Morgan: What are we gonna do?
Kemper: I don't know... uh... we gotta call the cops, I guess.
Morgan: Um, yeah, on a list of bad ideas, that one goes, way up there. Oh, police officers, please, as you inspect a crime scene, which is now our van, please, ignore the colorful pinata, filled with marijuana, in case you happen to come across it, because it played no part, you know, whatsoever in the demise of this unfortunate, young, woman.
Andy: Well, I guess that's what brains look like... Sort of like... lasagna... kind of... Okay, I'll shut up now.
Sheriff Hoyt: You kids shouldn't have messed with that little girl. You brought this all on yourself.
Pepper: I don't know about you guys, but I happen to like my teeth right where they are.
Morgan: Will somebody tell her to please stop singing?
Sheriff Hoyt: I bet she's real unhappy, real sorry that you're getting fuckin' her blood all over your goddamn arm. You know, back when I was a young patrolman, I used to love wrapping up these young honies.
Andy: Yeah, I bet you did.
Sheriff Hoyt: Yeah, cop me a little bit of a feel every now and then, you know. Oh, look at that. She's kind of wet down there. What you boys been doing with this dead body anyway?
Andy: Can we please finish this?
Kemper: Morgan, how are you an expert on the dumbest shit?
Sheriff Hoyt: Excuse me, you mind getting the fuck outta my way, son?
Sheriff Hoyt: I smell bullshit.





Answer: I'm pretty sure it was Felix the Cat.