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Writer: Carrie Kemper, Director: Randall Einhorn
Summary (NBC): Fears are revealed on the spookiest Halloween in Dunder Mifflin history — Erin struggles to make the Halloween party at the office exactly how Andy and Robert California want it. Meanwhile, Jim and Pam argue about whether ghosts are real, and Dwight bonds with Robert’s 11-year-old son, Bert.
The Office Spooked extras
The Office Spooked rating
In a poll conducted October 27-31, 2011, Tallyheads rated this episode: 7.05/10
See all The Office Season 8 ratings.
The Office Spooked quotes
Manually transcribed by tanster. :)
Andy: I have three simple rules: don’t be offensive, don’t be cliche, and don’t take the first two rules too seriously.
Andy: Costume vetoed.
Kelly: This is ridiculous. Why can’t there just be two Kate Middletons?
Meredith: Why is it such a shock that I follow the royal story?
Meredith: Warms my heart. Thinking about them two kids. Doing it.
Jim: I am Chris Bosh.
Kelly: What are you, some kind of Jamaican zombie woman?
Dwight: Has no one heard of Kerrigan? From StarCraft? Queen of Blades?
Toby: (As Dwight) “As soon as I get my weapons back, I’m going to kill you.” But there I am at Thanksgiving, alive, you know. I’m a lucky turkey.
Andy: (Reading Robert’s text) “Looking forward to Halloween party. Expectations are high.” Scared the shit out of me.
Erin: How would you rate me as a receptionist on a scale of 1 to 3?
Erin: You are the best in the biz. I can’t deny.
Pam: “That’s what everyone sees. That’s the man in black.”
Jim: No! My wife does not believe in ghosts.
Jim: Yeah, I had just told you about the day I met the Blue Angels. I figured you had to top it.
Pam: I don’t know what to tell you, Jim, but I saw a ghost.
Robert: And you, on this day of fantasy, are… a laborer.
Robert: Everyone, this is Bert, my son. Bert, this is… a paper company.
Bert: Can I use your computer? I need to check a hurricane.
Andy: Wow, who shot our grown-up party with a kiddie ray gun?
Gabe, Kelly, and Toby: Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones… now we’re the skeleton crew!
Robert: You feeling fulfilled in your life?
Robert: Yes. Dying alone, that is very scary.
Bert: Very low pressure in the Sargasso Sea. Warm air from South America. Cold air from Greenland. All signs point to the perfect storm.
Dwight: I’m a Jamaican zombie woman. Leave me alone, ghoul.
Bert: If you’re going to be a Zerg, at least be a lurker. Not some girl.
Dwight: Kerrigan is ruler of the Zerg Swarm!
Bert: Yeah, she also has boobs!
Dwight: Yeah, but no nipples!
Andy: Maybe we could mix a little more 13 into the PG.
Jim: He didn’t have a Buster sign around him?
Jim: I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.
Pam: Dwight, are you eating a stick?
Dwight: it’s a root, you idiot.
Bert: Everyone hates you.
Dwight: That’s really rude! I don’t tell you hurricanes suck, even though it’s true.
Bert: What do you like, tornadoes?
Dwight: Try influenza.
Bert: Oh yeah? What’s the vaccine you could take to avoid a hurricane?
Kevin: I’m only scared of real things. Like serial killers and kidnappers. Not things that don’t exist, like ghosts or mummies.
Kevin: Why on earth would a museum put a mummy in it?
Erin: Get out of here, little kid party! Nobody loves you! And clean up your room! Grown ups are going to use it later!
Gabe: The cinema of the unsettling is a growing film movement. The most well known film in the genre is an hour long shot of a squirrel with diarrhea.
Erin: This game is called Pecker Poker. It’s the game of cards that gets you hard.
Andy: Did you think I was going to fire you?
Robert: I’m never uncomfortable.
Pam: Jim doesn’t let me wash his NFL jersey during playoffs. How is this any less logical?
Phyllis: Is she Asian?
Erin: I don’t know. She’s from somewhere, I bet. Maybe from the forest.
Creed: You don’t live as long as I have without a healthy fear of snakes, Bobby.
Meredith: Honestly? Jim gives me the creeps.
Robert: What am I up to.
Robert: When I was a boy, there was an empty house, just up the hill from my family’s. It was rumored a man committed suicide there after being possessed by the devil. One day, a young woman, Lydia, moved into the house with her infant child. That very night, Lydia was awakened by a loud, heinous, hissing sound. She walked to the nursery, and there, in baby’s crib, was a snake wrapped around baby’s neck, squeezing tighter and tighter.
Creed: Oh my goodness.
Robert: The crib was full of dirt, baby struggled to free itself from underneath, reaching and clawing, gasping for air. Embalmed bodies rose from their sarcophagi, lurching toward baby. For they were mummies. Amongst them was a man, tall, slim. Almost instinctively, she turned to her husband. “Oh wait,” she thought, “I don’t have a husband.” For Lydia and her husband had had an argument, one they couldn’t get past. Each night, they slept one inch farther apart, until one night, Lydia left. It was about this time, she lost herself in imaginary worlds. She had quit the book club, the choir, citing something about their high expectations. Her lips slowly grew together from disuse. Every time she wanted to act and didn’t, another part of her face hardened, until it was stone. And that fevered night, she rushed to the nursery, threw open the door, “baby, are you okay?” Baby sat up slowly, turned to mother, and said, “I’m fine, bitch. I’m fine.”
Robert: Fear plays an interesting role in our lives. How dare we let it motivate us. How dare we let it into our decision making, into our livelihoods, into our relationships. It’s funny, isn’t it, we take a day a year to dress up in costume and celebrate fear.
Bert: I’m the CEO’s son. Pack your things. You’re done.
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