Foul and magical fumes bubbled out of the kettle, like the flatulence of a dragon on a demon-only diet.

It’s like he has this power over me—like I have an eating disorder and he’s a package of Oreo Double Stuff cookies.

Only cops and vampires have to have an invitation to enter.

May the IRS find that you deduct your pet sheep as an entertainment expense.

. . . You seem upset, Charlie. Is something wrong? Charlie: No, no, I’m okay, I just had to take directions from a mute beaver in a fez to get here, it’s unsettling.

The fact that 'A Dirty Job' has comedy and supernatural horror in it, that both are woven in and out of it with a whimsical tone, despite the fact that it's about death, makes it hard to characterize with standard genre labels - but I have no problem with that. I'd call it a funny story about death, and leave it at that.

Oh, we are but soft and squishy bags of mortality rolling in a bin of sharp circumstance, leaking life until we collapse, flaccid, into our own despair.