Lucille: His name is Dustin Radler, and I haven't hired him, because technically, he's given up the rat race.
George Sr.: Oh, God, the "giving up the rat race" guy? This is the sand hobo? Uh, it's just a question. Are you guys doing something?
Lucille: [inhales]
Gob: Don't say it! Please, I can't I can't hear it.
Lucille: He tickles my fancy.
Gob: Your what? Is the- What part of Mom is the fancy? You do not want to know what I'm picturing, and it's not what you think.
Lucille: Oh, stop. We walk on the beach. We like the feel of the sand on our feet.
Gob: Oh, God, the thought of your feet.
George Sr.: It's fine. I'm glad you have someone to talk to. Well, maybe I'll go check on Buster.
Gob: Wow. Mom really has him fancy-whipped, huh?