Lucille: So the family got a little stimmy. Don't make a federal case out of it.

Narrator: [gravelly] It was May- [clears throat] It was May 4th, and in the bayside town of Newport Beach, the annual celebration known as Cinco de Cuatro was underway. The holiday started as a particularly vicious response by a young Lucille Bluth to the Mexican holiday...
[flashback:]
Young Lucille: This still isn't made?
Narrator: ...of Cinco de Mayo.
Young George Sr.: No, no, it's not.
Young Lucille: Rosa, why is this still a mess?
Young George Sr.: She said it's Cinco de Mayo. She's taking the day off.
Young Lucille: She said that?
Young George Sr.: Yeah.
Young Lucille: She called it Cinco de Mayo?
Young George Sr.: She did, yeah.
Young Lucille: Oh, why can't they just call it May 5th? This is what I was talking about. It's all part of the Mexican war on May 5th.
Young George Sr.: War on May 5th, I know, yeah.
Young Lucille: It is.
Narrator: But even a skeptical George Sr. soon found himself feeling similarly embattled.
Young George Sr.: Where the [bleep] are my socks?

[flashback:]
Young Lucille: We should start our own holiday.
Narrator: You see, the Hispanics of Newport liked Cinco a lot, but high up on Coast Highway, Lucille Bluth did not.
Young George Sr.: Doesn't look like they'll be done any time soon.
Narrator: And then Lucille had a horrible thought, a thought that was thoughtless and better to not. "What if," she thought with a sneering grin...
Young Lucille: Next year, what if the party didn't even begin?