Psych Season 1

Poker? I Barely Know Her

2007.02.23    

Dan Lauria  Debra Mooney  Kris Lemche

1985

Henry: No more poker, no more gambling. You’re too young.
Young Shawn: Dad, I don’t gamble. I win.
Henry: You win? Oh. And approximately how often do you lose?
Young Shawn: I don’t know.
Henry: You don’t know.
Young Shawn: Well I haven’t lost yet.

Henry: Son, listen to me. Just because you can do something doesn’t mean that you should.

Henry: No matter how good you think you there’s always somebody who’s better. And there’s one rule in gambling: the house always wins. Eventually.

Present Day

Gus: Okay. Double-or-nothing. Trivia question this time. History.
Shawn: Grover Cleveland.
Gus: Damn! How do you do that?
Shawn: It’s the sweetness.

Shawn: Oh my god. Dad. What are you doing here?
Henry: Nice. Is that the way you greet all the people that come through your door?
Shawn: That’s exactly how I greet everyone. Maybe that’s why business is down.

Shawn: Or perhaps you’re referring to my license to kill. Revoked. Problems at the Kazakhstan border. I could give you the details but then I’d have to kill you. Which I can’t do because my license to kill has been revoked.

Shawn: Believe it or not we have an eleven o’clock. So maybe we should wrap this up.
Henry: It’s a little too late for that, Shawn. I am your eleven o’clock.

Henry: If I had known that Peterson was going to insist on hiring you, I would have blasted your character outright and I would have mentioned your unnatural fear of pointy things.
Shawn: Ah! Distaste for pointy things.
Henry: Please. Just do me this one favor. would you listen to the man’s story. Tell him you can’t help and send him to the cops. And whatever you do, don’t do it with all that rolling your eyes around and all that… floppy crap.
Shawn: First of all, I don’t flop around all the time. My game is predicated on finesse.

Bill Peterson (Dan Lauria): I need to find my son. Can you help?
Gus: Well, Mr. Peterson, this sounds like a case for the police. Let me get you a number.
Shawn: Gus, don’t be a gooey chocolate chip cookie. This is precisely what we do here, sir. We find people. We’ll find your Brandon.

Juliet: I just thought it would be nice to surprise him.
Chief Vick: Oh… Detective Lassiter does not like surprises.
Juliet: Of course he likes surprises. Everyone likes surprises.
Chief Vick: Detective Lassiter has a very particular comfort zone. And you don’t even want to know what we now call the Secret Santa Debacle of 2005.

Shawn as a player is about to lose a finger: Well Gus. It appears there’s a seat opening up. Still, I think our best course of action would be to— {snip}
Gus: Get the hell out of here.

Shawn: I will now become a conduit to your son’s thoughts. Please. Clear your mind and your nasal passages. This of nothing but Brandon and those chips. Gus, present spuds!

Mrs. Lassiter (Debra Mooney): Well then who the hell are you?
Juliet: I’m his partner.
Mrs. Lassiter: But… you’re a woman.
Juliet: Yes. Shocking, isn’t it.
Mrs. Lassiter: What are you, fulfilling a quota?

Shawn: Woah woah, woah. Wait a second here. Time out.
Gus: What?
Shawn: You’re BigKitty75?
Gus: Yeah. As in “the kitty”. You know, the pot.
Shawn: The Kitty?
Gus: Yes. 75.
Shawn: Seventy-four other BigKitties came before you?
Gus: Yes, Shawn. There were seventy-four.

Gus: Felicia Fancybottom? What am I, a James Bond villain?

Shawn: It took someone cashing in a very old favor to get us involved at all. Now you are not going to be able to play your way out of this hole, baby boy. So pack it in. Pull the plug. Shut it down. Leave the dead meat in the freezer and put on your Sunday best, ’cause it’s Arbor Day, baby!

Brandon Peterson (Kris Lemche): You know what, I screwed up on my own, I am going to face him on my own.
Shawn: That’s very Cameron Frye of you.
Brandon: It’s Cameron who?
Shawn: Wow. Are we that much older than you?

Shawn: Something’s bothering me, dude. I’m never wrong.
Gus: You’re always wrong. What are you talking about?
Shawn: You should be a better poker player, Gus. That was a pretty good bluff.

Ronnie: You think you can mess with my head too?
Shawn: Here’s the thing: I’m a psychic. So if I had to guess, which I don’t, I’d say yes. Yes. I can mess with your head. And I can put an entire sandwich in your hair.

Shawn: The chips say you’re a cheater cheater pumpkin-eater.
Berger: Is that right?
Shawn: Yeah.

Berger: If you were psychic, I wouldn’t be cleaning your clock right now.
Shawn: “Cleaning my clock”? What does that mean, Berger? What, you take time out of your day to clean another man’s timepiece? And if so, that would be a bad thing?

Lassiter: Why are these people at my house?
Juliet: They’re your friends.
Lassiter: No. They’re not.
Juliet: Yeah. They are. I got them out of your address book.
Lassiter: You took my book?
Juliet: Yes. I admit it. I opened your desk. I didn’t want to load you up with a bunch of work people so I just invited the ones with stars by their names.
Lassiter: These are all people I put in jail. The stars are repeat offenders.