SAN PEDRO ZOMBIE CAMP
Dr. Juarez: I’m here to see the director of this camp.
Mr. Sleazasky: Mmm, I bet you are, you dirty bitch. What do you want to see first: my prancing pecker or my prancing pecker?
Esther: [Throws up in her mouth a little bit.]
Dr. Juarez: I want to see the module.
Mr. Sleazasky: Patience, my sweet. Let’s drive around in my golf cart so I can molest you some more.
Esther: Rex, I feel uneasy about using my spy powers to reclassify you from Living Dead to Dead Dead.
Rex: I have to get inside the Easy Bake Module, Esther. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen? I’m a main character. What are they going to do, kill me?
Esther: You’ve seen this show before, right?
Jilly Kitzinger: No need to look nervous, Oswald; they’ve cut your speaking time in half. Here’s your new script. Two minutes, plus the word “REVELATION!”
Oswald Danes: Damn, man.
Captain Jack: [Apparates into the shadows]
Oswald Danes: My, what a striking figure he cuts in that coat.
Dr. Juarez: Mr. Sleazasy, if you call me “Mrs.” one more time, I am literally going to lose my shit.
Mr. Slezasky: Allrighty, then! “Miss” it is!
Dr. Juarez: DOCTOR! DOCTOR Juarez! I went to medical school longer than you lasted in grade school!
Mr. Slezasky: It’s so cute how you keep pretending women can be doctors. Anyway, how great is this place? It’s just like a World War I infirmary, only we want people to get sicker!
Dr. Juarez: Some people are as sick as it gets.
Mr. Sleazasky: I KNOW! ISN’T IT AWESOME?
BITCHES GET STUFF DONE
Rhys: I’ve got to admit, when you said you were dressing up like a nurse, I was expecting something a little … sluttier.
Gwen: [Breaks his jaw and then heals it with a Sonic Screwdriver]
Rhys: Right. Sorry. Where’d you get that thing?
Gwen: River Song. We’re kindred spirits.
Gwen’s Dad: Gwen? Is that you? Here in this Zombie Camp in the middle of the night? Well, it’s good to see you, Sweetheart. This place is lovely. They’re taking great care of me. Meals once a day. Weekly trips to the loo. Occasionally someone comes round to check on my health and swear when I’m not dead yet. I’m glad to be here.
Gwen: Could you stop being Welsh for like five seconds? This place blows. We’ve got to get you out of here. I’m not really what you’d call a “medical professional,” but I’ve heard the best thing for you to do after a heart attack is get so anxious that your adrenaline spikes through the roof and then go for a jog. Ready?
Gwen’s Dad: Yes, that does sound like a really smart plan, Gwenny. Tell your mother I loved her.