- Reverend Putty: Principal Fakey is right, Orel. Regular murder is bad enough, but in one disgusting act you murdered millions of potential people.
- Orel: Whoops.
- Reverend Putty: Whoops is right. That's a major sin, my boy.
- Orel: But, I didn't know.
- Reverend Putty: Orel, haven't you heard the handy rhyme? Number One, gold like God made the sun. Number Two, good Lord help me go poo. Number Three, the devil sets my sperm free.
- Clay: Babies are made by God's chef visiting ladies at night while they're asleep and injects them with the delicious glaze from his holy pastry bag.