Debra: We can never have sex again.
Ray: What?
Debra: Look at your father, lying in there hurt, and all because we... And now, whenever... I'm gonna think of him, workin' on those stairs, and then all of a sudden, his little bald head dropping out of sight.
Ray: Well, here's something you might try. Think of me when we're having sex.
Debra: This is awful, Ray. We lied to him, and now he has a broken rib. We broke his rib! We may as well have rolled off that bed and onto him.
Ray: Hey, are you trying to put images in my head? 'Cause we may never have sex again!