Tim: Wilson, I think I heard a mouse in my basement and Jill got real freaked out about that itty-bitty thing. Can you believe that?
Wilson: Well, fear is perfectly natural. Everybody's afraid of something.
Tim: What about you, Wilson? What are you afraid of?
Wilson: I do have one underlying fear, Tim. I'm afraid that reality as we know it is someone else's dream, and... when the dreamer awakes, I'll no longer exist.
Tim: Wilson, I wouldn't share that with too many people.

Tim: OK, guys. Come on down to the basement. The climate control center of our house. Watch what you're doing. [hits head on pipe] I want you guys to meet a friend of mine. The Binford Vulcan-O-Master 5000. A quantum leap ahead of the 4000 model which we replaced this year. This is 150,000 BTU.
Randy: What's a BTU?
Tim: Technical term.
Randy: Yeah, but what's it stand for?
Tim: U is because it's a unit. B is because it's a big, beautiful Binford. That's B. T is heat. Big Heat Unit. That's what this is.
Randy: Dad, heat starts with H.
Tim: Give me that flashlight, will you?
Randy: Dad! Heat starts with H.
Tim: Heat ends with T. Heat. Heat, heat.

Mark: What are we gonna make?
Jill: I am going to have the whole Scout troop make their own paper-bag masks.
Mark: Is that all? Billy's mom helped us make a real tepee.
Jill: She did?
Mark: And she made beef jerky from raw meat.
Jill: Billy's mom is a Stepford wife. You're getting pizza and paper-bag masks.

Randy: All right, the fourth card from the top is your card.
Tim: Deal it, buddy.
Randy: One, two, three...
Tim: Ha! Ace of spadoes. Read it and weep. [Randy shakes his head] What?
Randy: That's the death card, Dad.
Tim: Yeah, right. Let me deal those. Cut 'em like a man. [grunts]
Randy: OK.
Tim: I can see it now: cars, cash, big homes, boats...
Randy: Death.
Brad: Double death.

Tim: She's right. We got work to do. Down to the basement. Because one day, boys, you will have a cold woman of your own. And you have to learn how to light her furnace.

Tim: Now, working on a furnace is a delicate operation. Almost like working on a time bomb.
Brad: Wow, that's how he's gonna die. He's gonna blow himself up.
Tim: That's not how I'm gonna die because your dad is gonna practice furnace safety tips. Okay, the access panel here says, "Press button, hold 15 seconds, and..."
Randy: [to Brad] Open your mouth, or the shock waves from the blast will make your head explode.

Tim: Honey, mission accomplished. Furnace is lit, operational. That, however, is the good news.
Jill: Good news? What's the bad news?
Tim: Well, I can't tell you. You'll probably go crazy.
Jill: Oh, please. I never go crazy.
Tim: I found something furry that rhymes with "house".
Jill: Oh, God.
Tim: There's a famous one named Mickey.

Tim: Pest control is my domain. Termites fear me. Mice whisper my name. "Hey, forget the cheese. Come back to the hole. It's Tim." "Come on, come on. He'll kill you. He'll kill you." I'll go see if Wilson has any traps.
Jill: No, no. Don't kill it.
Tim: From filthy little vermin to your fuzzy little friend. Where did that start?
Jill: Well, just because I don't like it doesn't mean I want to see it dead. Otherwise I'd have set traps for your mother years ago.
Tim: Trap wouldn't stop her. She'd just chew her leg off.

Wilson: You're scared of snakes, Tim?
Tim: Ugh, man. Hey, snakes are supposed to live in the woods.
Wilson: Well, this whole area used to be woods, Tim. But as man has taken over his habitat, they've become suburban snakes.
Tim: Suburban snakes? What, they work here, commute back to the woods?
Wilson: No, they could be right here living in your own backyard. Or somebody in the neighborhood could be breeding snakes. All you need is a cardboard box and a light bulb.
Tim: What kind of sicko would breed snakes?
Wilson: Well, Tim, snakes are clean, low-maintenance pets. Plus, they have a very firm, nutty-tasting flesh.

Tim: How many pizzas do we need?
Jill: Four large, but get different toppings.
Tim: All right. [on the phone] I need four larges with two meat... Hold on a minute. [to the boys] Is anybody allergic to anything out there?
Boy: [o.s.] Jimmy's allergic to everything.
Jimmy: [o.s.] Am not.
Tim: [on the phone] All right, all right, all right. Apparently, we need a big cheese pizza with decongestant all over it. I'm kidding around, fella.