Agent Garfield: Mrs. Barone, you seem like an intelligent woman.
Marie: Thank you. Have a cookie.
Agent Garfield: Do you really think that a mother interfering to the extent that you have could possibly help a man get a job with the FBI? There's something else going on.
Marie: He was supposed to retire! He's a year away from not being a police officer. Which means I could stop worrying about him every second of the day. I want him to be safe. Now he wants to go from one dangerous job to another? How long do I have to walk around with a knot in my stomach? Forever? I can't do it anymore. It's too much! But he wants this job. It'll make him happy. And he should be happy. So, yes, he should have this job. Please, give him this job.
Agent Garfield: I can't do that.
Marie: No. No, don't blame him, you can punish me! Put one of those tracking things on my legs so I can't get out of the house. And if you met my husband, you'd know that's punishment enough.

Robert: Now I gotta go through my interview in an unlucky suit.
Marie: Just because you're not wearing your lucky suit doesn't mean that whatever you do wear will be unlucky.
Robert: Look at my life. All my other clothes are unlucky.

Agent Garfield: Is this a joke?
Robert: Excuse me?
Agent Garfield: "Dear FBI Agent Garfield. I'm writing to ask for your understanding. You have an interview this morning with my son, Robert Barone. I think you will find Robert to be an exceptional candidate for the job. He is hard-working, brave, and handsome." [Garfield looks up in disbelief] "But I feel I have hurt his chances somewhat. You see, he has a lucky suit. And while I was ironing this morning, I ruined it. He was very upset, so he might be a little distracted. Please don't hold this against him. If anything, blame me. I don't mind, I'm used to it. Of course, it's also my other son Raymond Barone's fault. He's a famous sportswriter. Perhaps you've heard of him. But mostly, I'm to blame. I only wanted Robert to look his best. Thank you for understanding. Sincerely, Marie Barone." [Robert is stunned into silence] "P.S."
Robert: Oh, God.
Agent Garfield: "Please ask Robert to forgive me. I tried, but it'll mean more coming from you." Please forgive your mother.

Marie: I had the television on and a commercial for some sports program came on, and it said that Raymond was gonna be on it.
Robert: Oh my God!
Marie: But he never told me. And I started to wonder why I have to hear about it on TV instead of him telling me.
Robert: So you burned my lucky suit?!
Marie: I was distracted. Did he tell you anything about being on a sports program?
Robert: Who cares?!
Marie: Don't yell at me. The person we should be upset with is Raymond.

Debra: Frank, Robert's meeting didn't go very well.
Frank: What meeting?
Ray: With the FBI, Dad. Pay attention.
Robert: Hey, I'll take his cluelessness over her sabotage any day of the week.
Marie: My what?
Robert: You heard me. Your sabotage. You're a saboteur! Saboteur!

Marie: I don't understand. I was just trying to help you.
Robert: Oh, help, help. You're trying to help me? Like the guy who shaves your ankles before the electric chair? Is that the kind of help?! Thanks for the help! What do I owe you?!
Marie: All right. You're upset because you feel your interview didn't go as well as it could, and I'm sorry, too. But that doesn't give you the right to lash out at me.
Robert: Listen to me, woman! Now, if this was the only time that you ever screwed me up, I just would have gone home and said, "Oh, that Mom." But this is just the latest in your psychotic series of attempts to keep me down!

Marie: Robbie, please, why would I want to keep you from getting that job?
Robert: So you could keep your family the way you like it with you sitting on top, Queen Marie.
Marie: This is crazy talk.
Robert: Oh, yeah? Everyone else isn't below you? Look, here's little Prince Raymond, heir to the throne.
Ray: What throne?
Robert: Shut up!
Ray: You say "Shut up" to the Prince?
Robert: And then you have your court jester, with his bald head and weighty behind! And then there's me the peasant, the serf. And God forbid I should move up just a little, because it might upset your perfect order!

Agent Garfield: Mrs. Barone, I'm beginning to think you really don't want your son to have this job.
Marie: Did Robbie tell you to say that to me? Or Frank? Did my husband call you?
Agent Garfield: No, I'm just looking at the evidence.
Marie: What evidence?
Agent Garfield: Well, you did ruin his lucky suit.
Marie: Well, that was an accident.
Agent Garfield: Or part of a pattern of behavior.
Marie: Yes. Love, love, love.

Agent Garfield: Mrs. Barone, the reason your son isn't getting this job has nothing to do with you. He's a fine officer, it's just that there are better qualified candidates for the position.
Marie: Better qualified than my Robbie?
Agent Garfield: Yes.
Marie: All right, let me tell you something. My Robbie's too good for you. That's right. He's too good for this place, and maybe you could use a lucky suit, because that's a horrible color on you. And your wife does look like your mother!
[After Marie storms out of Garfield's office and heads for the stairwell, she turns back to the receptionist]
Marie: Do you validate parking?

Robert: Oh, it was going okay, and then Agent Garfield read me a letter about crazy Robert and his lucky suit.
Debra: What?
Marie: I never said "crazy."
Ray: Ma, what did you do?
Robert: She faxed the FBI a letter about how she ruined my lucky suit.
Marie: I wasn't sure it went through. It was the first time I ever used a fax machine.
Debra: Marie, why don't you go into the kitchen? Robert, how about you just stay here and maybe blink a few times?
Robert: Why would you do it? Why would you send a letter? The guy looked at me like I was a pathetic, candy-ass mama's boy.
Marie: Well, then he seems awfully critical.
Robert: He's the FBI, Ma! I wasn't applying for a job at the Gap!