Lucy Emerson: [to Sam] I can never sleep with the closet door open, either. Not even a crack. Sam, this is a terrible thing to admit, but I think that one of the reasons I divorced your father was because he never believed in the closet monster.

Michael Emerson: [upon seeing Grandpa's workroom, filled with deer heads] Talk about the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Alan: We blew it, man! We lost it!
Edgar: Shut up!
Alan: We unraveled in the face of the enemy!
Edgar: It's not our fault. They pulled a mind-scramble on us! They opened their eyes and talked!

David: Michael wants to know what's going on. Marco, what's going on?
Marko: I don't know. What's going on, Paul?
Paul: Wait a minute. Who wants to know?
Dwayne: Michael wants to know.

Edgar: Death to all vampires! Maximum body count. We are awesome monster bashers!
Alan: The meanest!
Edgar: The baddest!

Edgar: Read this.
Sam: I told you I don't like horror comics.
Alan: Think of it more as a survival manual. There's our number on the back and pray you never need to call us.
Sam: I'll pray I never need to call you. Sure.

Edgar: We trashed the one who looks like Twisted Sister!
Alan: Totally anniliated his night-stalking ass!

Edgar: We're on the right trail. Flies and the undead go together, like bullets and guns. Come on!
Sam: What's that smell?
Edgar: Vampires, my friend. Vampires.

Edgar: We've been aware of some very serious vampire activity in town for a long time.
Alan: Santa Carla has become a haven for the undead.
Edgar: As a matter of fact, we're almost certain that ghouls and werewolves occupy high position at City Hall.
Alan: Kill your brother, you'll feel better!

Edgar: Where the hell are you from? Krypton?
Sam: Phoenix, actually. But lucky me, we moved...here.

Edgar: Where's Nosferatu?
Sam: Who?
Edgar: The Prince of Darkness.
Alan: The night crawler. The bloodsucker. El Vampiro.
Sam: Mike! They're here.

Edgar: You did the right thing by calling us. Does your brother sleep a lot?
Sam: Yeah, all day.
Alan: Does the sunlight freak him out?
Sam: Uh, he wears sunglasses in the house.
Edgar: Bad breath, long fingernails?
Sam: Yeah, his fingernails are a little bit longer, um, he always had bad breath though.
Alan: He's a vampire all right.
Edgar: All right, here's what you do, get your self a good sharp stake and drive it right through his heart.
Sam: I can't do that, he's my brother.
Alan: Okay, we'll come over and do it for you.
Sam: No!
Edgar: You'd better get yourself a garlic T-shirt, buddy, or it's your funeral.

Edgar: You think you really know what's happening here, don't you? Well, I'll tell you something. You don't know shit buddy. You think we just work in a comic bookstore for our folks, huh?
Sam: Actually, I thought it was a bakery.
Edgar: This is just our cover. We are dedicated to a higher purpose. We're fighters for Truth, Justice, and the American way.

Grandpa: Anything in here that might pass for after-shave?
Sam: How about some Windex, Grandpa?
Grandpa: Yeah, let me try some of that. [slaps some on] Not bad!

Grandpa: Now, on Wednesdays when the mailman brings the TV Guide sometimes the address label is curled up just a little. You'll be tempted to tear it off. Don't. You'll only wind up rippin' the cover and I don't like that. And stay outta here.
Sam: Wait, you have a TV?
Grandpa: No. I just like to read the TV Guide. Read the TV Guide, you don't need a TV.