Debra: Where did he get you?
Robert: In my adductor magnus.
Frank: Your what?
Robert: It's my upper thigh area.
Ray: Sounds like he got you in the ass. [chuckles] I'm not- I'm not laughing. It's horrible, it's horrible. I'm not laughing.
Robert: It's upper thigh.
Marie: Oh, I hate all this police business. I always knew I'd get this call.
Ray: Really? The "your son has been gored in the ass by a bull" call?
Robert: It's upper thigh!

Frank: What happened?
Robert: Well, I yelled, "Hey, hey, bull!" I don't know. I guess I distracted him because he stopped cold. And then he turned. And then he started coming for me.
Debra: Oh, no!
Robert: Oh, yeah. It was like that Wall Street ad.
Frank: Or that malt liquor commercial.
Robert: Yeah. So he's coming towards me, and...
Marie: Did you get away?
Robert: [long silence] Where are we, Ma?

Robert: I'm telling you, the ground, it shook.
Frank: Why didn't you run?
Robert: I did run, Dad. I don't know if you've ever been in this situation before, but the first thing that comes to mind is run! So I'm running and running, and he's getting closer and closer, and then his horn gets me and my feet are off the ground, like I'm flying. Incredibly painful flying. Then he tosses me aside like a sock, and I'm on the pavement, and he gives me a couple of snorts and lumbers up the ramp and into his trailer.
Debra: Unbelievable! You were gored!
Frank: By a freakin' bull! Holy crap!