Cindi Lightballoon: I’m a mole.

George, Sr.: You know, God... God doesn’t care how big your teeth are. Yes, you could go to a dentist and you could, whoo... you could grind off about—I don’t know—30%. Maybe more. Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it.

George, Sr.: What-What evidence does the government have on old wise George, by the way?

Cindi Lightballoon: Oh, I hate when you call yourself old. You’re new to me!