Frankie: Okay, here we go. So, where to?
Rita Glossner: Just drive. I'll tell you which way to go. [Frankie picks up Rita's brown bag] Hey! Trust me. You want to be real careful with that.
Frankie: Oh. Uh, w-what... what's in there?
Rita Glossner: None of your damn business. Cheez-It?
Frankie: Oh. [grabs a handful]
Rita Glossner: I said one. [Frankie puts the rest back]

Frankie: Rita! What a surprise. Just so you know, it wasn't me who called in that noise complaint last week. Who doesn't love AC/DC at 2:00 a.m.?
Rita Glossner: I need you to drive me someplace.
Frankie: Oh. [coughs] I would love to, but I'm actually really sick.
Rita Glossner: You didn't sound sick a second ago.
Frankie: Okay, I'm not sick, but I have to get to work.
Rita Glossner: No, you don't. Just sleep with your boss. Then you can come and go as you please. I'm at work right now. So, let's go. Ticktock, princess. Come on. I don't got all day.
Frankie: Can't one of your boys take you?
Rita Glossner: They're all lazy. I thought they'd grow up and chip in, but no. I'm the only one out there stripping copper out of abandoned houses. I told them, cereal don't grow on trees.
Frankie: Look, my boss is a real jerk if I'm late, so...
Rita Glossner: You know, I'm still emotionally and somewhat physically scarred from when you attacked me last Halloween. Now, I didn't press charges, but I could. You know why I didn't? 'Cause I'm a good neighbor. I assume you'd want to "recip-i-cate" my good intentions. Or you can just give me the keys to your car.

Rita Glossner: Beautiful day for a drive. Relaxing, ain't it?
Frankie: Uh-huh. You know, this seems like it's turning into a whole thing, and I really should get back for dinner and my life and to the people who know where I am.
Rita Glossner: There's nothing like the open road. I just feel so trapped in that fishbowl of a neighborhood, everybody always judging you. You know what neighbor I really don't like? That Nancy Donahue.
Frankie: Oh. I don't know. She's nice. What don't you like about her?
Rita Glossner: Well, she thinks she's all that, that her house is all that, that her kids are all that. Like them girls, and that boy at that fancy college, and that weird one who reads.
Frankie: Uh, that one's mine.
Rita Glossner: And she thinks she's better than everybody else 'cause her teenagers are potty-trained. That's what I like about me and you. We don't care about our yards.
Frankie: Well, I... I care a little. But... But... But I hear you. I mean, it's like, people who make you jam. They don't want you to have jam. They want to show you they made jam.
Rita Glossner: I know. It's like, what dark hole are you fillin' in your life that you need to foist jam on your neighbors? [both laugh]
Frankie: Exactly.