Short order cook Patrick Ramsey: Order number 92!
Shaun Rogers: Oooooh, that's mine!
Shaun Rogers: What the fuck? Where're my caramelized onions? This creamed spinach has too much spinach. You call this cornbread? These sweet potato bacon strips got the extra fat stripped off. Man, I asked for double meat on this bitch! And they totally gypped me on the fries.
Boss Bailey: You need to take that shit back.
Shaun Rogers: Fuck yeah, I do.
Short order cook: Fine, you want that order corrected, you gotta take it all the way back to the kitchen.
Boss Bailey: Oh, shit. Kitchen's closing, man. You gotta run.
Shaun Rogers: Aw, fuck. Here I go. Ouf, I gotta a stitch in my side and I'm losing my freshness. Shouldn't have had that fourth helping of halftime pasta.
Boss Bailey: Gone 'head, man. Only 50 more yards to go.
Shaun Rogers: Oh, fuck. This is too much running. How far I gone? 35 yards? That's it? Now I know why Tatum Bell doesn't gain more than seven. This shit is hard.
Boss Bailey: You're almost there, man. Keep pumping those legs.
Shaun Rogers: Legs? What fucking legs? I ain't seen them shits in years. I thought I was like the genie in Aladdin and floated above a tapering blue nub. I don't go nowhere that's not within tromping distance.
Shaun Rogers: Fuck. Ooooh, God. I've got runner's high. I'm in the game Burgertime. I'm wearing a giant taupe and I'm spraying great big sausages with pepper. Why must I run from the sausages? I gotta run across this big patty so it drops down to the next level. Too many stairs.
Shaun Rogers: LAY OFF ME! I'M STARVING!
[Shaun leaps through double kitchen doors]
Shaun Rogers: I would like to change my AAAAWWWWDDDDAAAAARRRR.
Shaun Rogers: Aww, I spilled it.