Dexter Funny Quotes

Plastic ware," he said slowly, "like knives and forks and spoons?" I brushed a bit of dirt off the back of my car—was that a scratch?—and said casually, "Yeah, I guess.Just the basics, you know." "Did you need plastic ware?" he asked. I shrugged. "Because," he went on, and I fought the urge to squirm, "it's so funny, because I need plastic ware. Badly." "Can we go inside, please?" I asked, slamming the trunk shut. "It's hot out here." He looked at the bag again, then at me. And then, slowly, the smile I knew and dreaded crept across his face. "You bought me plastic ware," he said. "Didn't you?' "No," I growled, picking at my license plate. "You did!" he hooted, laughing out loud. "You bought me some forks. And knives. And spoons. Because—" "No," I said loudly. "—you love me!" He grinned, as if he'd solved the puzzler for all time, as I felt a flush creep across my face. Stupid Lissa. I could have killed her. "It was on sale," I told him again, as if this was some kind of an excuse. "You love me," he said simply, taking the bag and adding it to the others. "Only seven bucks," I added, but he was already walking away, so sure of himself. "It was on clearance, for God's sake." "Love me," he called out over his shoulder, in a singsong voice. "You. Love. Me.

Luckily the smoke raised the alarm and everyone fled we don’t think any innocent people died. Although when the cavern collapsed two guards were crushed.” “Yeah I would have been disappointed too.” Jason grinned, his grin was soon wiped off his face when he noticed Dexter’s face change and disapproval of his joke.

This situation was a heart attack waiting to happen. He just knew it. The stress of the job, now this. Yep, he was going to keel over. He could see the writing on his tombstone now: Sloane Brodie departed this world at age 37 due to massive coronary trauma as a result of idiot partner Dexter J. Daley. --Sloane

He things we think he's a double agent, working for them but secretly working for us. He doesn't know we know he's a triple agent, working for them but secretly working for us but really he's secretly working for them. Dexter, how's your brain?" "Hurting.

Quirky, funny, happy-go-lucky dead inside Dexter. No longer Dexter with the knife, Dexter the Avenger. Not until next time.

Marketing is so powerful that it can make even an extremely untalented musician a one-hundred-hits wonder.

We were watching a sitcom, I don't remember which. There were many of them at the time that all could be lumped together under the title of Funny Minority and the White Guy.

It made me feel almost giddy, like a high-school girl watching the captain of the football team worked up his nerve to ask for a date. You mean me? Little old me? Oh my stars, really? Pardon me while I flutter my eyelashes.

During these mad dashes to the wall phone in the kitchen she hadn't time to fall but with fantastical grace and dexterity wrenched herself upright in midfall and continued running (dogs whimpering, yapping hysterically in her wake, cats scattering wide-eyed and plume-tailed) before the telephone ceased it's querulous ringing--though frequently she was greeted with nothing more than a derisive dial tone, in any case.

Lily White and the Horrible Dwarves     A

... Dexter the sofa spud ...

Once upon a time, in a land  of verdant fields and stone castles, an evil queen and a lovely maiden… You know what? Never mind the introduction, let’s just skip to the action!   “Mirror,

me with that bunny!” shouted Hunkules. He was so angry that it took him a moment to really look at the girl, and when he did he saw that her skin was almost as white as a vampire’s. It was the girl from the magic mirror, Lily White! “That bunny, I’ll have you know, thinks my grandmother is an alcoholic,” said Lily White, her eyes lit with fury.

Sincerely,

POW

And he really was serious; he was just very funny about it. He talked about serious issues and made the crowd look at them in a new way, a way that was provocative and funny at the same time.

of

We found this,” Debs said, standing at my shoulder and holding up a plastic evidence bag with a sheet of plain white paper in it. There was a red-brown stain of dried blood on one corner, but I took the bag from her and looked: On the paper was written a short message, in a large and ornate font that could have come from any computer printer in the world. It said, He disagreed with someone who ate him. “I didn’t realize cannibals were so clever,” I said. Deborah stared at me, and all the soft despair she had been fighting with lately seemed to settle on her face and begin to smolder. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s pretty funny. Especially to somebody like you who enjoys this kind of thing.” “Debs,” I said, looking around me to see if anybody might have overheard. There was no one in immediate earshot, but judging by her face, I doubt she would have cared.

Alana looked down her nose at Deborah. Naturally, from her great height she would have to, but there was more to it than that. She gave Debs that look of condescending amusement that only the Brits can really master, and said, “What would you like it to mean, Sergeant?” And she made “sergeant” sound like some kind of funny insect, which was not lost on my sister. She blushed.

flabbergasted.

Several brilliantly funny remarks crowded into my mouth and fought for space on my tongue, but once again I somehow made myself stay focused on the larger point, which was that I still had no idea what Rita was talking about. “I’ll be there at two thirty,” I said. “If you promise to tell me where it is and why I’m going there.” Astor

So I stared, and Samantha looked back at me, and there we were: a perfectly normal married man with three kids and a promising career who just happened to enjoy killing people, staring at a perfectly normal eighteen-year-old girl who went to a good school and liked Twilight and who wanted to be eaten, sitting next to each other in a walk-in refrigerator at a vampire club in South Beach.