Marie: Your birthday gift to me finally came this morning. Did you know you sent me a box of pears?
Ray: Yeah. Yeah.
Marie: From a place called Fruit-of-the-Month?
Ray: That's right. How are they?
Marie: Oh, they're very nice pears. But there are so many of them. There are over a dozen pears. What am I supposed to do with all those pears?
Ray: I think you're supposed to eat them, Ma.
Marie: Myself?
Ray: You and Dad and Robert.
Marie: How many pears can Robert eat? Look, I appreciate the thought, Raymond, but please, don't ever send us any more fruit again. Thanks.

Ray: It's a different fruit every month.
Marie: Every month?
Ray: Yes. Yes. That's why they call it Fruit-of-the-Month Club.
Marie: It's a club? Oh, my God! What do I do with all this fruit?
Ray: Well, most people like it, Ma! You share it. Share it with all your friends.
Marie: Which friends?
Ray: I don't know. Lee and Stan.
Marie: Lee and Stan buy their own fruit.
Ray: Well, give it to-
Marie: Oh, why did you do this to me?
Ray: My God!
Marie: I can't talk. There's too much fruit in the house!

Robert: When did he get this?
Marie: Oh, that's an award your brother got for his sports column.
Robert: Never ends for Raymond.
Marie: Oh, poor Robbie.
Robert: Everybody loves Raymond. I go to work, people shoot at me. Ray goes to work, people do the wave. Then he sits down, has a hot dog, doodles on a piece of paper and they give him a trophy.

Marie: Do you know that the fruit keeps coming month after month? He's got us in some kind of a cult.
Ray: It's not a cult, Ma. It's a club.
Frank: What do you mean, month after month? For how long?
Ray: A year.
Frank: My God, are you out of your mind?
Ray: Sorry. I'm so sorry, Dad.
Frank: What do you think we are? Invalids? We can't go out and get our own fruit?
Marie: I tried to tell him.
Ray: All right, I'm canceling the fruit club!
Marie: Oh, good. Thank you, Raymond. Thank you. And don't do that again.
Frank: Like we don't have enough problems!

Ray: Okay, I lied. I lied to everybody. I was trying to make everybody happy.
Robert: Nice job.
Ray: I should have known better. Why did- Especially with my parents, the only people who treat a box of fruit like it's plutonium. I chickened out. I made a mistake. I chickened out. All right, look. The truth is Debra wanted us to have a day to ourselves. And me, too. Me, too. But Debra's the one. She's got it- No, she's got it very hard around here, though she's never said that to me. I've noticed it. Like Dad. I know you try to be funny, but... Like with the twins. Maybe you shouldn't say: "I think little Matthew has homosexual tendencies." And, Ma, you can't be so critical. And if you're going to be critical, could you please call before you come so we could be ready for it? Both of you. Could you both call? We have to prepare. There's bills and receipts we hide, and then we chant a little. Now listen, we love you both, but this is our house and Debra's my wife. And if you can't accept what I'm telling you then you can't come over here anymore. Unless you call first. That's it. I think I did it all, right?
Debra: What? This has nothing to do with me.
Ray: Oh, yeah, Robert, could you try not to eat near the kids?

Debra: Uh, Ray.
Ray: What?
Debra: Why do the boys' heads smell like Old Spice?
Ray: What?
Debra: Your father was here, sucking the youth out of their heads again, huh? And your brother was here, too. Just found this Fruit Loop on Matthew's chin. Are you gonna tell me what happened here tonight, Ray, or do I have to call your parents?

Frank: [enters] Hey!
Marie: Oh, Frank, Robbie! You scared me!
Frank: You don't leave a note, you just leave. We're looking all over for you.
Marie: Where'd you look?
Robert: We thought we'd start here.

Marie: You want to see something? A $120 receipt from Victoria's Secret.
Frank: Holy crap! What the hell's a bustier?

Marie: [enters] You're home!
Ray: Hi, Mom.
Marie: Hi. I saw your car pull up before. You didn't call. [slaps Ray] Hi, Debra. I brought you some baking soda for your fridge. I smelled something questionable.
Ray: From across the street?
Marie: [laughs] No, when I was here yesterday. [opens fridge] Ooh, it's worse.
Debra: Come on.
Ray: Okay. All right. Ma, listen, we can buy our own baking soda.
Marie: I know, sweetie. But you don't. [looking at Debra's top] What have we here? I'll get you some club soda for that, too.
Ray: No, Ma, we have club soda.
Marie: No. Your father finished it. I'll see you later. [exits]
Ray: Oh, it comes from love.

Debra: But do they have to bring your brother over?
Ray: My brother lives with them. He doesn't like staying alone.
Debra: He's 40, Ray.
Ray: Come on. He loves the kids.
Debra: It's just like... The way Robert eats, you know? The way he has to touch every bite to his chin before he puts it in his mouth. That's weird.
Ray: What? That's an idiosyncrasy. It's like when he's counting and he gets to 12, he has to take his shoes off. Everybody has those.
Debra: How did he ever become a police sergeant?
Ray: Because he's a good cop. And they didn't make him count. Or eat.