Tim: Recognize this? Spiral ratchet screwdriver found under the sink this morning. What was that all about?
Jill: Well, the ice was all stuck together and I needed something to break it apart.
Tim: You pounded ice with this?
Jill: Yeah. It worked great.
Tim: Jill, this is a precision tool. It's not an ice pick.
Jill: Tim, don't be silly. Give me the tape.
Tim: No, no, no, no. No. How would you feel if I attacked your little opera-record collection and used Madame Butterfly for a frisbee?

Tim: Repeat after me: I, Jill...
Jill: I, Jill... [laughs]
Tim: I, Jill, swear on this Binford cordless ratchet wrench...
Jill: ...swear on this blah-blah, blah-blah, blah-blah wrench...
Tim: ...Binford cordless ratchet wrench...
Jill: Binford cordless ratchet wrench...
Tim: ...that I will never touch my husband Tim Taylor's tool bench ever again.
Jill: Ever again. Touched it.
Tim: Jill...
Jill: Touched it. Touched it. Touched it. [laughs]
Tim: Can you feel the anger in this room right now? You have irritated the tool gods. You must now be smeared with the holy grease of disdain.
Jill: Tim, don't you even think about it. Tim. Tim...
Tim: I'm no longer Tim. I'm Zortheus, the Tool Avenger. I am Zortheus.

Randy: Have you seen my sneakers?
Jill: Yes. They're in the trash.
Randy: You can't throw those away.
Jill: Honey, it wasn't my idea. The sneakers begged me. They did. They... [silly voice] Please, Mrs. Taylor, let us go. We're old. We're tired. We smell.
Randy: Mom, these are my favorites. Please?
Jill: OK. Duct-tape them up. Then you can have a month to say goodbye to 'em, and then it's a new pair.

Jill: So, what'd you do? Join Hell's Gardeners?
Tim: Pretty cool, huh?
Jill: All you need is a tattoo: "Born to mulch."
Tim: Yeah.

Tim: And, honey, you know what? You can be my lawn-mowin' momma.
Jill: You know, Tim, the only reason that you're doing all of this is cos your mother wouldn't let you have a motorcycle.
Tim: She never let me have a dog. You don't see me out here rewiring a cocker spaniel, do you?

Tim: My torque wrench was right here. You weren't out here this afternoon, were you?
Jill: Why?
Tim: I'm missing my torque wrench.
Jill: I don't even know what a torque wrench is.
Tim: You weren't cracking any ice today, were you?
Jill: Oh, Tim, you don't crack ice with a wrench. You crack ice with a screwdriver.

Jill: The wrench is not in there. That's stuff for the rummage sale. There's nothing but junk in there.
Tim: Junk? This is that swivel-based cookbook holder I built you.
Jill: Is it?
Tim: I thought you said you lost this.
Jill: Well, I guess you found it.
Tim: Great.
Tim: Look. Look. It's that hair dyer I rewired for you.
Jill: Honey, I really loved it but it... it melted all my hairbrushes.
Tim: Don't throw it out. Use it for a space heater.

Randy: He broke a tool. Just like Peter.
Mark: Who's Peter?
Randy: He's our little brother we used to have before you.
Mark: No.
Randy: He broke Dad's flashlight.
Mark: What'd they do with him?
Brad: They traded him in for you.
Mark: They did not.
Randy: Well, nice knowing ya.
Brad: Maybe this time we'll get a dog instead.
Tim: [o.s.] Brad, Randy, Mark, where are you?
Mark: What am I gonna do?
Randy: Keep hiding. They can't trade you in if they can't find ya.

Jill: Now, boys, your father has something that he wants to talk to you about... calmly.
Tim: Which one of you lug nuts broke this torque wrench?
Jill: Tim, easy. Easy, easy, easy.
Tim: I didn't break it, you didn't break it. Who's left? Butch and Sundance.
Brad: Why are you always blaming us?
Tim: Because we're always guilty, aren't we?
Randy: Some people think we're nice.
Tim: Really? Name one.
Randy: Billy's mom thinks we're perfect little gentlemen.
Tim: Billy's mom thought she saw Elvis yesterday at the gas station.

Tim: What do you know about the broken wrench?
Randy: We think you should ask somebody else.
Brad: Yeah. Someone short... and seven.
Tim: Wait. You're saying Mark had something to do with breaking my tool?
Randy: Hey, we don't tattle on some brothers... who happen to be hiding in the backyard like a coward.