Francis: [on the phone] Mom, I'm calling to remind you that today is the last day to buy me a plane ticket home for my... [whispers] birthday.
Lois: Honey, we talked about this. We can't fly you back here in the middle of the week. You'd only be here for eight hours.
Francis: But, Mom...
Lois: Sweetie, I'm sorry. I wish things were different, but you were just home for Thanksgiving, and that's all we can afford right now.
Francis: Mom, you don't know what they do to people around here on their... [whispers] birthday. They strip you naked, and they shave every hair off your body and they throw you in the reflecting pond. Is that what you want for me?
Lois: I'm impressed, Francis. Your stories are getting better; at least more believable.
Francis: What stories?
Lois: Oh, when you wanted to come home for that party and you swore the academy was being terrorized by a pack of feral dogs?
Francis: Which were never caught.
Lois: Francis, I want you home for your birthday, too, but we just can't afford it.
Francis: Fine. I guess I'll just fend for myself and hope these monsters don't find out it's my... you know.