Woody: You two look like you've been having a heck of a time. What did you do?
Cliff: It'd be better to ask what we didn't do.
Mr. Clavin: Yeah.
Norm: How about if we just withdrew the question.
Cliff: Well, we caught the first quarter of the Celtics game, went down to the petting zoo. It was night, but we peeked over the fence. Then we went fishing in the Charles and Dad took me to the all-night barber's to get a haircut.
Mr. Clavin: Yeah, next time he's gonna get them all cut. Then later over a hot dog, we had a little father-and-son talk about the birds and bees. Yeah, well, I already knew about that stuff.
Cliff: There was one thing that was a little bit shocking. [both laugh]

Cliff: Hey, you know, this is a, uh, nice place, Carla.
Norm: Yeah.
Cliff: Oh, yeah, hey, look. Great fireplace here, Normie.
Norm: Yeah. Super living room.
Cliff: Hey, you know, with a, uh, little fresh paint and some new wallpaper you'll have some, uh fresh paint and new wallpaper.

Cliff: You know that Drake guy? He's probably the kind of bloke that has his knuckle hair removed with electrolysis. Yeah, he's probably got one of those electronic zappers that he uses to forestall his receding hairline. And I bet ya, I bet ya a dime to a donut, that he has his loofer and he rubs himself raw to get rid of his cellulite. Well, it was in last month's Soldier of Fortune, okay?

Cliff: You know, it's quite remarkable. To float something as heavy as a wedge of lime, beer must have quite a high buoyancy factor.
Carla: So do your loafers.
Pete: Do you think an olive could float in beer?
Cliff: Yeah. Only one way to find out, my friend.
Norm: Well, I guess it doesn't. But, you know, I think maybe an orange rind, being of the citrus family and a close cousin of the lime, just might float.
Cliff: Ah! Your hypothesis has been proven correct, Dr. Peterson.
Norm: Thank you very much, Nurse Clavin.
Woody: I always wondered if a lit match would float in beer.
Norm: You always wondered that, huh, Wood?
Cliff: All right, Woodrow. Ooh.
Woody: Not only does it float, it smells like heaven.
Carla: I got one. How about his car keys?
Norm: Oh, good.
Woody: Here he comes. [Woody and Carla fish the car keys, match and assorted fruits out of Frasier's beer]
Frasier: Ahh. Now I've room enough for you, my friend. Boy, that lime really adds something.

Carla: I bet the only reason he married you was because he knocked you up.
Gloria LeBec: How do you know that?
Carla: Babe's intuition.
Gloria LeBec: Yeah? Maybe that's the same reason he married you.
Carla: But with me, it wasn't a cheap thrill. It was a very tender moment in the back of a Datsun hatchback.
Gloria LeBec: Toyota Corolla, front seat.
Cliff: All right, ladies, stop right now, huh? All this talk about conceiving your children in these cars... Just makes me sick. Doesn't anybody buy American anymore?

Cliff: Quite a night, huh, Norm?
Norm: Yep.
Cliff: Yeah. I can't believe old Sammy wants to be a dad.
Norm: Yep.
Cliff: He's got to be real careful about choosing a mother. A lot of things to consider. Like, for example, how the genes match up. Yeah. Wish my parents had given that a little bit more thought. Yeah. Maybe I'd be able to jump a little higher, run a little faster. You know, there's a jumping gene in my ma. It's called the "J" gene. It's... It's recessive. You know, so, if my ma had gotten matched up with a guy with a dominant jumping gene.. You know, let's see. Like, uh, Carl Lewis. I'm telling you, Norm, it could have been a whole different playground for little Cliffie Lewis.
Norm: Cliffie, I hate to interrupt, but, uh, we're here.
Cliff: Normie, how come you always drop me off at least six blocks away from my house?
Norm: Well, this time it's a mile. Get out.

Cliff: Yeah, well, I'd better, uh, make some phone calls. I've got a whole neighborhood full of brats. If I bring 'em, they'll, uh, probably tell me where my car is.

Norm: So, Tiny, huh? [chuckles] That's a pretty funny nickname given, you know, how big you are.
Tiny: Why? You making fun of my name? You think I got a joke name? Do you think I'm some kind of joke?
Norm: Tell Vera I loved her.
Cliff: Hey, wait, ho! Excuse me here. Tiny there, my main man. Hey, uh, step into my office. I'll take care of this, Normie. You see, Tiny, uh, you know, calling you "tiny," a guy of your, you know, girth, uh, is what we in the comedy profession call a juxtaposition. Right?
Tiny: Yeah.
Cliff: Juxtaposition. See, it's, uh, calling a calling a a bald guy "Curly." Fat guy "Slim." Tall guy "Shorty."
Tiny: I like that. You're smart.
Cliff: Why, thank you.
Tiny: No, that's your new nickname. Get it? I made a joke.
Cliff: And a fine joke it is, too, sir.

Carla: Hey, Norm, you left these in the car.
Alan: Now, why did the stripper throw 'em at you, Norm?
Norm: Women happen to be attracted to me, Alan. Like moths to a flame. Like honey bees to a flower.
Cliff: Like flies to a road apple.

Cliff: Hey, Woody. Lookit, later on, I'm going out scouting for chickereenios. You wanna come?
Woody: Well, sure. What is that, some kind of cereal?
Sam: I'm not sure, but I think he means girls.
Cliff: Yeah, that's right. Come on, Wood. Look, I got this great pickup line. See, we pull up next to this cute-looking babe, right? I say, "Hey, my friend likes you."
Norm: Yeah, and if that doesn't work, Cliff throws an egg at her. It's great.