How to Kill Your Neighbor's Dog
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Larry: You're lucky. You got Melanie. There are men who'd die for her.
Peter McGowan: Yeah, die for her, or have her kill you. Either way, you're dead.
Larry: Still having trouble satiating, are we?
Peter McGowan: I think the doorbell's heard my wife shout "I'm coming" more than I have these days.

[Larry is dressed as a priest]
Peter McGowan: Can I have a valediction, father?
Larry: Say four holy Fuck You's and keep drinking.

Peter McGowan: Are you drunk or something?
Larry: What time is it?
Peter McGowan: Four.
Larry: Yep.

Victoria: You're an alcoholic.
Adam: Alcoholics have class. I'm a fucking drunk.

Peter McGowen: ...but maybe that's everything in writing - a catchy title.
Debra Salhany: So is that why you decided to call your first novel How to Kill Your Neighbor's Dog?
Peter McGowen: Oh, that isn't mere affectation. That's a practical guidebook full of juicy bits on suburban terrorism.
Debra Salhany: ...but, uh, what if somebody reads this and goes out and kills their neighbor's dog?
Peter McGowen: Oh, well, what are you gonna do?

Debra Salhany: So, how did you meet your wife?
Peter McGowan: She was a lap dancer, I had a pocket full of singles... No, she was a dancer. For a brief period, she gave acting a try. She came in for an audition, and the rest as they say is histrionics.
Debra Salhany: So, you employed the casting couch?
Peter McGowan: Hey, whatever works. You know that, Deborah.

Melanie McGowan: Other houses have M&M's, we stock up with Smarties. It's like living at the duty free-shop at Heathrow.

Adam: They say women are the sensitive ones, but I've never seen it. They're as cold as party ice.
Victoria: I don't think that sucking on countless nipples makes one an authority on sensitivity.

Edna: You look just like my son-in-law.
Peter McGowan: I am your son-in-law, Edna.
Edna: My son-in-law's name is Peter.
Peter McGowan: No. I said your name was Edna. My name is Peter.
Edna: You just said your name was Edna... Edna's a funny name for a man. Been teased over the years?
Peter McGowan: Mercilessly. "Pete."

[Traffic report]
Laura Leeton: If the 405 is your morning route, I hope you don't have a history of showing up late to work, 'cause today you're fired.

Peter McGowan: Hollywood doesn't want writers, so much as secretaries with a flare for dialogue. If you want to be happy in Hollywood, be a cinematographer. Nobody knows what you're doing, so they can't screw with you.

[Peter is smoking]
Melanie McGowan: You know, you're going to have to cut that out when the baby comes.
Peter McGowan: What? Are you expecting it tonight?

Melanie McGowan: Maybe you should see a therapist about your anxiety.
Peter McGowan: That's exactly what I'm afraid of. What if he cures me? Then, I'll have nothing to write about. Nobody wants to know about how happy you are.
Melanie McGowan: Oh, I don't think you ever have to worry about an over-abundance of happiness, dear.

[after a prostate exam]
Peter McGowan: Now I know what a muppet feels like.

Peter McGowan: Do you ever think that if you attack an artist long enough, that you'll succeed in having him censor himself?

Debra Salhany: Thanks for sticking around, Peter.
Peter McGowan: Thanks for letting me be sticky, Debbie.

Laura Leeton: [traffic report] And the 5 Freeway is stopped dead... just because.

Peter McGowan: Seems to me only the intelligent people are choosing not to reproduce.

Peter McGowan: "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to conceive." *That* is Sir Walter Scott.
Melanie McGowan: Oh, really? I seem to remember that quote a bit differently.

Adam: Cunnilingus. I've been reading that word since I was 13 and I still can't seem to wrap my tounge around it. Wait... was that a pun, or just bad taste? Wait... that may have been another pun.

Edna: TV moves fast.

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