Two tabloid reporters checking out a report of the Archangel Michael living with an old woman find that it's true. But that's not the only surprise.

Michael: You gotta learn to laugh, it's the way to true love.
Michael: Remember what John and Paul said.
Frank Quinlan: The apostles?
Michael: No, the Beatles. All you need is love.
Michael: I'm not that kind of angel.
Michael: No injuries, 6360 battles.
Michael: You know, I invented marriage
Pansy Milbank: Oh really?
Michael: Yep. All these people were milling around, trying to get together, everything was in chaos so I told 'em, "Have a ceremony".
Huey Driscoll: Can I just pull on your wings to see how they're attached?
Michael: Why don't you pull on your pecker to see how it's attached?
Pansy Milbank: Hey. Language.
Frank Quinlan: An angel that says "pecker."
Pansy Milbank: Language.
Michael: And you just gotta remember, Sparky - no matter what they tell you - you can *never* have too much sugar.
Michael: Hey, what's the opposite of white?
Frank Quinlan: Black.
Michael: No. Yolk.
Michael: Then what happened was, he came as a hundred mouths, open and stinking with decay... and he tore at my flesh from every angle of Heaven. I grabbed Beelzebub's blue tongue in my fist...
Old Geezer #1: Wait, who is Beelzebub?
Michael: Beelzebub is Satan!
Michael: Whatever they say, you can never have too much of earth.
Michael: Money Changers!
Michael: Battle!
Michael: The miles will fly and your children won't cry, if you play car bingo.
Frank Quinlan: Bring him back.
Michael: That's not my area.
Frank Quinlan: Would someone please tell me what his area is? Don't give me that "that's not my area" stuff. BRING HIM BACK.
[repeated line, while cooking breakfast]
Pansy Milbank: Over easy!
Huey Driscoll: My wife has lips like a blowfish.
Dorothy Winters: It's cookies, he smells like cookies, and the smell gets stronger when he's in heat.