Debra: Okay you're not going near my son.
Ray: Come on! This is nothing! Hey, you know what my father used to do to me when I was a kid? I remember one time, I was getting ready for the senior prom, and I was combing my hair in the hallway mirror, and he pushes past me and goes, "Bad haircut. I can still see your face."
Debra: How did that make you feel?
Ray: What? Nothing. I knew that he was just trying to be funny. All right, all right. I felt bad for a second, but then I forgot about it.
Debra: Until now?
Ray: Listen, this wasn't like that. All I really did was say a little joke.
Debra: Like your dad. You know, you've told me that haircut story before.
Ray: It was just a little joke. I didn't mean it.
Debra: I know you didn't.
Ray: I'll talk to him. I'm gonna need lots of gum.

Marie: Oh. When we get home, I'll get you something for your tum-tum.
Robert: That's okay, Ma. I'm fine now. Stop rubbing my tummy!
Frank: Hey, remember the time you had that clam roll at Howard Johnson's?
Robert: All right, Dad.
Frank: And you washed it down with a strawberry milk shake?
Robert: Yeah, I remember, Dad. Please stop.
Frank: I had a sardine sandwich with onions and mayonnaise, and it was warm, I recall.
Robert: Why do this?
Frank: I find your discomfort amusing.
Ray: All right, plenty of snacks left over. Who wants some cheese sticks and guava nectar?
Robert: I'll be outside.

Frank: Why didn't you bring some cushions or something? This bench is killing me.
Marie: It's crushing his brain.
Frank: Sure. These seats don't bother you.
Ray: Hey, if you two can't get along, I'm gonna separate you.
Marie: You mean legally?