Ray: Debra and I didn't fall down the stairs.
Frank: What?
Ray: We actually hurt ourselves in the, you know, bedroom.
Frank: A bedroom race?
Ray: No. No, there are no races, Dad.
Frank: But they're a tradition.
Ray: We... We fell off the bed, both of us. Hmm? Dad. We fell off the bed when we were having sex. That's how we got hurt.
Frank: Then this is about your testicle.
Ray: What? No. Dad, no, it's not. I lied to you. I told you the stairs were bad so you wouldn't know what Debra and I were doing, and you wouldn't have broken your rib if it wasn't for me, and I'm buying you a satellite dish, all right?
Frank: Oh. Now, that's a good story. Why didn't you just tell me that story?
Ray: Because it's like a sex story. And I don't feel comfortable, you know, telling you that kind of stuff. It's...
Frank: But we're pals.
Ray: Okay. We're pals.