Eileen Essell: Mrs. Connelly
Mrs. Connelly : I couldn't help noticing that Alex left the house this morning while you stayed home.
Nancy Kendricks : I was downsized from my job.
Mrs. Connelly : Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm sure it's for the best. Let Mr. Rose get out there and bring home the bacon. I always thought it was strange your husband staying home while you were out there providing.
Nancy Kendricks : Well, he's a writer.
Mrs. Connelly : Writer? The man naps more than a newborn pup. What's he writing about? Sheep?
Mrs. Connelly : [Mrs. Connelly sees the hitman] I knew they'd send a brute.
[she shoots him]
Mrs. Connelly : Tell me about yourselves. What do you do Alan?
Alex Rose : Uh, it's Alex.
Nancy Kendricks : Alex is a writer.
Mrs. Connelly : Oh, a writer. I always thought of that as more of a hobby than a real job. I suppose I'm forgetting about Joyce.
Alex Rose : Joyce. James Joyce. Of course. Wonderful writer.
Mrs. Connelly : He died drunk and penniless.
Mrs. Connelly : It went bang-bang-bangety-bang-bang-BANG-BANG!
Nancy Kendricks : [Mrs. Conelly is saying she has her sink clogged] You don't have a disposal.
Mrs. Connelly : I don't?
Alex Rose : Whew, it's really clogged!
[after getting it out]
Alex Rose : Whew, all right!
Mrs. Connelly : [Nancy throws up down the disposal] Looks like you two got some kind of bug. Good thing Officer Dan took me to have a flu shot.
Nancy Kendricks : Mrs. Connelly, let me come right to the point. Alex and I are trying to have a baby.
Mrs. Connelly : [whispers] I saw. In the living room.
Nancy Kendricks : Right. The thing is that when we do have our baby, we're gonna need the upstairs.
Mrs. Connelly : I don't understand dear.
Alex Rose : We're willing to pay you... something.
Mrs. Connelly : You want me to leave?
Alex Rose : Don't you think you'd be more comfortable with people who are more in your... demographic?
Nancy Kendricks : In sunny Miami Beach!
Mrs. Connelly : I'm Irish. I'd sizzle up like a sausage. Besides, this is my home.
Alex Rose : Home? The Emerald Isle! Back to the old sod!
Mrs. Connelly : Now there's a thought. I haven't been back home for fifty years.
Mrs. Connelly : I don't drink meself, it's a sin.