Debra: You know what? We have nothing to say to each other. All we do is talk about the kids, or tell stories we've heard over and over and over.
Ray: What stories?
Debra: Robert swallowing that damn bee. I've heard that stupid story a million times, every time you see honey or a bee or a person with a puffy face.
Ray: Yeah, that's a million.
Debra: Or how about the time your dad put a possum in your tent during a camping trip and you literally jumped out of your skin?
Ray: What? It was scary.
Debra: Yeah, that's not literally. You literally jump out of your skin, you're dead. Body out of skin, dead.
Ray: How about you? You're always telling me about the story where you wore purple shoes and your feet sweated, and they turned purple. "It was like I was making wine." That's not funny.
Debra: I know. See? We have nothing to talk about and you don't even care.