Cole Sprouse Quotes
Jughead: Maybe I should put down the conspiracy theories and do the homework? You’re underpaid, aren’t you?
Mrs. Burble: And overqualified. Which means I don’t expect anyone to change habits overnight. If you’re going to see this mystery about the Baxter Brothers authorship through, don’t fall back on conjecture or righteous anger. Do the work. You know, investigate.
Jughead: That’s strike three, nowhere is going to be delivering through this ice storm. How about I just raid the vending machine?
Betty: Yes, I can finally live out my Charlie Brown fantasy of having junk food for Thanksgiving dinner. Yes! [Smacks bed!] Okay, I will have Stonewall’s finest chocolate chip cookies, chips, soda, and candies, please.
[Jughead slides off the bed]
Betty: Get yourself something too!
Mr. Dupont: Mr. Chipping and I have conferred and decided on the theme for the Baxter Brothers writing competition. Who’s interested?
[Everyone’s hands raise except Jughead]
Mr. Chipping: Jughead?
Jughead: Oh no, I’m in … and I’m winning. And please, Mr. Chipping, from here on out, you can call me Forsythe the 3rd. It’s after my grandfather.
Mr. Dupont: Wonderful, then you and your classmates will be challenged to devise the perfect murder. That’s your theme. Let the bloodbath begin.
Donna: Enjoying yourself, Jones?
Jughead: So, this is what one percenters do for fun? Play Murder. Oh, by the way…
Donna: Wicked, Jones.
Jughead: I should…
Donna: Yea, go on then. Let me die in peace.
[Donna faints dramatically]
Betty: Meanwhile, I feel guilty that I wasn’t there for you, Jug.
Jughead: No. Well, actually, you were there for me. Thinking about you was the only thing kept me from losing hope. And my sanity. I think deep down I know that if I ever went missing, you’d be the one to find me.
Betty: I would, Jug. I promise.
Jughead: [Heavy breathing] What? Where?
Mr. Chipping: I’m always amazed at my students’ antics. How they get extra … creative at Halloween.
Mr. Chipping: Don’t take it personally, Jughead. It’s a Stonewall Prep tradition.
Donna: It means you belong now.
Jughead: Belong to what?
Brett: To us, of course.
Moose: I mean, I’m 18, and the army doesn’t care who you are and where you’re from.
Jughead: Dude, what Brett did, spreading that article about you was a real scumbag move. But you can’t let him win. He wants you to leave. Hell, he wants me to leave. Let’s not give him that satisfaction, okay?
Moose: Easy for you to say, Jug. They’re not calling you, “Gargoyle Boy.”
Betty: I’m just happy this nightmare is finally over.
[Doorbell rings and a mysterious VHS is found outside]
Jughead: Famous last words.
Donna: But, a word of advice, Newbie. I’d watch your back around Brett.
Jughead: Why? What is his deal?
Donna: He’s a diplo-brat. “Son a diplomat.” Thinks it gives him immunity to do whatever he wants.
Jughead: Like beat me up?
Donna: That’s not how Brett fights. Okay, it’s psychological with him, and he’s not afraid to play dirty.
Jughead: Okay, I’ll take your advice.
Jughead: Hey, you Forsythe?
Brett: Brett Weston Wallis. Mr. Chipping asked me to roll out the red carpet.
[Brett shakes hands with Jughead]
Jughead: You can just call me Jughead.
Brett: I prefer Forsythe. Who’s your friend?
Betty: Betty Cooper.
[Brett shakes hands with Betty and eyes her up and down]
Brett: Cute. Very … Sweet Valley High.
Jughead: And if anyone is scared of bears, well don’t be because Archie’s been attacked by, like what, multiple times and still survived? [Laughs]
Archie: Hey. I wear my scars proudly.
Cheryl: Well, well, well. Stop the presses! The Riverdale rag finally reported a story accurately. Not only is there going to some hideous janky parade snaking its way through town, you four are the architects of this outrage.
Veronica: What’s your problem, Cheryl?
Cheryl: My problem, Veronica, is that the Fourth of July is a day of tragedy for Riverdale. Not celebration. Or have you forgotten what happened to my poor brother Jason?
Betty: Cheryl, Riverdale hasn’t held a parade out of respect for what happened to your brother in like years. It’s time.
Jughead: I mean, you don’t have to come.
Cheryl: Oh, I’ll be there, Insufferable Smurf. Front and center. With a sign of protest in one hand and a horn of compressed air to silence any revelry in the other.