Tim: I'm gonna run you down to the emergency room, get an x-ray for you, write a note to Mom.
Randy: Dad, I don't need to go to the emergency room.
Tim: [chuckles] That's what I usually tell Al.
Randy: Well, how does he get you to go?
Tim: I don't know. I'm usually passed out by then.

Tim: Don't worry. They'll take real good care of you here.
Randy: Is this the emergency room you come to all the time?
Tim: I don't come here all the time.
Delivery Guy: Hey, Tool Man.
Tim: Hey, buddy.
Marge: Hi, Mr. Taylor.
Buzz: Hey, Tim.
Tim: Hey, Buzz. How are those little girls...? Chanel and Cher, right?
Buzz: Good. Real good.
Tim: Hey, Laurie.
Randy: You're better known here than you are at Sears.

Jill: Brad, where's your saxophone? You have a lesson in 20 minutes.
Brad: Mom, why do I have to keep taking these stupid lessons?
Jill: Brad, sit down.
Brad: Is this gonna be another one of those "When I was a little girl" stories?
Jill: No. Will you just listen? [long pause] When I was a little person about your age... I had to take flute lessons for five years, and it wasn't always fun, but I was really glad that I stuck to it.
Brad: Why? It's not like you ever play the flute now.
Jill: Well, that's true, but I take great joy in knowing that I could if I wanted to. Besides, if you get really good at it, we could have mother/son jam sessions.
Brad: There's a dream come true.