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.

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.

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.

Marge: Mr. Taylor. And you walked in under your own power. Always a good sign.
Tim: Well, actually...
Marge: You know, I keep your file handy.
Tim: Actually...
Randy: That's all you?
Marge: That's just this year.
Tim: It's not me today, Marge. It's my little son Randy.
Marge: Well, how cute - like father, like son.

Randy: What's gonna happen now?
Tim: Well, they're gonna run you back to X-ray, take a photograph of your wrist.
Randy: What if it's broken?
Tim: Don't worry about it. They're great here. They'll set it in a cast, and you'll be good as new in two months.
Randy: Two months?
Tim: Oh, it goes just like that. I remember when I broke my arm. I was younger than you.
Randy: Well, how'd you break it?
Tim: Well, the first time... I was six or so, in the garage looking at my little red wagon. [grunts] "That thing needs more power." [grunts]

Tim: Well, I'm trying to protect my young from the Vinnie McGurns of the world.
Wilson: Aha-ha. So you are encouraging Randy to act like the saiga antelope.
Tim: Yeah. Yeah, exac... What?
Wilson: The saiga antelope. They roam the Russian plains. Any invader who challenges the male's domain is met with a fight.
Tim: Arr. Russia. [sings] Where the deer and and the antelope play
Wilson: Unfortunately, the males of the species are so obsessed with running back and forth and butting heads that they barely ever eat, so that when wintertime comes they have no body fat. They starve to death.
Tim: [sings] And the sky is not cloudy all day
Wilson: See, Tim, you can't allow a challenge to make you lose sight of what is really important.

Tim: Today on Tool Time, we're gonna talk about a real American hero - the supersize sausage... submarine, also known as the SS Cholesterol.
Al: I thought we were talking about squeaky floors.
Tim: We are, we are.
Al: And the obvious connection would be?
Tim: Stick with me. Let's say your wife has you on one of those low-cal mulch and grass diets, but you got one of these bad boys hidden out in that camp cooler in the garage. So you wait till she drifts off to sleep, snoring like a band saw. You creep out to the garage to get it, but as soon as your feet hit the floor, what happens? [wood creaks] She wakes up. "Hey, leave that submarine sandwich alone, you big tub of lard! Get back into bed! You're gonna be eating nothing but fiber for three months!" And you doubted the connection.
Al: I'm hating myself now.

Randy: I'm not sure Mom's gonna be too happy when she finds out we souped up the sled.
Tim: Don't worry about it.
Randy: Do we have to tell her?
Tim: Yes, yes. You can't lie to your mom. I get two lies a year, and I'm not wasting one on you.

Marge: Mr. Taylor, this way to x-ray. [laughs] Look who I'm telling!
Tim: You know, Marge, it's kind of gratifying to be here in the hospital and not be a patient.
Janitor: See ya, Tool Man.
Tim: Hey, buddy.
[Tim bangs his head on the swinging door]
Marge: Well, maybe you can have that feeling another day.
Tim: Medic!
Marge: It's all right. It's all right.
Tim: Medic!

Tim: The point is, today, how do you get rid of that tattletale squeak?
Al: Well, first you have to determine if you have a squeak... [wood squeaks] a creak... [wood creaks] or a groan... [Tim moans with pleasure] because each one of those will require a different repair.
Tim: Right, Al. Now, Larry, you wanna bring the camera in here. Normally, a squeak is caused by wood rubbing against a loose nail.
Al: Now, if you have your squeak between the joists, what you wanna do is add a bridge.
Tim: Right. Now... older homes, like older people, tend to groan. That's because there's a sag and weakening between the beam and the joist. "Oh, my aching beam. I got such a pain in the joist, you shouldn't know!"
Al: Our older viewers will wanna write Tim at "Tool Time, P.O. Box 32733..." Now, if you have a creak - which happens when two boards rub against each other - we have an old carpenter's remedy.
Tim: Right. Take an old squeezable ketchup bottle, fill it with talcum powder.
Al: Now, you wanna direct the talc between the boards, give it a good healthy squeeze. [Tim coats Al's face in talc] You know, I don't think many people know, but on weekends Al does mime at the mall. Look at these apples, Al.