Carla: You know, Coach, every night you walk out of here and forget your keys. Have you got them this time?
Coach: It's OK, Carla. I got it all figured out. I left them in the car.
Carla: Aren't you afraid somebody's gonna steal it?
Coach: I locked the doors.
Carla: How are you going to get in without your keys?
Coach: I made a duplicate set.
Carla: Well, where are they, Coach?
Coach: Holy mackerel! Sam. [Sam hands him his keys] Carla, we've really got to make a scramble. Looks like rain. Come on. I left the windows open.

Sam: I don't know. Maybe me and Diane being together just doesn't make any sense.
Coach: Uh, love, Sam. Who can explain it? Fools have tried.
Sam: Yeah, you're right, Coach.
Coach: I've got this theory...

Norm: Arlene Horsley. Yeah, she's a typist at that firm I got fired from. I gave her a slice of my pizza one day during a coffee break, and things kind of took off from there. Anyway, we caught a little movie this afternoon.
Coach: What was playing?
Norm: I finally got around to seeing Gandhi, Coach.
Cliff: Whoa. Gandhi. A fine piece of cinematic art there.
Norm: Well, I'm out of here.
Carla: Where are you going?
Norm: I gotta get back before Arlene starts to me.
Carla: Where is she?
Norm: She's watching Gandhi. I'm just out for popcorn. I'll see you in an hour when I go out for jujubes.

Diane: Even you, Carla, cannot ruin our mood. Sam and I had a wonderful afternoon gallery haunting. We saw the work of New England's finest artists.
Norm: What'd you lose a bet, huh, Sam?
Diane: As a matter of fact, Mr. Malone is on his way to developing an appreciation of non-representational art.
Sam: That's right.
Carla: Name any piece of art you saw today.
Sam: Well, gee, there were so many, uh...
Carla: Name any piece of art in the world.
Cliff: [to Norm] A buck says he gets this one.
Norm: You're on.
Sam: Michelangelo's "Two Muscular Guys Touching Fingers".
Cliff: Pay up.
Carla: Fooled me.

Cliff: Hey, Diane, I wouldn't try too hard to domesticate the guy. You're going against eons of biology on this one.
Diane: What are you talking about?
Cliff: Well, you know, early cavemen went out and hunted for the food that graced their simple table. The women stayed in the cave and developed art, culture, what have you. But men, down through the centuries, have always been hunters. You know, doers. Adventurers. Cogito, it is not in man's nature to sit alone and be passive and docile.
Norm: [groans]
Cliff: What's the matter, Norm?
Norm: Oh, nothing, just my shorts are binding up on me.
Cliff: Just, you know, stand up and straighten them out a little bit.
Norm: No, I'll give them five minutes. Sometimes they self-correct.

Dave: See you, gang. Oh, and, moonbeam... [to Diane] Seeing as you'll be split up tomorrow, and you'll probably like to be free, maybe you and I could...
Diane: I'd rather be staked out on an ant hill, naked.
Dave: See, Sam, how they always get the word "naked" in?
Sam: Go on. Go on.

Diane: I'm just saying it would be a wonderful gesture to me if you destroyed the book.
Sam: Are you nuts? It took me years to meet all these people!
Diane: And even longer to alphabetize them.
Sam: All right! I knew you'd bring this around to stupid.
Diane: Oh, any argument with you begins and ends with stupid.
Sam: Listen, you can put up with this book if I can put up with an afternoon of paint splatters.
Diane: Paint splatters? Sam, if brains were money, you'd have to take out a loan for a cup of coffee.
Sam: I got that one! I got that one!
Diane: You're making marvelous progress.

Sam: Just so I don't mistake this for you being deep in thought about how much you love me, you're not talking to me, right?
Diane: I hate you with the white-hot intensity of 1,000 suns.
Sam: [singsong] Somebody's cranky.

Norm: [enters] Afternoon, everybody.
All: Norm!
Coach: How's life, Normie?
Norm: It's not going to win any awards, Coach. Better put a brew in my face, please.
Coach: Right up.

Carla: Hey, Coach, I thought it was your turn to drive today.
Coach: Oh, did I forget to pick you up, Carla? I'm sorry, honey. I'll make it up to you.
Carla: It's OK.
Coach: No. Tomorrow, you forget to pick me up.