
Mrs. Myers: Oh my God.



Flynn: Um...if you don't mind me buttin in, my sister had thyroid cancer.
Brenda: Oh, I'm so sorry. Wait a did you find out?
Flynn: Oh, your father. When they were handing out the gifts...Merry Christmas, I've got cancer! I guess there's no easy way to say it.

Claudia: You'd really send me to prison?
Brenda: Yeah, probably.

I cannot believe that you would use my father's cancer to manipulate me into giving up this interview. It's awful. Shameful. Shameful!


Hey Morris, I have a little tip on following someone. Where they go, you go.


Pope: You know, it might me a lot easier on your parents than you think.
Brenda: Why do you say that?
Pope: Because they're here right now, and they're giving out gifts.

No, it's my father. He's really sick. He's really sick. He just told me last night.


You know, as chief of police, I can take her places no one else can.

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