Botulism on the Hoof

Howard: Oh, that's really great! Botulism on the hoof!
Dick: Don't even look at it, Howard, you're over the deadline
Jeff: The new fascist ensemble says that you can't have anything to eat, man, 'cause you're over the deadline
Howard: What's that mean?
Dick: I told you to be down here at noon, man, you're five minutes late, so you can't order, listen, listen . .
Howard: You . . . told [...], man
Dick: These guys ordered like ten minutes ago
Howard: It's like having Ronald Reagan for a road manager . . . what can you make me in two minutes?
Dick: The deal is that, uh . .
Howard: . . . besides sick!
Dick: If you help me, uh, . . . for the airport, man, you be able to woof down some kind of scarf out there
Howard: What do you mean, "Woof down some kind of scarf out there"?
Dick: Then you can stick your fingers in your nose
Howard: I'm hungry, man
Dick: Eat a payday candy bar
Howard: Listen, how about a little dry cereal? How 'bout an orange juice
Dick: Never happened, man
Jeff: Hey, get it on tape, that Barber is a doofus, man