Randy: You know, I've gotta thank you.
Brad: What for?
Randy: Well, because now you're the evil son and I'm the good son.
Brad: No, you're the dorky son.
Randy: OK... Let's just say this ball accidentally shot out of my hands and broke Wilson's window. Who do you think they'll believe did it? The evil son.
Brad: They would not.
Randy: Well, hey, I'm not the one with the criminal record... who got brought home by a woman cop. Hey, what's wrong, Brad? Can't you run faster than a girl?

Randy: Hey, Mom. Where's Dad?
Tim: Real funny, wise guy. You feel like doing some work? You out here bothering him? Why don't you go get some trash bags, help us out?
Randy: Oh, actually, I think I'll just go redo my homework.

Tim: You're doing a real good job, son. Hey, pretty cool, huh? If I had patent leather shoes on, I could look up my own skirt. Whee! Whee! Tell you what, when I get home from the games, we'll go put the exhaust slips on the hot rod. How about that?
Brad: I don't want to work on the stinking hot rod. You lied to me. You said I could go to the truck rally.
Tim: Does sneaking out and breaking windows ring a bell to you?
Brad: Why don't you just go...
Tim: What did you just say to me?
Brad: Nothing.
Tim: You just got two more days, pal.
Brad: Fine, pal.
Tim: You get smart like that, I'll give you another week!

Wilson: Hidy-ho, plaid neighbor.
Tim: Sorry about that, Wilson.
Wilson: I see you're ready for the old caber toss.
Tim: Ah. You got a minute?
Wilson: Aye, wee laddie.

Tim: They should wear underwear with these things.
Al: You're supposed to, Tim.
Tim: Now, that would explain the itching then, wouldn't it?

Al: We got here so Tim could practice and not embarrass himself.
Tim: Al, you worry too much. What could poss... Ooh, whoa! That's a caber?
Angus: Aye, they're 10 foot long. Seamus there is taking a practice toss. Why don't you take one yourself, Timmy?
Tim: Great. Can't wait.
Al: Maybe you should start with a smaller caber?
Angus: Aye, we've got the shorter ones the ladies use.

Tim: Brad, I know we've had a rough couple of days, but I'm pretty sure I know what's going on. Your hormones are rushing through this industrial-strength tribal thing.
Brad: Yeah, right, Dad.
Tim: Son... What I'm trying to say is... if you need to talk to somebody, I'm here to listen, all right? It's real important to me that you... Argh!
Brad: Are you all right, Dad?
Tim: Ow! I pinched my finger. That stupid little vice...
Brad: What are you trying to do?
Tim: I'm getting the tail pipe set up for the exhaust system.
Brad: I could do it.
Tim: No, this is man stuff. You gotta do all the torching and flame and... Why don't you give it a shot?
Brad: Do you really mean it?
Tim: Yeah.

Mark: We're back! It was great!
Randy: Yeah, Fordzilla set a new world record.
Brad: So? I cut metal with a blowtorch.
Tim: Yeah.
Randy: Dad, you should have seen it. He ate 19 cars.
Tim: Full... full... full-size cars?
Randy: Yeah.
Tim: Oh, no!

Tim: Have fun?
Jill: Huh?
Tim: Did you like the seats? You were right up front.
Jill: Huh?
Tim: You're trying to say those trucks are pretty loud, huh?
Jill: Not now. I'm all dirty.

Brad: George Walker dared me. He bet I wouldn't have the guts to do it. He lost big.
Jill: Yeah, he lost big and you won. Tim, what do we have for our winner here?
Tim: Jill, our little frog-lover will come jumping home right after school, 'cause he's grounded for the whole weekend.