Transcription

Fred: I _refuse_ to let that crotchety old crackpot poke and prod me, even in the name of defending me from Trent!
Fooker: Aw, c'mon, Fred...

Fooker: You're gone to Nick's family's place for Christmas, what, twice now? And Wisebottom hasn't dissected you yet.
Fred: No, but he and Nick's mom delight in discussing it.

Fred: Look, I was in that lab for months, and the only reason I survived was because I clammed up. Wisebottom may not have been there, but I see that gleam in his eye every time.
Mrs. Duncan: Then without objective proof, Trent's already won.

Mrs. Duncan: It's either him, or some other biologist who has never seen a sentient slime mold before.
Fred: Sigh. I'll do it.
Fooker: Kewl. I haven't done my "wrinkly old guy" bit in years.