleman: They should have had you plan the wedding.
Concierge: Always the guest, never the planner.

Tony: Hey, I'm Tony with Pizza Pizza Pizza Pizza Pizza. Pizza Pizza merged with Pizza Pizza Pizza.

Frantic: Why were those apes making you feel so bad about yourself?
Prock: Because that's what happens at weddings.

Tim Goes to School[edit]

Muscleman: Dude, if you tell Jaclyn, she will totally never, ever forgive you.
Prock: I thought you said it wasn't my fault.
Muscleman: I know that. You know that. But women don't think like us. They are vicious, evil creatures. You see this scar?
Prock: Oh, wow. A woman did that to you?
Muscleman: No. When I was a little kid, I fell on a rake. That a woman put there.

Joyce Mandrake: This morning the President signed a new bill into law. The Superhero Underage Education Act. It mandates that any superhero who is of school age must be enrolled in school and maintain a B average.
Muscleman: Man, I'm glad they didn't have that law when I was a, um, smaller me.
Concierge: You mean, a kid?
Muscleman: Kid! That's it. It was right on the tip of my... licking muscle.
Concierge: Wow.

Tim: So let me get this straight, all six of you are coming with me?
Muscleman: Uh, actually seven. Nope. Nope. Six. I did Gadget Gal twice.
Gadget Gal: Many have.

Impresario: I'll be the art teacher.
Concierge: Why can't you be the janitor?
Impresario: Oh, give me strength, Dr. King. I will be the art teacher because I have a Masters Degree in Design. And I will not be the janitor because I don't have a Masters Degree in English.

Prock: Well, at least Harry was able to reconcile with the Hendersons.

Pablo: Hey, nice backpack, Dora the Explorer.

Bruce: Can you reach your books or do you need a boost, Tiny Tim?

Muscleman: Well, I am killing it in school. I mean, at least in gym. Not so much math, history, social studies, English, lunch.

The Awesomes' Awesome Show[edit]

Concierge: I cannot believe you forgot where you parked the jet.
Muscleman: Hey, at least I remember important things. Like my wedding anniversary.
Prock: You're not married.
Muscleman: Oh, right. Forgot.

Frantic: Wait a second, it seems like once again something I took for a positive is revealing itself to be a negative. Curse you, switcheroos!

Prock: I'm sorry, was that story supposed to be helpful?
Gadget Gal: It was supposed to be a story. Do whatever the hell you want with it.

Muscleman: Yeah, I took an improv class in fourth grade. And I'll never forget the old improv rule. Yes and... something. I can never remember what goes with yes.

Frantic: Oh, come on, Prock, it'll be great! Plus, television is the perfect medium to show the world the real me. In regards to the real me, when would we start? I need a nose job, fake contacts, and that plastic surgery that makes you look like a cat. Rawr.

Prock: Can you promise this will be classy and dignified and not some cheap reality show?
Lola Gold: Here's how classy it'll be. People will put it in their Netflix queue, but they're never going to watch it.
Everyone: Ooh.

Mr. Awesome: Relax, Malocchio. This antidote contains everything wholesome and innocent in the world. Rainbows, cotton candy, children's laughter, panda bears. But mainly chemicals.

Gadget Gal: Ew, fish penises. It's like a Ukrainian delicatessen.

Made Man[edit]

Impresario: Stressed out at work? You want to kill your father and sleep with your mother.
Dr. Romano: Well, you just told me about a dream where your mother was a giant pillow that tried to smother you. Then you were at your mother's funeral, opened the coffin, and it was you inside. And then you killed your father and slept with your mother.
Impresario: That dream could mean anything.

Impresario: And yeah, sometimes it does bother me. I mean, it's embarrassing. I conjure up a tank to run over a bad guy, and the tank tells me to wipe crumbs from my mouth. On the other hand, I did have those crumbs on my mouth so I would have been embarrassed either way.

Gadget Gal: Tim, be a dear and fetch another sixer from the upstairs fridge. And grab one for yourself.
Tim: Umm, I'm 11 years old.
Gadget Gal: So? When I was your age, I was working three jobs to support an Irish-Catholic family of 15 people. Taking a long swig from the bottle at the end of the day might have been the only thing that kept me alive.
Tim: Heh. Actually, while moderate drinking...
Gadget Gal: I didn't ask for your life story, kid. Just get the beers.

Dr. Romano: Didn't you have any hobbies as a boy? Sports you played?
Impresario: Oh, no, Momma said sports were a first-class ticket to life in a wheelchair.
Dr. Romano: Video games?
Impresario: Momma said games were just a slippery slope to sports.
Dr. Romano: Puzzles?
Impresario: A hop and a skip to games. And I was not allowed to hop or skip.

Impresario: Oh, I'll pass.
Frantic: Suit yourself. More stuffed crust pizza for the rest of us. Ha ha.
Concierge: This is a fancy restaurant. They're not gonna have stuffed crust pizza.
Frantic: Um, it's an "I-talian" restaurant. I think it'd be pretty embarrassing if they didn't.
Muscleman: I'm gonna order gabagool so I can finally find out what it is.

Concierge: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Frantic: Joseph Gordon-Levitt?
Concierge: No.
Frantic: Ha ha. Joseph, Jesus' dad. That makes more sense.

Prock: Okay, listen up. These are are our streets and these cock-a-roaches think they can come in and take over. Well, it's time we made them an offer they can't refuse. Because you don't bring a knife to a gunfight, and you don't bring a gun to a knife fight.
Frantic: No time for a speech! You're mixing genres.

Secret Santa[edit]

Muscleman: It's nice to see somebody standing up for my people's fight against the Maccabees.
Concierge: You're a Seleucid?
Muscleman: No. Jewish. My grandfather changed his name to Muscleman from Muscle Manheimer.

Gadget Gal: Your grandfather had a strong tongue.
Muscleman: Gross.
Gadget Gal: Some other muscles, too.
Concierge: A penis is not a muscle.
Gadget Gal: It's not? Okay, then, just tongue.

Metal Fella: You didn't get refundable tickets?
Prock: Who gets those?
Metal Fella: I don't know. I don't even fly commercial. I have a rocket suit.

Dr. Malocchio: What do you want this year?
Mr. Awesome: I don't know if I really need anything.
Dr. Malocchio: But what do you want in your deepest, darkest fantasy?
Mr. Awesome: Amazon gift card!

Tim: I'm 11. I'm not a little kid.
Impresario: Yeah, but you're Asian. That makes you look younger.
Tim: Okay, that's racist.
Impresario: Hey, everyone knows the saying: black don't crack, white is tight, and Asians look younger.
Muscleman: I've never heard that last one before.
Gadget Gal: Or the second one.
Impresario: Well, it's usually "White is terrible," but I didn't want to offend you guys.

Lady Malocchio: Mm. How good is this? It's like chocolate, but you drink it. And instead of regular, it's warm.
Giuseppe Malocchio Jr.: Yeah, Mom, it's hot chocolate.

Muscleman: Get off my sled!
Fake Santa/Animal Control: It's too late, Santa.
Prock: Yeah, stop being so anti-Semitic and let us kill you!

Prock: It's over. All that's left is for you to tell all your kids to surrender.
Fake Santa/Animal Control: Never!
Muscleman: Or we're taking you to midnight Mass.
Fake Santa/Animal Control: Oh, well, then I'll do it. I don't have an hour for that.

Mr. Stone: You bastard! You killed Santa!
Prock: Sir, the thing is...
Mr. Stone: Ha, I'm just messin' with you. I'm glad the fat slob's dead. I'm very conservative and I've always felt like Santa took the religion out of the holiday. So personally, I think you're a hero!


Prock: This is a very important technology lab. Dr. Turfenpeltz works here. The former chief scientist of the Awesomes.
Muscleman: So that's how this works. When your mentor's in trouble, we drop everything. But when my gymnastics coach needs money for the Kickstarter, you refused to pay $40 for a hat.

Prock: I was able to track Whiskey Dick's heat signature. After leaving here, he landed in Dusselforf, then transported to Madrid.
Muscleman: Oh, my God. He's in... Florida.
Tim: Well, technically, Germany and Spain.

Concierge: You didn't bring anything?
Frantic: I got superspeed, if I need something I'll just run home, get it, and run back.
Concierge: You can run across the ocean?
Frantic: Hey, Prock, can I borrow your toothpaste?

Tim: Robots can get drunk?
Gadget Gal: And do ecstasy. You should see some of the robots I party with.

Prock: But what about our greatest powers being between our ears?
Dr. Turfenpeltz: It turns out, the greatest power is... either flying or super strength, I can't decide yet. But being smart, it's not even in the top ten.

Perfect Man: Spalding, you're my only friend.

Pablo: Whatever, Donkey Kong.

Day of Awesomes Part 1[edit]

Doctor: I know you use your voice professionally.
Giuseppe Malocchio Jr.: Yes, for evil.
Doctor: Oh, I thought you meant you were a singer or something.

Perfect Man: Do I get a balloon?
Concierge: No.
Perfect Man: Why not?
Concierge: Because you're a fugitive from the law, and you're *bleep* crazy.
Perfect Man: That's ridiculous. If I were crazy, would I be best friends with a basketball?

Lady Malocchio: Can you believe she's not dead anymore?
Giuseppe Malocchio Jr.: I know. I'm so happy.
Lady Malocchio: First I have two kids, then one, then two again. How can I keep track?

Gadget Gal: Well, if you ever want a real woman, call me.
Perfect Man: Oh, Spaldetta's a real woman, all right. All curves.
Tim: Because she's a ball.
Perfect Man: This guy knows what I'm talking about.

Frantic: Are you the monkey from Friends?

Prock: I don't understand what's going on. Why would Jaclyn be at Malocchio Jr.'s lair? She didn't seem to be working in a professional capacity. Something about the way she tried to claw my eyes out.

Day of Awesomes Part 2[edit]

Concierge: Where are we?
Prock: It's a portal! To another world!
Gadget Gal: Which world?
Prock: I don't know!
Frantic: Mattress World?
Prock: Probably not.
Muscleman: Boy Meets World?
Prock: That's not a world!
Muscleman: I hope I get to meet Mr. Feeny.

Mr. Awesome: How do you feel?
Dr. Malocchio: I'm going to be honest with you. I'm still evil. What? I don't get credit with you for being honest?
Mr. Awesome: I don't know what to tell you. You just told me you're evil..
Dr. Malocchio: I can't win with you.

Mr. Awesome: Well, I've tried everything, but nothing works. I guess I'll just shoot you into the sun.
Dr. Malocchio: What?
Mr. Awesome: I'm sorry, Dr. Malocchio. I know it's not your fault you turned evil. You're an evil villain, what do you want me to do?
Dr. Malocchio: But I hate the sun.
Mr. Awesome: I have no choice.
Dr. Malocchio: I sunburn easily.
Mr. Awesome: Wear a hat.
Dr. Malocchio: Do you have any sunscreen? My dermatologist is not going to like this.

Mr. Awesome: I know how I can turn you good again.
Dr. Malocchio: How's that?
Mr. Awesome: Blood.
Dr. Malocchio: This is a weird day.

Gadget Gal: I am sticky all over. Reminds me of the time...
Tim: I so don't want to hear the end of that sentence.

Lola Gold: But why are we even walking? Couldn't Evil Impresario just conjure something up?
Elliot Levy-Apelstein: Yeah, big man. How about a a plane? Or a magic carpet?
Pablo: Or a giant bird. With boobs. Ooh. Or maybe just flying boobs. Or they don't even have to fly. Just boobs. Yeah, can you make boobs?

Season 3[edit]

Seaman's Revenge[edit]

Dr. Malocchio: Oh, no, being evil is the worse. I can give you some evil tips, though. When you strangle someone, hold your hands like this.

Frantic: Ooh, oh this is just the best. So much better than the theme park I went to as a kid. "Wet Place." That was just a wet washcloth in the middle of a cornfield.
Tim: Where did you grow up again?
Frantic: In the middle of a cornfield.

Gadget Gal: If it was up to me, we'd lock them all up. I don't trust anyone who breathes with gills.
Concierge: Has a fish ever hurt you, Gadget Gal?
Gadget Gal: Not yet, but that doesn't mean I'm letting down my guard.

Concierge: Technically, whales aren't fish. They're mammals.
Frantic: Technically, you aren't fun to be around. You are a bummer.

Perfect Man: And them Impresario told me Baywatch called and they want my Speedo back.

Muscleman: You know, I read dolphin fishing is killing all the tuna.
Tim: It's the other way around.
Muscleman: Sorry. Killing all of the tuna is dolphin fishing, I read.
Tim: Great.
Muscleman: I didn't read it, I saw it on TV.

Gadget Gal: I remember Seaman. He was always trying to make time with me. I found Seaman very distasteful.
Prock: Sea-Man?
Impresario: Tell me, Gadget Gal, was he ever in your hair?
Gadget Gal: Seaman was impossible to get out of my hair.
Concierge: So, he was always on your back?
Gadget Gal: If he wasn't on my back, Seaman was on my face. When I was younger, Seaman was everywhere.
Prock: Guys, enough.
Muscleman: Did you ever put him in Tupperware and throw him in the freezer to see if you could turn him into a big ice cube? (everyone stares)
Gadget Gal: Why would anyone do that to Seaman?
Concierge: Yes, why?
Muscleman: I tried to join in the fun and I really didn't.
Impresario: Yes you did, and when we get home, we are buying new Tupperware.
Prock: This is what happens when you start wordplay in front of Muscleman.

Gadget Gal: Ugh, his sense of humor.
Impresario: Would you call it "crusty"?
Gadget Gal: I call Seaman very crusty.
Impresario: Ahh, thank you.

Muscleman: I hope we're having sushi.
Seaman: Down here we call sushi "friends and family."
Muscleman: Oh, sorry. In that case, I hope we're having friends and family for dinner.

Hotwire: We did not communicate when we were a couple.
Perfect Man: Really was a perfect relationship.

Muscleman: Sorry, Charlie.

Prock: Seaman. But where is he?
Gadget Gal: There's only one way to find Seaman in the dark. A black light.

Gadget Gal: Make sure his skin stays wet. There's nothing worse than dried Seaman.
Seaman: It's "Seaman." Holy mackerel, Gadget Gal, you've known me for 50 years.
Gadget Gal: Oh, it's true, I've seen a lot of Seaman in my time.

Villain-Tines Day[edit]

Mr. Awesome: Perfect Man! How are you?
Perfect Man: Good. I'm much less of a dick these days.

Impresario: What's the matter with you guys? You're gay, and you're probably gay.
Concierge: I am not gay. I am practical.

Prock: I can't believe I spent all my savings on a magical date with a robot.
Muscleman: Tell me about it. I just bought a condo with a forklift.
Perfect Man: Hey, one time I fell in love with a volleyball.
Muscleman: Right. That time you went crazy.
Perfect Man: Oh, I forgot about that. I was actually talking a different volleyball.

Frantic: Like that lady in the Robin Williams documentary.

Dr. Malocchio: Like that movie Gravity.

Les Miserawesomes[edit]

Tim: Do you guys know anything about musicals?
Concierge: Yes. Musicals are a combination of acting, singing, and dancing, that tend to diminish the quality of all three disciplines. People who like them tend to be on the dumb side.

Concierge: Everything is sung in a musical. It's equal parts inefficient and stupid.
Frantic: You said that about me once.
Concierge: And?

Mademoiselle Hunchback: You did not save me any bread?
Impresario: I didn't know that was my job.
Mademoiselle Hunchback: I am sleeping with you, so give me what I want. Right now, I want bread.

Perfect Man: A lot of people said I shouldn't help rebuild Paris. I was told that you were arrogant, uppity, unappreciative. But you reminded me of someone I love: me.

Luxem-Borg: Did you hear about the helicopter that crashed in a Belgian cemetery?
Tim: No.
Luxem-Borg: The rescue teams have found over two hundred and sixty dead people. Why wasn't Jesus born in Belgium?
Concierge: Why?
Luxem-Borg: God couldn't find three wise men. Have you ever tried Belgian kissing?
Tim: Uh, no.
Luxem-Borg: It's like French kissing, but more Flemish.

Gadget Gal: (singing) They want us gone, what do I care? These Frogs can kiss my derriere.

Awesomes for Hire[edit]

Perfect Man: I'm going to miss this place. Or not. I'm not really in touch with my feelings.

Concierge: Something here does not smell right.
Gadget Gal: Might be this. I think of my jar of brassiere wax has turned.
Concierge: Oh dear lord.

Dr. Jill Stein-Awesome-Kaplan: Harry, I remember when you and Jeremy would have sleepovers in those bunk beds. If these walls could talk.
Muscleman: I bet they'd say, "Why so many fart contests?"

Dr. Jill Stein-Awesome-Kaplan: So your father, who thinks he's the center of the universe just because he has the power to redirect the orbit of the earth and make the world physically revolve around him, throws his son, who worships him, out on his ass and his son, as always, runs right back to his mother's arms and never stops to think that maybe it's time he grew up, took off his superhero costume, and stopped chasing an empty dream!

Dr. Jill Stein-Awesome-Kaplan: Isn't he so much better than Mr. Awesome? With his muscles and his veins popping out of his neck, throbbing with testosterone, just waiting to tear my clothes off and have me right there on the floor--I hate him!
Impresario: Well, I... better start unpacking. Both my suitcase and everything you just said.

Concierge: Gadget Gal, no one wants to buy your old junk.
Impresario: What she's trying to say is your garage sale sign is missing a "B."

Spokesmen Spokesman: It's the Awesomes, America's favorite unemployed superhero team.
Prock: We're not unemployed. We're independent contractors.
Spokesmen Spokesman: What does that even mean?
Concierge: On a tax level, it's far more beneficial. We can deduct, like, everything.

Dr. Jill Stein-Awesome-Kaplan: I'm going to show you an inkblot, and you tell me what you see.
Muscleman: Umm, an inkblot.
Hotwire: A butterfly.
Impresario: The cat after Muscleman juggled it to death.
Concierge: Break-dancing skeleton.
Tim: Alan Moore's The Watchmen.
Gadget Gal: The pubic hair of Lillian Gish.

Impresario: Muscleman, what is wrong with your hearing?
Muscleman: You know, I think I got water in my ear when we fought Seaman.
Impresario: That was two weeks ago.
Muscleman: To Mexico? Sign me up.

Indiana Johnson and the Nazi Granddaughters[edit]

Standerson: What made you decide to risk everything and run for President?
Mr. Awesome: Standerson, it's simple. Freedom is not just a word, freedom is a thing, a thing that is also a word, a word thing. That's what I'm fighting for.
Standerson: Well said, Mr. Awesome.

Muscleman: Guys, I solved the pee smell. Turns out the toilet I've been using is the book return slot.

Perfect Man: Look, if you ever need anything, like money, I can teach you how to squeeze coal into diamonds.
Prock: It doesn't work when I do it.
Perfect Man: Right, I forgot you're weak.

Indiana Johnson: You've aged well, Gadget Gal.
Gadget Gal: My secret is Pilates and a rejuvenation ray.

Muscleman: So, an archaeologist. What's it like working with dinosaur bones?
Indiana Johnson: That's a paleontologist. I'm an archaeologist.
Frantic: Ooh, I love archaeology. What's your favorite mineral?
Indiana Johnson: That's a geologist.
Frantic: Oh, you fix people's gums and then you buy them fancy clothes?
Indiana Johnson: That's a periodontist and a personal shopper, respectively; what I do...
Gadget Gal: He's a grave robber.
Indiana Johnson: Close enough.

Indiana Johnson: Okay, guys, looks like we're going to the Amazon.
Muscleman: Oh, I love their two-day shipping.

Mr. Awesome: Perfect Man, got a sec? I have a rally tomorrow. Which tie do you think looks more Presidential? Blue with red stripes or napalm with eagles?

Mrs. Sullivan: Oh, no, do not tell me you are going skiing. You're going to wreck both your damn legs.
Impresario: We're not skiing, Mama. We're just crossing a lava flow in a booby-trapped dungeon temple.
Mrs. Sullivan: All right, just so long as it's not skiing. You know that's how we lost Sonny Bono.

Muscleman: Thank God we got a dinosaur expert with us.
Indiana Johnson: I'm an archaeologist!
Muscleman: Oh, right, you're the rock guy. Hey, what's the deal with sand?

Concierge: I hope you learned your lesson. You're all getting six months detention.
Vasquez: Seriously, detention? They murdered me, yeah, let's just give them detention. That sounds fair; that's how much my life is worth.
Mackenzie Hitler: Uh, complain much? You're alive now, stop yapping.

Joseph Goebbels: Seriously, I think people really like Nazis. Everyone's always comparing stuff to us on Twitter.

Prock: But on the bright side, we did manage to sideline the return of the world's great villains.
Muscleman: Right, teen girls.
Prock: Actually, I meant Hitler, Goebbels, and Himmler.
Frantic: Oh, those were the names of the dinosaurs?
Prock: The Nazis.
Frantic: That was my next guess.

The Dames of Danger[edit]

Gadget Gal: Thanks again for designing these dresses, Impresario.
Impresario: Well, what was I going to do, let you pick something out? Two women who think haute couture is when the dressing room at K-Mart gets a little sweaty?

Muscleman: Hey, who's this sexy lady and what have you done with Concierge?
Concierge: Oh, you.
Muscleman: Seriously, what have you done with Concierge?

Concierge: You can't go.
Frantic: Whaaat? But I had Impresario make this tux for me.
Concierge: It's for women only.
Gadget Gal: Although I've always considered gay men the women of the male community.
Muscleman: Yeah, I want to go. Women only; that's sexist. Men want to look at girls' butts, too.
Concierge: We're not going there to look at girls' butts.
Muscleman: Oh, you're a breast man.
Concerige: We're going to support other women.
Muscleman: Oh, so you're a bra man.
Tim: That doesn't make any sense.
Muscleman: It makes a little bit of sense.

Dr. Jill Stein-Awesome-Kaplan: Behind every great woman is another great woman. Behind that great woman is a third great woman. And behind that woman, perhaps a man who is transitioning to be a woman.

Hotwire: Mom, you're in the Dames of Danger?
Lady Malocchio: I can't tell you, baby, 'cause it's a secret. That's the first thing they told me when I joined the Dames of Danger!

Muscleman: All the girls went to some stupid award show. Like we get it, you're women, here's your prize for not having a penis.
Perfect Man: Cool, is the prize shaped like a penis?
Prock: No, it is not.
Muscleman: Right. 'Cause the Pee Buddy Award is shaped like a penis.
Prock: What do you think the Peabody Award is for?
Muscleman: Is it not about urinating with friends?
Prock: No, it is not.
Muscleman & Perfect Man: What?!?

Musclegirl: Hey, Mr. Danger, you're gonna need to reimburse the place for the toilet. That thing is done.
Mr. Danger: Jesus, again?

Muscleman: Royal flush, baby.
Impresario: Uh, we're playing Uno.

Lady Malocchio: We should be celebrating our womanhood, especially on the night of the "Chick" Woman Magazine Awards.
Hotwire: Chic, mom.
Lady Malocchio: (holds up a purse) Oh, thank you, baby. I bought it at Marshall's.

Hotwire: And what if I wanted to start a family, huh? Who's gonna save the world when you have to stop to breastfeed?
Musclegirl: Lactation Lady does it, and she has triplets.

Joyce Mandrake: Good work, Hotwire. I guess in the rock, puking, seduction, puking beats seduction.

Musclegirl: I hope you have a son and he looks like Prock and I can marry him in 19 years.
Hotwire: Okay, I will definitely be calling the police in advance.

The Awesomes Reloaded[edit]

Prock: How did we get so lucky?
Muscleman: You mean, to cheat so much in high school and never get caught?
Prock: I didn't cheat in high school.
Muscleman: Well, I cheated off of you, so you were complicit.
Prock: Good word.
Muscleman: They say it on The People's Court all the time, but I have no idea what it means.

The GayFather[edit]

Reporter: I know you're a great superhero, but what can you say to assure us you understand the problems of regular Americans?
Mr. Awesome: What can I say; nothing. I'd never be able to understand the petty problems of people without powers. I save the world, you do God knows what. I can't even believe you call them problems if I'm being totally honest, right? (everyone stares) I feel like I'm phrasing that all wrong.

Mr. Awesome: I don't know how to deal with these parasites.
Prock: Well, for one thing, I wouldn't call the voters parasites.
Mr. Awesome: Hm, I see your point. Danny, kill the new campaign poster.

Perfect Man: If it will make you feel better, you can watch me shower.
Concierge: That offer would probably mean more to him if you didn't make it to all of us all the time.
Perfect Man: And yet Gadget Gal is the only one who ever takes me up on it.
Gadget Gal: And it still isn't getting old.
Perfect Man: Thank you, friend.

Frantic: Even the fastest man on Earth can't run away from heartache. Oh, the irony!

Gadget Gal: The best way to get over one man is to get under another one or in front of him, however it works with you fellows.

Tim: What's the Gay Mafia?
Impresario: The world's first openly gay super villain team.
Tim: Good for them, except the villain part.
Impresario: They're into all kinds of shady rackets. Counterfeiting antiques, blackmailing closeted celebrities, interior design.

Gadget Gal: (entering a gay club) Dear God, it looks like Walt Disney threw up all over the Copacabana.

Perfect Man: Oh no, my dream bag is out of smells.

The GayFather: Had a change of heart, Frantic?
Frantic: I've decided it's not fair to make people come out before they're ready.
Impresario: Or to, you know, poison them to death.
Frantic: People should be able to decide for themselves whether they want to be out of the closet.
Impresario: Or be alive or dead.

Gadget Gal: All right, time to beat up some guys. Oh wait, that sounded bad even for me. All right, let's beat up some men who happen to be gay but we're doing it to stop their plan.
Hotwire: That sounded better.

The GayFather: Like a straight man just finding out about skinny ties, you're too late, Awesomes.

Impresario: It feels pretty good to stop a bad guy again, even if I did have to use my mama as a prophylactic.

Christopher: We learned it from The Goldfinch.

The GayFather: I'm asking for Jane Fonda from Agnes of God and you're giving me Jane Fonda from Monster-in-Law.

The GayFather: I haven't seen that much Spandex since the Solid Gold Christmas Special, which I watched unironically.

Super(hero) Tuesday[edit]

Impresario: If one of you thinks there's even a tiny chance that it is your hand currently up my butt, please retract it!

Prock: Are you saying the fact that my dad is being nice to me proves he's evil?
Muscleman: That is what I was saying, but now that I see how sad it's making you, I'm going to try to pretend that I was saying something else, but I can't, uh, come up with, uh, anything. Uh, sorry, buddy.

Prock: I don't know if any of you have been paying attention, but we're second rate heroes.
Frantic: Second rate? That's two rates better than the meat we used to eat as kids.

Perfect Man: Don't you need me to knock down doors?
Mr. Awesome: On election day, you knock on doors. You don't knock them down.
Perfect Man: Well, I was definitely gonna do that wrong.

Lady Malocchio: Ghost husband? It's about time you showed up. I hope you're here to protect me and not haunt me, but either way it will be fun to have a spooky spirit around.
Dr. Malocchio: Okay, I am not a ghost, I'm alive and I need your help.
Lady Malocchio: Well, let's make sweet ghost love first and then we can discuss all of that later. Let's get you out of that sheet and into my sheets.
Dr. Malocchio: I'm not wearing a sheet because I'm not a ghost.

Lady Malocchio: Hello, daughter's soon-to-be baby daddy.
Prock: We should probably come up with something better to call me than that.
Lady Malocchio: How about Harold? That's a pretty name for a pretty boy.

Dr. Malocchio: How did you know where to find me?
Gadget Gal: I remembered that back when you were good and you used to help out The Awesomes, the first thing you would do after every mission was to run home to see your wife.
Tim: Ah, that's so sweet.
Gadget Gal: You always talked about how excited you were to have sex with her.
Impresario: Less sweet.
Gadget Gal: You would even talk about your favorite position.
Tim: That's enough.
Gadget Gal: The wet sailor.
Dr. Malocchio: Ah, the wet sailor.
Tim: Ah, please stop.
Gadget Gal: The fact is, you always put your family on top.

Muscleman: I spy something beginning with G.
Impresario: Gadget Gal.
Muscleman: You are good at this.
Impresario: It's the third time you've done her.
Gadget Gal: That ties you with Burt Lancaster.

The Final Showdown[edit]

Frantic: Oh, did I miss the gasp? Mind, why do you have to drift?

Muscleman: Yeah, you know the saying. "Dads are like assholes. Yours is one."
Prock: I haven't heard that saying.
Muscleman: It's pretty famous.

Lady Malocchio: You need to understand that everybody's not just heroes and villains. Look around this room. Hero. Weirdo. Hero eating a hero. Ex-villain, and possibly ghost husband. Another weirdo. Hero/traitor/hero/pregnant lady. Everybody's got a little something something.

Prock: Now, describe the container Perfect Man was trapped in.
Hotwire: About eight feet tall, window pane on the front, cold to the touch.
Muscleman: Sounds like my ex-wife.
Concierge: You don't have an ex-wife.

Dr. Malocchio: Would you eat a cookie if you were on a diet?
Prock: I would if it would save the world!
Lady Malocchio: I'd eat a cookie any day.

Mr. Awesome: The world wasn't going to support a hero who had multiple children out of wedlock.
Perfect Man: Tell that to the NBA.


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