He Dead

1989

Henry: Wow. A hundred and fifty degree temperature.
Young Shawn: I’m probably too sick to go to Jim and [?]’s house. You better call and cancel.
Henry: Yeah, right after that I’ll call the coroner. A hundred and fity degree temperature, you’re a dead man walking.
Young Shawn: I am?
Henry: Yeah. I give you five, ten minutes to live. Tops. The good news is this happened soon enough for your mother and I to start over again. Maybe this time we’ll have a girl.
Young Shawn: How’d you know I was faking?
Henry: Well Shawn, your first mistake was sticking the thermometer in boiling water.

Henry: Shawn, there’s something weird about every family. That’s what makes America great.

Present Day

Gus: A map? That’s your secret weapon?
Shawn: This is not typical map my friend. With large words that people don’t understand. Like “latitudinal”. And “east”.

Shawn: We’ve been given a great responsibility.
Gus: How so?
Shawn: Warren Clayton’s dying wish. Man, what if that had been your dad. Or my dad. Or some other random black guy and white guy found him with one breath left. would you want those dudes to fulfill our dad’s final wish? Especially if it was about us?
Gus: You think of me as some random black dude?

Shawn: Mrs. Clayton, I’m receiving a psychic transmission from your husband. It’s really more of a voicemail, if I’m being honest. Maybe more of a status update. Perhaps a twitter.
Gus: I believe it’s called a “tweet”.
Shawn: There’s no way I’m saying that.

Mrs. Clayton (Christine Baranski): I’m really quite shocked.
Lassiter: You are?
Mrs. Clayton: Yes, it just doesn’t show on my face because of years of Botox.

Mrs. Clayton: What resources will you be needing?
Shawn: Re- ? Okay, one: a case of Red Vines, individually-wrapped. Two: a mini-fridge filled with Cactus Cooler. We need a Shamwow…
Gus: A new laptop. Tell her we need a new laptop.
Shawn: A new laptop. Preferably one made of Red Vines.

Shawn about Gus’ coughing fit: He’s allergic to rich white people.

Mrs. Clayton: I pay for results, Mr. Spencer. My new chin is proof of that.

Rosa: Who is this man? Make me make him leave.

Chief Vick: You better come up with something soon, Mr. Spencer, or this will be the second time you’re fired from the same case.

Shawn: If your family’s hiding anything else, we will find it.
Mrs. Clayton: We don’t hide anything except large amounts of money, illegitimate children and, ah, the fact that we’re Jewish.

Gus: Let me guess. You’ve got a loosely-formed idea that shouldn’t work on paper but ultimately proves to be reasonably successful?

Gus: “Relationship Shawn” needs to step up his game.
Shawn: Okay, first of all, there is no “relationship Shawn” or “Boyfriend Shawn”. There’s just regular Shawn and Malibu Shawn. You know that.

Shawn: Alright, after calling every single car sevice in Bakersfield—
Gus: Two.

Shawn: Gus, note to self. Remember 1600 Joshua Lane.
Gus: You can’t give me your note to self. It’s a note to yourself.
Shawn: Fair enough. “At that moment, Shawn found himself alone. Unable to face the journey ahead.”
Gus: You can’t do your own omniscient narration either.

Nina Thomas: May I help you?
Shawn: I certainly hope so. My name is Shawn Spencer, this is my associate, Jazz Hands. {Gus does Jazz hands}

Nina Thomas: You guys believe in karma, don’t you?
Shawn: Yes, but only because we’re karma chameleons.
Gus: We come and go.

Nina Thomas: I can’t believe you think I would kill my own father.
Shawn: In my defense, I initially thought you were sleeping with him. {to Charles} How pumped are you that I was wrong about that.

Juliet: He’s dead.
Shawn: Man. Why does this always happen?
Gus: We have to start checking first.

Shawn: I think I breathed in some dead guy.