Robert: Can I cut you a piece to go, Ray?
Ray: Yeah, just so you know, that's my cake, okay? She actually made it for my birthday.
Robert: Huh, for your birthday. Okay, let's see... "Happy Birthday, Robby." So what is that like a typo?
Ray: Come on, you know she's just trying to make me feel guilty for that high school party I had.
Robert: Raymond, Raymond, Raymond, Raymond. You know, I sort of feel a little sorry for you, cubby, I really do.
Ray: Get outta here! Get outta here.
Robert: Look at you, huh? Your whole life, you've always been Mom's favorite, right? It's always been 75% you, 25% me.
Ray: What do you got? A pie chart?
Robert: No pie. Cake! And it appears the numbers have changed.