Tim: If I can't whip these boys into shape. I...
Jill: What? What?
Tim: I will give you anything you want.
Jill: Anything?
Tim: Anything. I know what you want. [adjusts belt]
Jill: No, no, no, Tim. That would be the consolation prize.

Jill: I was thinking more along the line of season tickets to the opera.
Tim: [screams] That's a Greek word, isn't it? "Death by music."
Jill: You said anything.
Tim: If that's what you want, fine. But if I want to see a screaming fat lady with horns, I'll go to your mom's house. [laughs]

Tim: Mark? What are you doing under there, sweetheart?
Mark: Smelling the inside of the trash can.
Tim: Why are you doing that?
Mark: Brad said he'd give me a quarter if I did.
Tim: What, is Brad, like, the garbage fairy now? Why don't you go inside and wash up?

Wilson: How goes it, good neighbor?
Tim: Hiya, Wilson. What are you making over there?
Wilson: Building a porcupine trap.
Tim: Really? I don't think there's a whole lot of porcupine in the Detroit area, are there?
Wilson: Ah, but if you build it, they will come.

Tim: Hey, Brad, can I have a moment with you?
Brad: What?
Tim: Your little brother was underneath that garbage can, smelling it. Where do you get these ideas?
Brad: They just come to me.

Tim: Now. I love you boys, but you are bad news in the table manners department. So we're gonna have a crash course.
Brad: Why?
Tim: Why? Because of what happened in the restaurant last night. That's why.
Brad: I told you, it was that stupid clown's fault. You ought to go back and punch him out, Dad.
Tim: Hey! Never hit anybody with makeup - that's the rule.

Tim: Bottom line here, we are gonna have a civilized meal. And I set this table nicely. Put those back. A civilized meal means, Brad, no hitting, pinching, kicking. All that jazz at the table you don't think I see. I see it. Don't do it.
Randy, none of these gross-out stories. The boogers, the scab stuff. Scabs that talk to boogers...
Randy: Dad, can we talk about food?
Tim: Hey. Hey, food. Perfect. Let's talk food.
Randy: Okay. Well, today in the cafeteria. We made Bobby Devers laugh so hard he shot peas out his nose.
Brad: No way.
Randy: It was excellent.
Brad: Yeah, but did it have snot on it?

Tim: Now we've got to hustle up. We've got to hustle up. Just the ba... Take the knife out of your mouth, please. Just the basics, quick. Tonight's dinner. Do not eat with your hands.
Randy: Well, what if we're having chicken?
Tim: Well, for... Chicken outdoors - use your hands. Chicken indoors - knife and fork.
Brad: What about live chicken?
Tim: A live chicken? Brad, who the hell do you hang out with?

Tim: [cat yowls] Wilson?
Wilson: Hiya, Tim.
Tim: Looks like you caught your first porcupine.
Wilson: No, just Mrs. Foley's cat. [cat yowls] Easy, Fluffy. I'm trying to calm him down a little bit before I set him loose.
Tim: He's not hurt, is he?
Wilson: No, no, no, no, Tim. This is a humane trap. [cat growls] Course, that's my opinion, not Fluffy's.

Tim: When laying down that hardwood floor, you could use a hammer and nails. But why would you? That'd take forever. I think what we need here is...
Audience: More power.
Tim: I was thinking right along those lines myself. Now, look what Al brought us out here. The Binford 3-11 series B power nail driver. Thank you, Al.
Al: You're welcome, Tim.
Tim: That's etiquette. Always thank your coworker. Try to say something nice. Al, good-looking slacks. [chuckles] Whoo. That bad boy's raw power. [grunts] The kind of power you need to attach a phone book to a cinder-block wall.
Al: Uh, Tim, you might want to remind our viewers that the Binford 3-11 has that new safety lock.
Tim: I'm sure it does, Al.
Al: Well, it's been completely redesigned.
Tim: Al, I grew up with these things. Heck, that is a little different to what I'm used to seeing, isn't it? Well, all safeties are basically a solenoid. Very impossible to shoot it when you don't want to shoot it. [gun goes off] Ow! Hey. [high-pitched] Tell you what. We'll go to a break right now. [o.s.] Get me out of this.
Al: [o.s.] Boy, that's gotta hurt.
Tim: [o.s.] Yeah, Al, it does. Feels kinda like that. [gun fires]
Al: [o.s.] Argh!