Narrator: Gob rushed to shore to spare his brother from what he was certain were his mother's machinations.
Michael: What are you doing?
Lucille: [o.s.] Hey. Open this door.
Gob: You've been set up.
Lucille: [o.s.] Michael!
Gob: There's no way you were trying to hurt me. You don't hate me. Mom hates me. You kind of like me.
Michael: Yeah. I kind of like you.
Gob: Yeah.