Strong Bad's Responses in Poker Night at the Inventory

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Poker Night at the Inventory has a lot of dialogue when the four characters interact with each other. Here are Strong Bad's responses.

General Responses

Strong Bad Folding

STRONG BAD: The river! I'd like to drown that card's family in a river.

STRONG BAD: I fold.

STRONG BAD: I'm gonna fold, and then sit here.

STRONG BAD: Come on! These cards is bloke.

STRONG BAD: Fold.

STRONG BAD: {looks at cards} I don't think so.

STRONG BAD: Nope.

STRONG BAD: {in a musical tone} This sucks!

STRONG BAD: Ha, no way!

STRONG BAD: I'm foldin' this crap!

STRONG BAD: Don't you worry about me not playing, guys. I'm gonna keep folding so you don't have to. You can thank me later.

STRONG BAD: Uhhh, no... Uhh, no... Uh, no.

Strong Bad Calling

STRONG BAD: Calling!

STRONG BAD: I'm calling!

STRONG BAD: Oh, I'm calling!

STRONG BAD: Call!

STRONG BAD: I call.

STRONG BAD: I'll call.

STRONG BAD: Oh, yeah! Uh, let's do this.

Strong Bad Responding To A Bad Card

STRONG BAD: What! {grumble}

Strong Bad Raising

STRONG BAD: Raise.

STRONG BAD: Let's make this a little interesting, shall we?

STRONG BAD: I'm raising!

STRONG BAD: Raisin' in the sun!

STRONG BAD: How do you feel about... another raise? Not the toughest of guys now, eh?

Strong Bad Betting

STRONG BAD: Betting!

STRONG BAD: I'll toss a few chippies into the pot! Chippy chippy.

Strong Bad Checking

STRONG BAD: OK. I check.

STRONG BAD: I check.

STRONG BAD: Check, check, check it out.

STRONG BAD: Maybe I won't check. Ohhhhhhhhhh... check.

Strong Bad Going All-In

STRONG BAD: Yeah. I'm all in.

STRONG BAD: I'm all in!

STRONG BAD: I'm going all in.

Strong Bad Talking About The Size of the Pot

STRONG BAD: Ooh. I could buy a new Compy with that pot. One with a half-core processor.

Strong Bad Taunting

STRONG BAD: Man, I would hate to play against me.

STRONG BAD: Call it! Fold! Call it! Fold! I'm inside your head!

STRONG BAD: {in a mocking tone} Oh, man! Do you even {exaggerates the word} know how to play?

STRONG BAD: Don't worry about your chippies. Little chippies.

STRONG BAD: This is as boring as hanging out with the tire when it's in one of it's moods.

STRONG BAD: Impressive folding, somethingface. Will you fold my laun-dray?

STRONG BAD: Maybe you're number and colorblind. Or just blind? Or just number?

Strong Bad Wins A Hand

WINSLOW: Strong Bad wins the hand.

STRONG BAD: I only play red cards. I mean, good cards.

STRONG BAD: All I gots is this... winning hand! Psyche! Face! Whoop! Plowmph!

STRONG BAD: {happily} Wow! What just happened?

TYCHO: You want me to say you won again?

STRONG BAD: You could if that's what happened!

TYCHO: Die a sad and gruesome, painful death.

STRONG BAD: Thanks, juys!

Strong Bad Responding To An All-In

STRONG BAD: Jeez St. Jeezum!

STRONG BAD: Ooh! {turns his head away and speaks softly, feigning indifference} I mean... cool, whatever.

STRONG BAD: Whoa!

Strong Bad Responding To A Player Elimination

STRONG BAD: Later, loser!

Strong Bad Responding To A Player Win

STRONG BAD: I guess that's a good hand, like a baby hand. You have baby hands.

Strong Bad Has Been Elminated From Play

WINSLOW: Strong Bad has been elminated from play.

STRONG BAD: Well, crap.

STRONG BAD: You know I let you win, right? I like to see how the other half lives sometimes.

Strong Bad Wagering The Dangeresque Too Glasses

STRONG BAD: Oh... uh... I couldn't fit my briefcase full of cash in these pants on account of my ample hind-bosom. But I do have these cool-cool fadey-fadey shadey Dangeresque glasses. They're worth like five ten thousand dollars-es. So, we're good. Right? {quietly} You guys bought that?

WINSLOW: If nobody else has a problem with it, Strong Bad will be buying in with collateral. Whoever knocks him out will receive his buy-in.

Conversations

Strong Bad and Max Conversations

STRONG BAD: So... Max. You're like one of those {pronounces as poke mons} pokemons, right?

MAX: {narrows eyes} My genus and phylum is a mystery to all mankind.

STRONG BAD: Because I'd love to see some prepubescent pointy-haired kid run in here and stick you inside of a baseball {laughs at the end of the word}. {in a high pitched voice, with a smile} That would be hilarious.

MAX: Are you talking about the red-capped kidnapper who terrorized the fauna on the upper west side for months?

STRONG BAD: Maybe.

MAX: Because Sam, Flint, and I caught him trying to stuff a chimpanzee into his napsack, and made him cry for his mommy.

MAX: Hey Strong Bad, ever visit New York City? It's a dreamland of concrete, schwarmastands, and random acts of violence.

STRONG BAD: No, but it looks like {referring to Tycho} web-comic over here is a regular visitor to New {puts emphasis on the word} Dork City. He he. {in a high pitched voice, with a smile} I bet he's got {raises his feet up and down} a little snowglobe {raises his arms} that says New Dork City.\

STRONG BAD: You guys should know that {raises his arms and shakes his head} I don't mind playing for such low stakes {narrows his eyes and shakes his head} I know you all must be strapped for cash during these... tough economic times.

MAX: I had a sizable checking account in 1992, but they closed it when Sam and I used it while learning to launder money.

STRONG BAD: Hey, Bunnym'an. How badly did those Telltales hose you on your licensing agreement?

MAX: Eh, Sam and I just focus on fighting crime. People have been making money on our exploits for decades.

STRONG BAD: No, I mean those incompetant dorks who captured maybe an ounce of our charm and charmisma in their terrible video game. Point on this, click on that. How 'bout I use MY fist on YOUR face, Telltales.

MAX: Um, maybe you have me confused for someone else. Yeah. I disfigure bad guys and fight crime in New York City. That's my thing.

STRONG BAD: We're being ex-ploi-ted.

MAX: {excitedly} Ooh, exploitation! Santa Claus subjugated an entire race of elves in Season Two and Three.

MAX: Hey, boxing glove guy. With a face like that, have you ever considered organized crime? Sam and I could come after you and we'd try not to rough you up too bad.

STRONG BAD: I dabble in nefarious activities. Like the time I stole the Strong Bad's Cool Game for Attractive People source code from those Telltale chumps.

MAX: Ooh! That sounds criminal.

STRONG BAD: Oh yeah. I pulled it off without a hitch. Got the code over to my boys at Videlectrix who turned the game into a triple platinum, triple pixel best-seller. In... Guam.

STRONG BAD: {in a fake acting voice} Other than homestarrunner.com, do you have any other {pronounces as fay-vor-ite} favorite websites, Max?

MAX: Huh? Oh, I've got some favorite sites for laying in wait for criminals and general n'eer'do-wells around the city if that's what you're asking.

STRONG BAD: {angrily} I said, do you have any favorite websites, Max? You're gonna cost me fifty bucks!

MAX: Oh! {clears throat} {in a fake acting voice} When I'm on the inter-net, I can't stay away from {pronouncing each character} www.telltalegames.com/store. {Max smiles}

STRONG BAD: I don't trust you one bit, ra-bbit.

MAX: {cheerily} It's OK. I don't trust myself.

STRONG BAD: How do we know you don't have a never-ending stack of aces wherever you put your gun?

MAX: {cheerily} Well, you don't. But you're welcome to look!

MAX: I don't know a lot about card games, truth be told. But, I take it you're a little bit of a beginner, yes?

STRONG BAD: Are you talking to {pronounces it as moy} moi?

MAX: You betcha. You're as green as the bologna in Sam's mini-fridge.

STRONG BAD: {angrily} Shut up, Stitch.

MAX: {cheerily} It's OK. It just means you have to adopt a strategy of wanton deception.

STRONG BAD: Hmm... Not the woist idea I ever hoid.

MAX: {furrows brow} Get into their heads.

Strong Bad and The Heavy Conversations

STRONG BAD: Hey, Heavym'n? Do you think you could take care of The King of Town for me?

THE HEAVY: I can assassinate King, yes. Is expensive though.

STRONG BAD: Whoa, whoa, whoa. By "take care of", I meant maybe you and me sneak into his room and shave off half his mustache.

THE HEAVY: I am not best at sneaking.

STRONG BAD: Maybe we could confront him in a dark alley then?

THE HEAVY: This is better. That way blood wash away in rain.

STRONG BAD: Oh, man. You're going to totally murder the King of Town, aren't you? {in a happy tone} Oh, well!

THE HEAVY: Maybe you and I box?

STRONG BAD: I can't risk hurting my beautiful face. It's the franchise.

THE HEAVY: {cheerily} We spar. For fun.

STRONG BAD: I... don't think so.

STRONG BAD: {angrily} Why do you keep calling me "tiny heavy"?

THE HEAVY: {cheerily} You are heavy. Tiny. No? You are RED team. You have killing gloves of boxing. You earned these for boxing. You earned these for being great killer.

THE HEAVY: You should try out for RED team.

STRONG BAD: Hmm... I guess I could join your team of ruthless killers and lame hat-wearers and watch you get grenaded by eight year olds. I will play the role of team mother and Lord High Ragamuffin.

THE HEAVY: You take many bullets before dying I think.

STRONG BAD: {happily} I likes the heroically tragic direction of my character.

STRONG BAD: Hey, heavym'n. What's your current living situache?

THE HEAVY: {cheerily} I live in RED barracks. Is nice. There is foos table.

STRONG BAD: What do you say to taking a room at the House of Strong?

THE HEAVY: {enthusiastically} There is vacancy?

STRONG BAD: Well, first you have to engage in the time honored tradition of tossing the fat hump of dump that currently occupies your room out the second story window.

THE HEAVY: {angrily} This is enemy?

STRONG BAD: Strong Sad won't put up much of a fight. He doesn't put up much of a pulse as it is.

THE HEAVY: Tiny Heavy.

STRONG BAD: {in an agitated tone} What is it?

THE HEAVY: Do you get the nightmares?

STRONG BAD: I get the jibblie nightmares. There's this one where Homestar is a giant cheese blintz, and Marzipan holds me at gunpoint and makes me eat him, and... uh... uh oh. {shakes and waves his hands} Jibblie, jibblie.

THE HEAVY: {with wide eyes} I am talking about visions of endless suffering. Dead doctors, everywhere. Spy cannot be found.

STRONG BAD: No. But that sounds like the jibblies, man.

THE HEAVY: I do not like this "jibblies".

THE HEAVY: {cheerily} What weapon do you carry, tiny Heavy?

STRONG BAD: Oh, you know, I got the bazooka, grappling gun, glue gun, my special nunchuck gun. And, of course, I got {holds up his fists} these babies. {kisses his fists one at a time}

Strong Bad and Tycho Conversations

STRONG BAD: At least this is more fun than poker night at Homestar's. Marzipan is always walking around au-natural trying to get everyone to play no-loser Candy Land.

TYCHO: What's no-loser Candy Land?

STRONG BAD: I don't know. Loser!

STRONG BAD: Your hair looks like a greasy hedgehog... unassociated with any video game license. That went to the barber and said, "Just a little off the suck, please".

TYCHO: People always assume hedgehogs are greasy. Members of the order Erinaceomorpha are proud and extremely fastidious mammals.

STRONG BAD: You said it, not me.

TYCHO: If one can overcome his trepidation at the sight of her spines, the hedgehog can make a wonderful pet. {seductively} Or... companion. {Strong Bad narrows his eyes and stares at Tycho} Their spines are not spines at all, but soft hairs made firm with keratin. At first she may bristle at your touch, {raises eyebrows} but as she warms to you, she may place a tiny paw on the glass, whispering "touch me". {moving his hand like a mouth} "Touch me like no man ever could". {closes his eyes, opens his mouth, and moves his hand over his face in a seductive manner. Then opens his eyes and gets embarrassed} Uh, I'm sorry... you were saying?

STRONG BAD: {with his eyes still narrowed} Oh nothing. Just puking in my pants.

STRONG BAD: Hey, nerd-rancher. How many hits does your fansite-for-babies that I hate get a month?

TYCHO: {with a smug expression on his face} I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing... A couple million.

STRONG BAD: Ha, right! I get it. A few blajillion. Like on Monday, you got several ka-tillion hits. And on Tuesday, like half a blazill-illion.

TYCHO: Those weren't even real numbers you just said.

STRONG BAD: I'm not the only one making up numbers.

TYCHO: {angrily} No, for real. It's like millions! I don't know how many millions.

STRONG BAD: Right. Well so does our website, bozo. {quickly} And so does Bozo's website.

TYCHO: How do you do anything even remotely interesting with hands like that? {gets a smug look on his face}

STRONG BAD: {angrily, with narrowed eyes} You mean besides punching your groin-face in the face-groin?

TYCHO: I mean lets say you {raises hand and shakes head} {puts emphasis on the word} somehow get an opportunity with the ladies?

STRONG BAD: {angrily, with narrowed eyes. Raises arms.} Somehow! I had to cancel, like, five dates with nine supermodels just to be here.

TYCHO: {quickly} Right, right, right. {narrows eyebrows in a confused manner} But what about the bra factor? How do you work the clasp?

STRONG BAD: Ha! Like they don't just {raises arms} fly off when they enter my {narrows eyes, shakes his head, and raises his arm} "natural musk fog".

Strong Bad, Max, and Tycho Conversations

MAX: Did I ever tell you the time Flint caught Artie Flopshark, the poker instructor, stealing money from the tenants next store to our office?

STRONG BAD: No, but this floppyshark sounds like my type of dude.

MAX: Flint saw Artie going door to door telling some stupid story about having to run really far or a bunch of people were going to die. And people were just handing him stacks of cash!

TYCHO: That actually sounds like a charity thing.

MAX: Then why, pray-tell, throughout his entire vicious pummeling did Artie insist he needed "10K"?

TYCHO: He didn't need "10K", he was running 10 k-lomiters for charity.

MAX: Well, long story short, Flint broke both of his legs and beat him to within an inch of his life. So... he wasn't running anywhere after that.

STRONG BAD: I hear the cold ones are pretty good here.

TYCHO: Aren't you, like, ten?

STRONG BAD: You, shut face! They also shake up some decent banan-ag. {in a disinterested monotone} Banang. Bana-ang. Ba...

MAX: Stop it! {throws up his hands in frustration}

STRONG BAD: Nang.

Strong Bad, The Heavy, and Tycho Conversations

THE HEAVY: What do you do with life?

TYCHO: Me?

THE HEAVY: Yes. What is possible with tiny, frail body?

TYCHO: {nervously} I occupy myself with simulations... of various kinds.

THE HEAVY: What is this?

TYCHO: {nervously} I leverage technology... to augment my imagination. You know. Thereby...

STRONG BAD: Let me help you, Ivan. He lives in his parent's basement and subsists on cheese doodles and rejection.

STRONG BAD: Hey, Heavy. You know any {makes quotes movements with his hands} hot Russian spies?

THE HEAVY: I hate spies.

STRONG BAD: But you gotta have the inside line on some deadly minxes named Natalya or Khrushchevia, right?

THE HEAVY: You want hot spy?

STRONG BAD: Am I not wrestle man? {raises arms} Do I not wrestle bleed?

THE HEAVY: I have friend {raises his arm in a confirming manner} who get you a hot spy.

STRONG BAD: {excitedly, raising his arms} Get him on the two-way, man!

THE HEAVY: His name is Pyro.

TYCHO: {smugly} Just real quick... the spy is hot in this case, because it is on fire.

STRONG BAD: {sadly} Oh... not as good.

TYCHO: All of this card playing has me a bit parched. I could use a stiff drink.

STRONG BAD: {angrily, with narrowed eyes} What's your poison, nerd-monger?

TYCHO: {smugly} A gin fizz. Depending on the occasion.

STRONG BAD: Ha! '{points toward Tycho} You're a girl. You pledged in a sorority in college, and you learned to make that drink there. Now, the big beefer, the morning pukies, the dirty sweatsock. Those are the drinks of champee-ons.

TYCHO: {with raised, narrowed eyebrows} How about you, Heavy Weapons Guy? I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're a vodka guy.

THE HEAVY: Peach bellini, but bubbles can give me headache.

Strong Bad, The Heavy, and Max Conversations

STRONG BAD: I wonder if this dump is haunted?

MAX: {cheerily} Ooh, I hope so. There's something about being able to terrorize a spectral being without it up and dying on you that {furrows eyebrows} I just love.

THE HEAVY: {sadly, lowers his head} I do not like ghost.

MAX: It's OK Mr. Weapons. I've got extensive experience with zombies and vampires. {points toward himself} I can handle a little ghost.

THE HEAVY: {with large eyes} You will take care of ghost for me?

MAX: {cheerily} You betcha.

THE HEAVY: {cheerily, nods his head} I like you, tiny rabbit.

Conversations With A Non-Verbal Reaction By Strong Bad

THE HEAVY: Hmm, I must think about this.

MAX: Hey, uh. Mister Weapons Guy, I didn't take you for the thinking type.

THE HEAVY: I think very much.

MAX: Don't worry. I haven't had a salient thought since Prince put out Purple Rain.

THE HEAVY: I know this music. Is good! Is new, no? {Strong Bad, Tycho, and Max all look at the Heavy quizzically.}

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