Ray: How are you right? How are you right?! It's my house and you wanted to paint it yellow! How is that right?
Frank: Because yellow covers better! It won't fade as fast! And you got white houses on either side of you! It makes your house pop a little! And it goes with your trim and the frigging little daisies you got!
Ray: Well, why didn't you just say that?
Frank: I shouldn't have to say it!
Ray: What?
Frank: Because if I say it's yellow, that should be good enough for you! I shouldn't have to explain everything! I'm right!
Ray: Okay, you're right, but it's not always about being right.
Frank: Yes, it is! Being right is all that matters. Everything else is crap! "Oh, you have to consider people's feelings." "Oh, what if they don't like you?" They should like me because I did the job right!

Marie: Well, you two always talk about having your house painted so, I put your father on the job.
Debra: But, Marie, we were going to hire professionals.
Marie: Oh, but Frank is very good. He did a nice job on our house. And he likes the fumes.
Debra: Well, yes, he did do a nice job on your house and I would hate to kill anyone's buzz, but...
Ray: Yeah, but we were kind of thinking that we would be the ones to make that decision, 'cause it is kind of our house.
Marie: Yes, but we're the ones who have to look at it.
Ray: All right, I'm going to use this french toast to lure him off the ladder.
Marie: Okay, okay, okay. Just let your father do this. I need him out of my house. Ever since he's retired, he's around all the time.
Debra: Yeah, but that's what happens when you retire.
Marie: I know, but I never thought he'd live this long.

Debra: Something hit the wall.
Ray: [opens curtains; screams]
Frank: Jeez, you scared the crap out of me!
Ray: What the- What the hell are you doing?!
Frank: I'm painting your house. What's it look like?
Ray: Looks like we have the world's ugliest shutters.

Ray: Come on, Ma, look. That's not our problem, all right? You've had 40 years to poison him.
Marie: Okay. Fine. Raymond, please I need space. I need a little time to myself. I don't want him around when I'm trying to do things.
Ray: Do what things?
Marie: When I'm trying to improve myself. This doesn't just happen. I practice my languages, I have my opera, and I'm starting yoga.
Debra: [laughs] You-
Marie: What? Is that so strange?
Ray: Yes.

Ray: Look, Ma, I think you're overreacting, okay? This wasn't that big of deal!
Marie: It was a big enough deal for him to make up a story to me about hurting his back. You're his son. How do you think that made him feel?
Robert: I hope you're happy, Raymond.
Ray: Oh, shut up! And why should I worry about his feelings? He doesn't care about anybody else's.
Marie: You don't think he cares about you? He's your father. He just isn't good at...
Ray: Living among humans.
Marie: You know, I think you're the only one who thinks you're funny.
Robert: Amen to that.

Marie: Raymond, go talk to your father.
Ray: No, no!
Debra: You know, you should.
Ray: Oh, excuse me. Who's speaking? Is that white Debra or yellow Debra?
Debra: You know, you really should. I know your father can be a real jerk sometimes.
Marie: Right, no one is arguing that. He's a bully, he's obstinate and he doesn't bathe every day. But I know that man and I know he needs one thing. He needs to be needed. Do with that what you will. [exits]
Robert: He's your father.

Ray: Hey, what do you got? They're finally making Popsicles in your size?
Robert: Would you stop? I can't take the old man anymore. He's driving me nuts. Ordering me around like a monkey. Calling me every name in the book: Nancy, powder puff, princess, monkey.
Ray: So? I'm getting dopey, idiot, moron. At least yours make sense.
Robert: Well, best of luck.
Ray: Oh, no. No, no, no! Come on, you're not leaving me here with him! You knew what it was going to be like working with Dad.
Robert: I had him too, Raymond. He was up on the ladder. Would have looked like an accident.

Debra: Listen. Frank, we were going to hire painters to do that.
Frank: So, you can thank me later. I like fine chocolates.
Ray: Dad, please, get down from there, okay? We're- We're trying to sleep here.
Frank: Oh, sure, yeah. I got you. A little Saturday morning wake me up? Just close the window. I won't listen.
[Ray closes the window and the curtains]
Ray: You know, I'm not worried about the listening. It's the heckling.

Frank: Hey! What's with all this standing around?! You two working for the government?!
Ray: No!
Frank: Well, I hate to break up this meeting of the Camp Fire Girls, but let's get to work! Chop! Chop!
Robert: We're working, Dad.
Frank: Oh, yeah? Are you finished caulking, Lady Chatterley?
Ray: That is a good one.
Frank: Why aren't you done caulking?!
Robert: There's a wasps' nest by the down spout.
Frank: So, you take a stick and knock it down.
Robert: They're wasps. They don't like that.
Frank: Oh, well here's what you do. If they come at you, you pull your skirt over your head and run.

Ray: Hey, Dad. He doesn't have to caulk by the down spout. It's not that important.
Frank: It's important if I say it's important.
Ray: Okay, but this is my house.
Frank: And this is my job! People see me working out here. They're going to know that Frank Barone did this job, so it's going to get done right! [to Robert] Why are you still here?
Robert: I- I don't think-
Frank: Hey, hey, it's just a couple of bugs. Knock it down with something. A stick, a broom, your pinky! I don't care! Get up there and knock out that nest!
Robert: All right!
Frank: And what about you? Are you going to scrape that paint or do a dance?
Ray: I'm scraping.