Malcolm: It's not a lucky shirt.
Reese: You shouldn't criticize things you're not equipped to understand, Malcolm.
Malcolm: It's a shirt. It's just fabric. There's nothing in there but atoms.
Reese: Luck atoms.
Malcolm: There are no luck atoms.
Reese: Everyone has some kind of luck, Malcolm. Like you, you're lucky at taking tests.
Malcolm: I bust my ass to get good grades.
Dewey: Why does my lucky shirt make you so mad?
Malcolm: Because believing in that kind of nonsense isn't smart or healthy or good for society. The world doesn't work by magic or superstition. It's rational.
Dewey: Maybe you believe that because all you're good at is thinking, and if the world isn't logical then you're lost.
Malcolm: Okay, fine. You know what, Dewey, luck this.
[When Malcolm throws a baseball at Dewey, it hits and the wall and bounces back into his own nether regions. ]
Malcolm: [gasps] This... proves nothing.