Captain Holt: According to a recent study, the physical act of smiling can improve your mood. I suggest we give it a shot. Eh? Now you all try. Big smiles, bigger, bigger! Great, now we just have to stay like this for the next two hours. Can you feel it working?

Captain Holt: Gina, why aren't you dancing?
Gina: I can't. I'm in the middle of a feud with the "that's not a knife" guy from "Crocodile Dundee." He's being a real bitch.

Sergeant Jeffords: It's a beginning-of-work hang.
Captain Holt: And why are you all in such good moods?
Amy: Because you told us that you're miserable, too. And that means you'll fight to get us off the night shift, right?
Captain Holt: Well, here's what I have to say about that: The night shift stinks. Stinks like a butt. And I will do everything in my power to make sure we get back to the day shift. What are we standing around for? Put some Sousa on already. I want to get wild.

Jake: But I want to apologize.
Charles: For what?
Jake: Well, I kept talking about how I wanted everything to go back to normal, but if that actually happened, this little guy wouldn't be here. Or is he big? I don't know what size kids are supposed to be, or anything about kids, really. I think maybe that's part of the problem. It doesn't matter. I got a present for Nikolaj.

Jake: Now, then, locking the caboodle.
Captain Holt: The "ca-boo-dale" will be placed in the center of the bullpen.
Jake: Right, and what is the name of the store at the mall that sells the sticky pastries?
Captain Holt: You mean the "See-nay-bone"?
Jake: Yeah, that was it. Thanks. Continue.

Jake: [gasps] The caboodle!
Amy: The caboodle!
Captain Holt: The "ca-boo-dale"!

Sergeant Jeffords: Look, I wasn't hiding. I was doing my work. Hitchcock and Scully were with me.
Jake: Were they, or perhaps were they distracted by your brilliant pizza ruse?
Scully: Totally distracted. I ate two whole pies. Folded 'em up like tacos.

Gina: Check it out! Rainstick. Keeping it.
Jake: No, you're not. That is a crime.
Gina: Untrue. Once you steal something, none of your stuff belongs to you.
Adrian Pimento: I've heard that too.
Jake: No, you haven't. No one has. Put that down.

Captain Holt: The question on the table is, do we add a velvet-voiced drunkard to our caroling group, or do we lose miserably like a bunch of miserable losers? I say we do it, and I'm the boss. Therefore, meeting adjourned.

Amy: Sir, say something.
Captain Holt: I'm sorry, but there's been a police emergency. There's a bomb.
[crowd murmurs] Not here, far away, but they still need us. So Merry Christmas. And don't think about the bomb. Bye.
Hitchcock: That sounded great.
Sergeant Jeffords: Not now, Hitchcock.

Charles: Hey, is there anything on that tablet that will lead us to his toy?
Jake: I don't know, it's locked, but don't worry. Our tech guys will get it open in no time.
Charles: Pssh, I don't have time for those dorks.
Jake: What? But you love Ted and Craig. You fly kites with them every weekend.
Charles: They're good guys. Give me the damn tablet!

Captain Holt: We cannot let this stand. But there's no way we can beat them. What do we do?
Hitchcock: My rapping's still on the table.
Captain Holt: It's not even in the dining room.

Captain Holt: All right, everyone. Listen up. We have a situation. Ten minutes ago, a prison van overturned on Nevins Street. It was carrying nine convicts who are now at large. It's our job to bring them in. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a manhunt.
Jake: (GASPS) A manhunt. Okay, what I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse in the area. Your fugitive's name is Dr. Richard Kimble.
Captain Holt: There must be some sort of error. There are nine fugitives, and none of them are named Kimble.
Jake: I didn't kill my wife!
Captain Holt: What?
Jake: You're supposed to go, "I don't care!"
Captain Holt: I don't care.
Jake: Let the manhunt begin.

Hitchcock: I have a similar question about browser histories.
Captain Holt: Just throw your computer away.
Hitchcock: Roger that.

Mark Devereaux: Hey, Sarah, what's the status on the toilet seat heater for my trailer? It's day four of cold butt cheeks going on over here.
Rosa: I'm sorry, but this is official police business.
Mark Devereaux: Putting the screws to her? I got this. Sarah, you're a P.A, what do you make a year? Two, three hundred thousand dollars?
Sarah: 30.
Mark Devereaux: Hundred thousand dollars a year?
Sarah: 30 thousand.
Mark Devereaux: Oh. Ew. And yet Cassie Sinclair pulls down millions sitting on her butt while you bust your hump running her errands. I bet that makes you angry, angry enough to steal her laptop? My gut says yes.
Rosa: Okay, that's enough.
Mark Devereaux: You're right. She's not gonna talk. Sometimes I wonder why I do this job.
Rosa: You don't.