Strong Bad's Responses in Poker Night at the Inventory

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Poker Night at the Inventory has a lot of dialogue when the four characters interact with each other. Here are Strong Bad's responses.

General Responses

Strong Bad Folding

STRONG BAD: The river! I'd like to drown that card's family in a river.

STRONG BAD: I fold.

STRONG BAD: I'm gonna fold, and then sit here.

STRONG BAD: Come on! These cards is bloke.

STRONG BAD: Fold.

STRONG BAD: {looks at cards} I don't think so.

STRONG BAD: Nope.

STRONG BAD: {in a musical tone} This sucks!

STRONG BAD: Ha, no way!

STRONG BAD: I'm foldin' this crap!

STRONG BAD: Don't you worry about me not playing, guys. I'm gonna keep folding so you don't have to. You can thank me later.

STRONG BAD: Uhhh, no... Uhh, no... Uh, no.

Strong Bad Calling

STRONG BAD: Calling!

STRONG BAD: I'm calling!

STRONG BAD: Oh, I'm calling!

STRONG BAD: Call!

STRONG BAD: I call.

STRONG BAD: I'll call.

STRONG BAD: Oh, yeah! Uh, let's do this.

Strong Bad Responding To A Bad Card

STRONG BAD: What! {grumble}

Strong Bad Raising

STRONG BAD: Raise.

STRONG BAD: Let's make this a little interesting, shall we?

STRONG BAD: I'm raising!

STRONG BAD: Raisin' in the sun!

STRONG BAD: How do you feel about... another raise? Not the toughest of guys now, eh?

Strong Bad Betting

STRONG BAD: Betting!

STRONG BAD: I'll toss a few chippies into the pot! Chippy chippy.

Strong Bad Checking

STRONG BAD: Free card!

STRONG BAD: OK. I check.

STRONG BAD: I check.

STRONG BAD: Check, check, check it out.

STRONG BAD: Maybe I won't check. Ohhhhhhhhhh... check.

Strong Bad Going All-In

STRONG BAD: Yeah. I'm all in.

STRONG BAD: I'm all in!

STRONG BAD: I'm going all in.

Strong Bad Talking About The Size of the Pot

STRONG BAD: Ooh. I could buy a new Compy with that pot. One with a half-core processor.

Strong Bad Taunting

STRONG BAD: Man, I would hate to play against me.

STRONG BAD: Call it! Fold! Call it! Fold! I'm inside your head!

STRONG BAD: {in a mocking tone} Oh, man! Do you even {exaggerates the word} know how to play?

STRONG BAD: Don't worry about your chippies. Little chippies.

STRONG BAD: This is as boring as hanging out with the tire when it's in one of it's moods.

STRONG BAD: Impressive folding, somethingface. Will you fold my laun-dray?

STRONG BAD: Maybe you're number and colorblind. Or just blind? Or just number?

Strong Bad Wins A Hand

WINSLOW: Strong Bad wins the hand.

STRONG BAD: I only play red cards. I mean, good cards.

STRONG BAD: All I gots is this... winning hand! Psyche! Face! Whoop! Plowmph!

STRONG BAD: {happily} Wow! What just happened?

TYCHO: You want me to say you won again?

STRONG BAD: You could if that's what happened!

TYCHO: Die a sad and gruesome, painful death.

STRONG BAD: Thanks, juys!

Strong Bad Responding To An All-In

STRONG BAD: Jeez St. Jeezum!

STRONG BAD: Ooh! {turns his head away and speaks softly, feigning indifference} I mean... cool, whatever.

STRONG BAD: Whoa!

STRONG BAD: Squeedilywoooooow!

Strong Bad Responding To A Large Pot

STRONG BAD: That pot is like half of the gross domestic product of Strongbadia. And our chief export, {waving his hands, in a singsong voice} potash!

Strong Bad Responding To A Player Elimination

STRONG BAD: Later, loser!

Strong Bad Responding To A Player Win

STRONG BAD: I guess that's a good hand, like a baby hand. You have baby hands.

Strong Bad Has Been Elminated From Play

WINSLOW: Strong Bad has been elminated from play.

STRONG BAD: Well, crap.

STRONG BAD: You know I let you win, right? I like to see how the other half lives sometimes.

STRONG BAD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...! {voice trails off, slowly shuffles away}

Strong Bad Wagering The Dangeresque Too Glasses

STRONG BAD: Oh... uh... I couldn't fit my briefcase full of cash in these pants on account of my ample hind-bosom. But I do have these cool-cool fadey-fadey shadey Dangeresque glasses. They're worth like five ten thousand dollars-es. So, we're good. Right? {quietly} You guys bought that?

WINSLOW: If nobody else has a problem with it, Strong Bad will be buying in with collateral. Whoever knocks him out will receive his buy-in.

Conversations

Strong Bad and Max Conversations

STRONG BAD: So... Max. You're like one of those {pronounces as poke mons} pokemons, right?

MAX: {narrows eyes} My genus and phylum is a mystery to all mankind.

STRONG BAD: Because I'd love to see some prepubescent pointy-haired kid run in here and stick you inside of a baseball {laughs at the end of the word}. {in a high pitched voice, with a smile} That would be hilarious.

MAX: Are you talking about the red-capped kidnapper who terrorized the fauna on the upper west side for months?

STRONG BAD: Maybe.

MAX: Because Sam, Flint, and I caught him trying to stuff a chimpanzee into his napsack, and made him cry for his mommy.

MAX: Hey Strong Bad, ever visit New York City? It's a dreamland of concrete, schwarmastands, and random acts of violence.

STRONG BAD: No, but it looks like {referring to Tycho} web-comic over here is a regular visitor to New {puts emphasis on the word} Dork City. He he. {in a high pitched voice, with a smile} I bet he's got {raises his feet up and down} a little snowglobe {raises his arms} that says New Dork City.\

STRONG BAD: You guys should know that {raises his arms and shakes his head} I don't mind playing for such low stakes {narrows his eyes and shakes his head} I know you all must be strapped for cash during these... tough economic times.

MAX: I had a sizable checking account in 1992, but they closed it when Sam and I used it while learning to launder money.

STRONG BAD: Hey, Bunnym'an. How badly did those Telltales hose you on your licensing agreement?

MAX: Eh, Sam and I just focus on fighting crime. People have been making money on our exploits for decades.

STRONG BAD: No, I mean those incompetant dorks who captured maybe an ounce of our charm and charmisma in their terrible video game. Point on this, click on that. How 'bout I use MY fist on YOUR face, Telltales.

MAX: Um, maybe you have me confused for someone else. Yeah. I disfigure bad guys and fight crime in New York City. That's my thing.

STRONG BAD: We're being ex-ploi-ted.

MAX: {excitedly} Ooh, exploitation! Santa Claus subjugated an entire race of elves in Season Two and Three.

MAX: Hey, boxing glove guy. With a face like that, have you ever considered organized crime? Sam and I could come after you and we'd try not to rough you up too bad.

STRONG BAD: I dabble in nefarious activities. Like the time I stole the Strong Bad's Cool Game for Attractive People source code from those Telltale chumps.

MAX: Ooh! That sounds criminal.

STRONG BAD: Oh yeah. I pulled it off without a hitch. Got the code over to my boys at Videlectrix who turned the game into a triple platinum, triple pixel best-seller. In... Guam.

STRONG BAD: {in a fake acting voice} Other than homestarrunner.com, do you have any other {pronounces as fay-vor-ite} favorite websites, Max?

MAX: Huh? Oh, I've got some favorite sites for laying in wait for criminals and general n'eer'do-wells around the city if that's what you're asking.

STRONG BAD: {angrily} I said, do you have any favorite websites, Max? You're gonna cost me fifty bucks!

MAX: Oh! {clears throat} {in a fake acting voice} When I'm on the inter-net, I can't stay away from {pronouncing each character} www.telltalegames.com/store. {Max smiles}

STRONG BAD: I don't trust you one bit, ra-bbit.

MAX: {cheerily} It's OK. I don't trust myself.

STRONG BAD: How do we know you don't have a never-ending stack of aces wherever you put your gun?

MAX: {cheerily} Well, you don't. But you're welcome to look!

MAX: I don't know a lot about card games, truth be told. But, I take it you're a little bit of a beginner, yes?

STRONG BAD: Are you talking to {pronounces it as moy} moi?

MAX: You betcha. You're as green as the bologna in Sam's mini-fridge.

STRONG BAD: {angrily} Shut up, Stitch.

MAX: {cheerily} It's OK. It just means you have to adopt a strategy of wanton deception.

STRONG BAD: Hmm... Not the woist idea I ever hoid.

MAX: {furrows brow} Get into their heads.

Strong Bad and The Heavy Conversations

STRONG BAD: Hey, Heavym'n? Do you think you could take care of The King of Town for me?

THE HEAVY: I can assassinate King, yes. Is expensive though.

STRONG BAD: Whoa, whoa, whoa. By "take care of", I meant maybe you and me sneak into his room and shave off half his mustache.

THE HEAVY: I am not best at sneaking.

STRONG BAD: Maybe we could confront him in a dark alley then?

THE HEAVY: This is better. That way blood wash away in rain.

STRONG BAD: Oh, man. You're going to totally murder the King of Town, aren't you? {in a happy tone} Oh, well!

THE HEAVY: Maybe you and I box?

STRONG BAD: I can't risk hurting my beautiful face. It's the franchise.

THE HEAVY: {cheerily} We spar. For fun.

STRONG BAD: I... don't think so.

STRONG BAD: {angrily} Why do you keep calling me "tiny heavy"?

THE HEAVY: {cheerily} You are heavy. Tiny. No? You are RED team. You have killing gloves of boxing. You earned these for boxing. You earned these for being great killer. You should try out for RED team.

STRONG BAD: Hmm... I guess I could join your team of ruthless killers and lame hat-wearers and watch you get grenaded by eight year olds. I will play the role of team mother and Lord High Ragamuffin.

THE HEAVY: You take many bullets before dying I think.

STRONG BAD: {happily} I likes the heroically tragic direction of my character.

STRONG BAD: Hey, heavym'n. What's your current living situache?

THE HEAVY: {cheerily} I live in RED barracks. Is nice. There is foos table.

STRONG BAD: What do you say to taking a room at the House of Strong?

THE HEAVY: {enthusiastically} There is vacancy?

STRONG BAD: Well, first you have to engage in the time honored tradition of tossing the fat hump of dump that currently occupies your room out the second story window.

THE HEAVY: {angrily} This is enemy?

STRONG BAD: Strong Sad won't put up much of a fight. He doesn't put up much of a pulse as it is.

THE HEAVY: Tiny Heavy.

STRONG BAD: {in an agitated tone} What is it?

THE HEAVY: Do you get the nightmares?

STRONG BAD: I get the jibblie nightmares. There's this one where Homestar is a giant cheese blintz, and Marzipan holds me at gunpoint and makes me eat him, and... uh... uh oh. {shakes and waves his hands} Jibblie, jibblie.

THE HEAVY: {with wide eyes} I am talking about visions of endless suffering. Dead doctors, everywhere. Spy cannot be found.

STRONG BAD: No. But that sounds like the jibblies, man.

THE HEAVY: I do not like this "jibblies".

THE HEAVY: {cheerily} What weapon do you carry, tiny Heavy?

STRONG BAD: Oh, you know, I got the bazooka, grappling gun, glue gun, my special nunchuck gun. And, of course, I got {holds up his fists} these babies. {kisses his fists one at a time}

THE HEAVY: Strong and bad, you wrestle? With mask?

STRONG BAD: {irritated} No, I'm a wrestle-man. Wrestle-MAN. Not like those hack wrestle-LERS.

THE HEAVY: Not like Iron Sheik?

STRONG BAD: No, not like the Iron Stink. He's a "Ler". Ach poo.

THE HEAVY: This is too bad.

Strong Bad and Tycho Conversations

STRONG BAD: At least this is more fun than poker night at Homestar's. Marzipan is always walking around au-natural trying to get everyone to play no-loser Candy Land.

TYCHO: What's no-loser Candy Land?

STRONG BAD: I don't know. Loser!

STRONG BAD: Your hair looks like a greasy hedgehog... unassociated with any video game license. That went to the barber and said, "Just a little off the suck, please".

TYCHO: People always assume hedgehogs are greasy. Members of the order Erinaceomorpha are proud and extremely fastidious mammals.

STRONG BAD: You said it, not me.

TYCHO: If one can overcome his trepidation at the sight of her spines, the hedgehog can make a wonderful pet. {seductively} Or... companion. {Strong Bad narrows his eyes and stares at Tycho} Their spines are not spines at all, but soft hairs made firm with keratin. At first she may bristle at your touch, {raises eyebrows} but as she warms to you, she may place a tiny paw on the glass, whispering "touch me". {moving his hand like a mouth} "Touch me like no man ever could". {closes his eyes, opens his mouth, and moves his hand over his face in a seductive manner. Then opens his eyes and gets embarrassed} Uh, I'm sorry... you were saying?

STRONG BAD: {with his eyes still narrowed} Oh nothing. Just puking in my pants.

STRONG BAD: Hey, nerd-rancher. How many hits does your fansite-for-babies that I hate get a month?

TYCHO: {with a smug expression on his face} I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing... A couple million.

STRONG BAD: Ha, right! I get it. A few blajillion. Like on Monday, you got several ka-tillion hits. And on Tuesday, like half a blazill-illion.

TYCHO: Those weren't even real numbers you just said.

STRONG BAD: I'm not the only one making up numbers.

TYCHO: {angrily} No, for real. It's like millions! I don't know how many millions.

STRONG BAD: Right. Well so does our website, bozo. {quickly} And so does Bozo's website.

TYCHO: How do you do anything even remotely interesting with hands like that? {gets a smug look on his face}

STRONG BAD: {angrily, with narrowed eyes} You mean besides punching your groin-face in the face-groin?

TYCHO: I mean lets say you {raises hand and shakes head} {puts emphasis on the word} somehow get an opportunity with the ladies?

STRONG BAD: {angrily, with narrowed eyes. Raises arms.} Somehow! I had to cancel, like, five dates with nine supermodels just to be here.

TYCHO: {quickly} Right, right, right. {narrows eyebrows in a confused manner} But what about the bra factor? How do you work the clasp?

STRONG BAD: Ha! Like they don't just {raises arms} fly off when they enter my {narrows eyes, shakes his head, and raises his arm} "natural musk fog".

Strong Bad, Max, and Tycho Conversations

MAX: Did I ever tell you the time Flint caught Artie Flopshark, the poker instructor, stealing money from the tenants next store to our office?

STRONG BAD: No, but this floppyshark sounds like my type of dude.

MAX: Flint saw Artie going door to door telling some stupid story about having to run really far or a bunch of people were going to die. And people were just handing him stacks of cash!

TYCHO: That actually sounds like a charity thing.

MAX: Then why, pray-tell, throughout his entire vicious pummeling did Artie insist he needed "10K"?

TYCHO: He didn't need "10K", he was running 10 k-lomiters for charity.

MAX: Well, long story short, Flint broke both of his legs and beat him to within an inch of his life. So... he wasn't running anywhere after that.

STRONG BAD: I hear the cold ones are pretty good here.

TYCHO: Aren't you, like, ten?

STRONG BAD: You, shut face! They also shake up some decent banan-ag. {in a disinterested monotone} Banang. Bana-ang. Ba...

MAX: Stop it! {throws up his hands in frustration}

STRONG BAD: Nang.

Strong Bad, The Heavy, and Tycho Conversations

THE HEAVY: What do you do with life?

TYCHO: Me?

THE HEAVY: Yes. What is possible with tiny, frail body?

TYCHO: {nervously} I occupy myself with simulations... of various kinds.

THE HEAVY: What is this?

TYCHO: {nervously} I leverage technology... to augment my imagination. You know. Thereby...

STRONG BAD: Let me help you, Ivan. He lives in his parent's basement and subsists on cheese doodles and rejection.

STRONG BAD: Hey, Heavy. You know any {makes quotes movements with his hands} hot Russian spies?

THE HEAVY: I hate spies.

STRONG BAD: But you gotta have the inside line on some deadly minxes named Natalya or Khrushchevia, right?

THE HEAVY: You want hot spy?

STRONG BAD: Am I not wrestle man? {raises arms} Do I not wrestle bleed?

THE HEAVY: I have friend {raises his arm in a confirming manner} who get you a hot spy.

STRONG BAD: {excitedly, raising his arms} Get him on the two-way, man!

THE HEAVY: His name is Pyro.

TYCHO: {smugly} Just real quick... the spy is hot in this case, because it is on fire.

STRONG BAD: {sadly} Oh... not as good.

TYCHO: All of this card playing has me a bit parched. I could use a stiff drink.

STRONG BAD: {angrily, with narrowed eyes} What's your poison, nerd-monger?

TYCHO: {smugly} A gin fizz. Depending on the occasion.

STRONG BAD: Ha! {points toward Tycho} You're a girl. You pledged in a sorority in college, and you learned to make that drink there. Now, the big beefer, the morning pukies, the dirty sweatsock. Those are the drinks of champee-ons.

TYCHO: {with raised, narrowed eyebrows} How about you, Heavy Weapons Guy? I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're a vodka guy.

THE HEAVY: Peach bellini, but bubbles can give me headache.

STRONG BAD: Hey, Hefty Bag, you ever play video games?

THE HEAVY: Just one.

STRONG BAD: Oh yeah? What tickles your fancy?

THE HEAVY: It is called...

TYCHO "WoW?"

THE HEAVY: Nyet. That is not popular. It is called "Where's an Egg?"

STRONG BAD: {waving his hands} Wh-wh-wh-WHAT? I love "Where's an Egg?"

THE HEAVY: "Where's an Egg?" is as big as "Tetris" in homeland!

Strong Bad, The Heavy, and Max Conversations

STRONG BAD: I wonder if this dump is haunted?

MAX: {cheerily} Ooh, I hope so. There's something about being able to terrorize a spectral being without it up and dying on you that {furrows eyebrows} I just love.

THE HEAVY: {sadly, lowers his head} I do not like ghost.

MAX: It's OK Mr. Weapons. I've got extensive experience with zombies and vampires. {points toward himself} I can handle a little ghost.

THE HEAVY: {with large eyes} You will take care of ghost for me?

MAX: {cheerily} You betcha.

THE HEAVY: {cheerily, nods his head} I like you, tiny rabbit.

THE HEAVY: Tiny Heavy, who is your favorite to kill in war?

STRONG BAD: Hmm, in WAR? Probably those Green Helmets. You know, the guys who don't have any cool weapons or gimmicks, and come in a discount three-pack.

THE HEAVY: To kill spy is glorious thing! How about you, Max? You are killing type.

MAX: My favorite enemy? {gasps}} That's like asking me to choose between my children!

THE HEAVY: {laughs heartily} You crack me up, little bunny!

Conversations With All Four Players

STRONG BAD: Alright, big pretend killer man. Tell me the most awesome story you have with plenty of super cool senseless violence.

THE HEAVY: {pauses for a moment to think, scratching his chin} When I was boy, I was at camp being trained in many ways of combat.

MAX: {smiling excitedly} Assassination camp for kids! Oh boy, this is going to be good.

THE HEAVY: There was sparrow sitting on fence. Snow falls quietly around me. Without notice, another boy jumps from behind tree and kills sparrow with throwing knife. {looks down sadly} The boy runs away.

MAX: {off-screen} And then...?

THE HEAVY: I pick up Sparrow and hear his last breath before digging him tiny grave.

TYCHO: {sobbing with his head in his hands}

MAX: {looks on sadly}

STRONG BAD: {sad expression, looks up at Heavy}} That's not even a little bit funny, man.

THE HEAVY: {shakes his head sadly}} No, it's not.

TYCHO: How'd you guys hear about the Inventory?

MAX: Sam heard about it when we were on a case out west. And I'll loiter just about anywhere that will pour me a drink with no questions asked.

THE HEAVY: My engineering friend brought me one night.

STRONG BAD: The only good thing I got out of those Telltales was a recommendation for a decent hang-out.

Conversations With A Non-Verbal Reaction By Strong Bad

THE HEAVY: Hmm, I must think about this.

MAX: Hey, uh. Mister Weapons Guy, I didn't take you for the thinking type.

THE HEAVY: I think very much.

MAX: Don't worry. I haven't had a salient thought since Prince put out Purple Rain.

THE HEAVY: I know this music. Is good! Is new, no? {Strong Bad, Tycho, and Max all look at the Heavy quizzically.}

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