Vic Feldspar: Vic Feldspar. Nice to meet you, boys. I'm this one's father, I guess.
Craig: Father? Ha! You pretended not to know me at the father-son picnic.
Vic Feldspar: Sorry I wasn't swelling with pride while I watched you suck the butter off other people's corncobs.
Craig: You wonder why I'm so messed up? It's because from the day I was born, I've heard nothing but four-count Burpees and constant, lisping criticism. Why don't you go back to San Diego and all your macho friends?
Vic Feldspar: I'm not leaving until you seriously think about my offer.
Craig: I don't want your stupid gymnasiums.
Vic Feldspar: I told you. Craigy, the people in Chicago put in a very nice bid. I can't put them off anymore. This is your last chance.
Reese: Whoa. He wants to give you a string of gymnasiums?
Craig: As long as he can get me back under his thumb.
Vic Feldspar: Actually, I'm giving them up either way. It's time for me to retire. I got a top of the line Fleetwood RV. I'm going to drag it across America with my teeth. Son, don't be an idiot. There is still a chance I can fix you.
Craig: I don't care. I'm not going back with you. I escaped, and I'm staying escaped.
Vic Feldspar: Okay, you're obviously hysterical. I've got to start my 30-mile run. That gives you two hours and 16 minutes to calm down. Meet me at Applebee's, and we'll try to discuss this like grown-ups.
Craig: I'll come, but it'll be for the great service and atmosphere, not for you!