Strong Bad's Responses in Poker Night at the Inventory

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"His poker strategy consists of belittling his opponents."

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


[edit] General Responses

[edit] Betting Rounds

[edit] Thinking



STRONG BAD: I don't know...

STRONG BAD: This is a harder decision than that time Strong Sad AND Homestar both asked me for dessert and I only had one laxative brownie left.

STRONG BAD: Hmm. Let me just recall what to do with my patented Wagering System of the Stars. {stands up and moves like a machine} Tikka-tikka-tikka-tikka-tikka-ting! Ah, of course!

STRONG BAD: Maybe instead of doing something, I'll go into a medative state. {chanting} Aaron blaron the big fat heron, aaron blaron the big fat heron...

STRONG BAD: Hm. Whatever I choose is going to be awesome...

STRONG BAD: I don't think that's a very big bet. I'm just trying to think as hard as my seven-pack abs.

STRONG BAD: Let me ask my two friends what they would do. {holds up his fists, speaks to left one} Gilbert, what would you do? {turns to right fist} How about you, Montlick?

STRONG BAD: Right now, somebody at the table should exhibit a painfully obvious tell.

STRONG BAD: Luckily, my da Cheat is covering me for any big bets that don't go my way.
[edit] Responding to a Large Pot
STRONG BAD: That pot is like half of the gross domestic product of Strong Badia. And our chief export, {waving his hands, in a singsong voice} potash!

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

[edit] Folding


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

STRONG BAD: Come on! These cards is bloke.


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


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: I'll... fold.

STRONG BAD: And, I'm out.

STRONG BAD: And, this is where I kick back and relax, ladies.

STRONG BAD: OK, that card sucks pretty bad.

STRONG BAD: These cards suck harder than the King of Town at the bottom of a 72-ounce melt-shake.

STRONG BAD: I'm not even going to dignify these cards with my sweet touch when I fold them.

STRONG BAD: These cards are like the ladies: they WISH they were getting played by me.

STRONG BAD: Oh, it's the worst three cards I ever saw.

[edit] Folding after Flop Cards
STRONG BAD: Flop, flop crap. Crop. Trying to make it rhyme. See what I was doing there?

STRONG BAD: Flops are stupid, but floppy disks are analogawesome.

STRONG BAD: That flop is scarier than most Marzipans I know.
[edit] Folding after River Card
STRONG BAD: The river! I'd like to drown that card's family in a river.

[edit] 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.

[edit] Calling

STRONG BAD: Calling!

STRONG BAD: I'm calling!

STRONG BAD: Oh, I'm calling!



STRONG BAD: I'll call.

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

STRONG BAD: Can't wait to see me a flippy floppy.

STRONG BAD: I'm totally in this hand! Total, man.

STRONG BAD: I'm not going to even count how much that is, because I call, and I don't care anymore. I don't care.

STRONG BAD: Trying to raise me off the pot, 'cause you think I have the wheel? Or the tire? Or the Guatemalan tricycle? I call!

STRONG BAD: {in a mocking tone} Ooh! The girls will go {emphasizes the word} crazy for a huge bet like that. Ha ha- {quickly changes to his normal voice} I call.

STRONG BAD: Who do you think I am, that tightwad The King Of Town?

STRONG BAD: With a bet like that, you better wash your hands. {smiles, raises the pitch of his voice} Cause I know you're holding crap.

STRONG BAD: Oh, I call your bet! Which is clearly just you trying to impress the ladies... at home. Mmm...

[edit] Betting


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

STRONG BAD: All right, I'LL be the one to put some money in. Scare-dees.

STRONG BAD: Don't freak out, I'm betting a lot. But I asked your mom last night, and she said it was cool.

STRONG BAD: I guess I can throw a little money into the pot. And by throw I mean a crane is going to have to lower it onto the table.

STRONG BAD: {speaks in a monotone} I'll bet a small amount. So you amateurs don't {speaks normally} wet yourselves.

STRONG BAD: {tosses chips} Yeah, I just bet that. Don't lose your minds.

[edit] Raising


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: Hmm... OK, I raise.

STRONG BAD: I am puttin' you alls up in!

STRONG BAD: I'm raisin', and not even carin'. {unintelligible}

[edit] 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: It's the moment you've all been waiting for... {making exploding noises before the words} all in. {calmly, shaking his head} That was me saying "all in".


STRONG BAD: Oh man, I'm so sorry, this is going to make you cry, 'cause I'm all in.

STRONG BAD: I hope you're all wearing two belts, 'cause I'm about to all in the pants off this muh!

[edit] Responding to Player's Actions

[edit] Player Folds

STRONG BAD: Impressive folding, somethingface. Can I get you to fold my laun-dray?

STRONG BAD: That's cool... if you're NOT concerned with impressing the ladies.

STRONG BAD: Yeah, that's pretty much what a loser would do.

STRONG BAD: Just because those three jokers folded doesn't mean you have to.

[edit] Player Checks

STRONG BAD: You keep checkin', and I'll keep checkin' out the {stretches out each syllable} lay-days.

STRONG BAD: Thank god YOU'RE here.

STRONG BAD: {mockingly} Watch out everyone! HUUGE check!

[edit] Player Goes 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: Squeedilywoooooow!

STRONG BAD: Ooh, that's classic.

[edit] Taunting Player

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: 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 its moods.

STRONG BAD: Looks like you're gonna have to fooooooold.

STRONG BAD: You'd know exactly what to do here if you used Strong Bad's Ultra System for Perfect Pokering. {said quickly} Illegal in 42 states.
[edit] Making General Conversation With Player
STRONG BAD: Just go for it!

STRONG BAD: Hmm. Luckily my The Cheat is covering me for any big bets that don't go my way.
[edit] Player Taking Too Long
STRONG BAD: This is less fun than one of Homsar's late night Jenga-jams.

STRONG BAD: I'm not getting any younger. But I am getting more dignified.


[edit] Responding to Community Cards

[edit] Postive Reaction

STRONG BAD: Ooh! {disinterested} I mean, cool. Whatever.



STRONG BAD: Squeedily-WOW!

[edit] Negative Reaction

STRONG BAD: WHAT?! {grumble}



STRONG BAD: The pits!

[edit] End of Round

[edit] Strong Bad Wins Hand

Strong Bad may use the shovel from SBCG4AP to gather his winnings.
VAN 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: {mocking tone} Oh man, what happened?
TYCHO: You want me to say you won again?
STRONG BAD: I guess so. I mean if that's what happened for real and for true. Riiiiiiiiight?
TYCHO: Die a sad, pitiful, painful death.

STRONG BAD: Thanks, juys!

STRONG BAD: Just gonna keep winning. Same type deal. Twice times. Twice times.

STRONG BAD: {singing} I keep bettin' the muh-nay, and no one-a can beat me!

STRONG BAD: In your collective faces, dorks! Same goes for my previous wins, which were up your collective BUTT.

STRONG BAD: I win again! Man, I hope this is all being recorded for a VHS box set.

STRONG BAD: Win again dot exe! gov. org.

STRONG BAD: Oh man, it feels so much cooler to flip over my cards to win all the big ones.

[edit] Player Wins Hand

STRONG BAD: I guess that's a good hand, like a baby hand. You have baby hands.
THE HEAVY: HA HA! Baby hands!

STRONG BAD: So, you got some lucky cards. You know you're going to be hit by a truck on the way home, right? It's the inverse property of luck-have.

STRONG BAD: Anybody can get lucky. But it takes skill to get lucky like Strong Bad.

STRONG BAD: {in his old Mexican accent} Look at that!

STRONG BAD: Nice hand, gigantic cheater.

STRONG BAD: You know this game was rigged, right? By your mom. She paid me to do it. She pays all your friends too. And the woman you call grandma.

STRONG BAD: Cheat! You are The Cheat!

STRONG BAD: That's just great. Tooootal crap.

STRONG BAD: That's not as great as the time I had a straight flush and a full house in the same hand. A flush house!

STRONG BAD: I just...hate you. So much.

STRONG BAD: No, no, no, no! Plain ol' simple Middle American values no!

[edit] Player Loses Hand

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

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

STRONG BAD: Those are your cards? I feel bad for yo mutha.

[edit] Draw

STRONG BAD: Grr...gimme back my chippies! Come back to poopaw!

STRONG BAD: WHAT?! This hand is way more awesome than yours! Don't I get a prize for style points?!

[edit] Elimination

[edit] Player Eliminated

STRONG BAD: Later, loser!

STRONG BAD: {angrily, with narrowed eyes} There's no quicker way to turn the hotties off than by being a terrible poker player, man.

STRONG BAD: Ouch, man. I'd feel like a real ouch man if I was knocked out already.

STRONG BAD: Oh look, a loser! In the wild!

STRONG BAD: Take it easy man, it's only a game.

STRONG BAD: Lader, hoser!

STRONG BAD: {singing} I took your money, and it's not funnay... wait, it's actually really funnay...

[edit] Strong Bad Wins an Item

STRONG BAD: Maybe I'll use this to bribe The Cheat into doing something hilariously illegal!

[edit] Strong Bad Eliminated

VAN WINSLOW: Strong Bad has been eliminated from play.
STRONG BAD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...! {voice trails off, slowly shuffles away}

STRONG BAD: Well, that was a quivering pile of not fun.

STRONG BAD: Later, cheaters.

STRONG BAD: Alright, I'm blowing this popstinkle stand.

STRONG BAD: I don't know why I even sign up for these things. Lame appearance fees just get gobbled up by The Cheat's Jaffa Cakes problem, anyhow.
[edit] If Strong Bad wagered Dangeresque, Too?
The player will only be awarded the Dangeresque shades if they are the one to eliminate Strong Bad.
STRONG BAD: ...well, crap.

[edit] Tournament Ends

[edit] Strong Bad Wins The Tournament


STRONG BAD: THAT'S HOW IT'S DONE! {Stands on chair, starts rocking it side to side. Falls on floor} Crap.

[edit] Player Wins The Tournament

VAN WINSLOW: The player wins the tournament!
STRONG BAD: Argh! I was so close! NOOOO! {narrows eyes in an angry manner}

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

STRONG BAD: {angrily} Walk away, Strong Bad...walk away...{flails his arms} DON'T...LOSE IT! Kck-kck-kck-kck-kck!

STRONG BAD: What?! We're really gonna let Talky McTalktake win the whole deal?!

[edit] Conversations

[edit] Introduction

VAN WINSLOW: Oh, hello there! Another enthusiast, I presume? How good it is to see a fresh face here at the Inventory. I imagine you're here for the card game with the fellows downstairs? Let me lead you down there. {camera follows Van Winslow down the stairs and stops at the bottom} A first timer, hm? I'm a bit more familiar with the... eh... benefactions of the club. The club was founded in 1919 in response to an early draft of the 18th Amendment. Through... back channels, it was learned that this vile piece of legislation would not only outlaw libation, but games and amusements that could also "threaten the world-renown determination and productivity of the American Workforce." Pah! Can you imagine? GAMES OUTLAWED? Nevertheless, this club has remained here in secret ever since, just in case "those in charge" get another bee in their bonnet, hm? So, welcome. And enjoy yourself. {Pom Pom leaves the table in disgust. The camera follows Van Winslow to the poker table.} Ah, your table! Ahem, gentlemen! I hope there is room at the table for a fifth?
MAX: Ah-ha! Fresh meat!
VAN WINSLOW: Tonight's stakes will be ten thousand dollars.
STRONG BAD: Oh, just because you're the manager, you get to make the rules?
VAN WINSLOW: Manager? Ha, no, I am not under the employ of The Inventory. I just see to it that everybody has a good time. That will be ten thousand. I hope each of you brought your billfolds.

[edit] Wagering The Dangeresque Too Glasses at Buy-In

When wagering the sunglasses, Strong Bad wears them during the game.
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?
VAN 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.

[edit] Strong Bad and Max Conversations

STRONG BAD: So... Max. You're like one of those {pronounces as "poke-mons"} Pokémons, 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?
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 Dork City. Hee hee. {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...{angrily} For research!

"Hey, Bunnym'n."
STRONG BAD: Hey, Bunnym'n. 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 incompetent 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, 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 ne'er-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 intern-net, I can't stay away from {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.

MAX: In fairness, I'm a disgrace to others. Including women and children as well.
STRONG BAD: Well, your tiny head is a disgrace to evolution.

[edit] 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 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.

THE HEAVY: If I bet that much, Sasha will go hungry.
STRONG BAD: What, is Sasha, like, your Pomeranian or something?
THE HEAVY: She is my gun. For killing.

THE HEAVY: A tiny bet the size of the tiny Heavy.
STRONG BAD: What are you talking about, man?
THE HEAVY: Oh, tiny Heavy, you are so funny.

THE HEAVY: Hmm, I must think about this.
STRONG BAD: Don't hurt yourself there, Comrade Smart-insky...lov.

THE HEAVY: {to the tune of the death march} Da da da da duh da duh da duh da da.
STRONG BAD: Don't beat yourself up, Heavy Man.

THE HEAVY: Sometimes you must wait in cold anticipation for your enemy.
STRONG BAD: And sometimes you must wait in line for bread and blue jeans.

STRONG BAD: So, Heavym'n, they got those guys on the corner that sell bootleg DVDs off a blanket in your country?
THE HEAVY: I like movies, yes.
STRONG BAD: Yeah? Like what? Fists of Knuckles? Beneath Fists of Knuckles? Fists of Knuckles: Babies? Classics!
THE HEAVY: No. My favorites are The Dirty Dozen and the first twenty minutes of Rocky IV.

THE HEAVY: Strong and Bad, how is boxing career?
STRONG BAD: {furiously emphasizing each word} THESE ARE MY HANDS!
THE HEAVY: I was boxer once. In school. We have to either box or learn to herd goats. {sadly} I am not good with goats.
STRONG BAD: {singing} Too much information, man. You're Too-Much-Information Man.
THE HEAVY: At first, I do not like punching other boys. But then I learn to love it.

VAN WINSLOW: The Heavy has been eliminated from play.
THE HEAVY: I am stupid, stupid, stupid Heavy.
STRONG BAD: Don't beat yourself up, Heavyman. I don't think you'd survive.
THE HEAVY: Thank you, tiny heavy. {leaves table}

[edit] Strong Bad and Tycho Conversations

Offensive content Warning: Language that may be considered offensive by some readers follows.
To view a censored version of this page, see Strong Bad's Responses in Poker Night at the Inventory (censored).
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 let's 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: Hey dork, hey dork, hey dork!
TYCHO: I assume you're talking to me?
STRONG BAD: {sing-song} You know it! {normal} What kinda chintzy setup you got at home?
TYCHO: Well, I built my desktop; it's pretty nice. I got a, let's see—
STRONG BAD: Yeah, yeah, I-hate-you-whatever. I've got like a 500cc super-core Compé, with like a tetra-bat of graphics, and all the bells and whistles! Actually, the entire computer is made out of bells and whistles.
TYCHO: So, it's completely custom.
STRONG BAD: Yeah, yeah, and those bells and whistles are made out of flutes and oboes! It's OK to be jealous of my style.
TYCHO: I'll keep that in mind.

STRONG BAD: Hey dorktake, you can't be a video game fanboy without digging the complete library of Videlectrix titles, am I right?
TYCHO: I am a proponent of the classics, certainly.
STRONG BAD: Classic? I'm talkin' about Videlectrix's latest releases!
TYCHO: Like...?
STRONG BAD: Like "Snake Boxer 6: Now the Snakes Have Fists Too".
TYCHO: That would make the snakes a greater threat.
STRONG BAD: That's the point.

STRONG BAD: This treehouse of nerds pales in comparison to an even more secret club that I go to.
TYCHO: In Strong Badia? Somewhere between an old tire and a pile of dogshit? Maybe you have to knock three times on the skull of a dead hobo in the bushes, perhaps.
STRONG BAD: {very smug} Ha, you wish you knew where it was. And even if you did, they wouldn't let you in.

[edit] 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}

[edit] Strong Bad, The Heavy, and Tycho Conversations

THE HEAVY: What do you do with life?
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...
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!

THE HEAVY: These cards make me angry, like spinning mini-gun of killing.
TYCHO: May I recommend Strong Bad?
STRONG BAD: Good luck separating me from these guns.

STRONG BAD: So, Tycho {emphasis on each syllable, pronounced tai-chow}, I hear you fancy your fancy self a bit of an internet celebrity.
TYCHO: There's a distinct difference between fancying yourself something and actually being something.
STRONG BAD: Oh, I'm sorry, I can't hear you because of all the traffic.
THE HEAVY: I hear no cars...
STRONG BAD: I'm talking about all my crazy web-traffic, Ivan! This guy thinks he's some kind of Strong Bad with his Geocities account.
TYCHO: Yeah, we have a convention. Last year, like sixty million people came. That's a lot.
STRONG BAD: Just because your attendees WEIGHED as much as sixty million people does not mean that's how many showed up to your rinky-dink dinky-shrink.
TYCHO: Well, we'll be sure YOU don't get a pass next year.
STRONG BAD: HA! Like any convention is worth its salt distilled from the sweat of a thousand gamer-dorks without me.
TYCHO: ...fucking chuwero.

THE HEAVY: I am reminded of time Engineer kill entire team.
TYCHO: Damn, Heavy, that's... uh, heavy. Sorry to hear that.
THE HEAVY: I search entire base for him. He tries to kill me with turret and mini-turret, but I crush his toys like they are made of paper.
STRONG BAD: Sound like-a some crappy toys if you ask me.
THE HEAVY: Then I find him hiding by teleporter. I take his gun away from him. He tries to hit me with wrench! Hahaha! So I take wrench away from him. I take his wrench, and shove it down his throat, all the way to the handle.
TYCHO: Christ!
THE HEAVY: Ahahaha! Then, I rip off all his fingers, one by one! Let's see you build toys now! {Laughs heartily} There is blood everywhere! And...HE'S CRYING! {Laughs more}. I think he cries out for mother, but {laughs} the wrench is stuck in his throat, and it sounds like: {Heavy makes loud gurgling sounds, before breaking back into merry laughter} Is this not funniest thing?!
{Max, Tycho, and Strong Bad are all speechless, looking shocked. Tycho shakes his head silently.}
STRONG BAD: That is some BLEEPED up BLEEP, man!

[edit] 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!

[edit] Conversations With All Four Players

STRONG BAD: All right, 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.

(Note: This one only appears when Tycho is the first eliminated)
TYCHO: Urgh, fine time to just— {reaches for pocket}
{The sound of Strong Bad and Max drawing their guns, Tycho looks worried.}
{The sound of The Heavy's gun, Sasha, rev-ing up.}
{Tycho turns to see Max Strong Bad and Heavy threatening him with the Lugermorph, Nunchuck gun and default Sasha respectively.}
HEAVY: Oh. {puts Sasha down}
MAX: Woopsie! {Throws Lugermorph away}
{Strong Bad keeps pointing his gun at Tycho}
STRONG BAD: Hand it over. {Tycho shakes his head and leaves}

[edit] Strong Bad Restarting The Conversation After He Was Interrupted

STRONG BAD: Anyway...

STRONG BAD: So, as I was saying...

STRONG BAD: Where was I? Oh!

STRONG BAD: So, anyway...

STRONG BAD: Back to what I was saying...

STRONG BAD: Oh, sooo...

STRONG BAD: Anyways, I was saying...

STRONG BAD: What the crap was I saying? Oh, right.

STRONG BAD: Anyways, back to me.

[edit] 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.}

[edit] Players Referring To Strong Bad When He's Not At The Table

TYCHO: Well, the other proponents of this tournament would spend their winnings on corn dogs, 8-bit video games, or bullets. All worthy purchases actually.

TYCHO: Well, Strong Bad didn't win, which pleases me. {imitates Strong Bad's voice, in a high pitched manner} He needs to be taken down a peg.
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