Dewey: We have to start from the very beginning. What do you feel?
Malcolm: I don't feel anything. It's just dinging, and it's annoying.
Dewey: What the hell is wrong with you? Babies understand this music.
Malcolm: I'll tell you what's wrong with me. You're teaching me bad on purpose.
Dewey: Great. Now you're stupid and crazy.
Malcolm: Am I? I asked to learn the one thing that makes you special, your stupid music, but you can't stand that, can you? You've been sabotaging me from day one.
Dewey: That's it. I quit.
Malcolm: You can't. You made a promise.
Dewey: I did not. We tried everything and you're an idiot.

Malcolm: You are not walking away from this, Dewey. You're going to help me beat this.
Dewey: I don't care. Fail your course.
Malcolm: I dropped that class last week.
Dewey: Then why are you bothering me?
Malcolm: Because you know music and I don't and that's not fair.
Dewey: It's totally fair. You just hate that you don't get to be better than everybody at everything all the time. Music's my only thing. [puts on headphones] And you know what? It's greater than everything you have put together, because it's about beauty and love and feeling, and not about proving what a creepy little genius you are to everybody, so excuse me. I'm going to appreciate music. It's all the sweeter because I know you can't. [Dewey screams as Malcolm turns the volume on the stereo all the way up]
Malcolm: Oh, my God. Dewey. Are you okay? I'm sorry.
Dewey: I'm deaf. I'm deaf. Oh, my God. Mom's gonna kill us!
Malcolm: Shut up. Calm down. [Dewey's ear is bleeding] I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Your hearing will probably come back in a while. Please, just don't say anything, okay? Let's just keep this quiet for a while. Do you understand? [Dewey punches Malcolm] Does a punch mean yes? [Dewey slaps Malcolm] Good.

Hal: [enters] Boys, listen, I'm going to grab the TV and hide it till your mother gets back. I'm going to tell Reese that it was stolen by junkies, desperate for a quick fix. If he ever suspects, you didn't hear it from me. Oh!
Reese: Hey, Dad. The guy at the video store finally admitted they have a secret room behind the snuff films. I'm going to go check it out.
[Hal stands in the kitchen, holding the TV up to the cabinets out of Reese's sight]
Hal: Sounds like a plan.
[After Reese leaves, Hal struggles to hold the TV up as Malcolm and Dewey sit behind him eating their dinner]
Hal: Boys give me a hand here. [TV smashes] Boys, help! [Hal falls to the ground] Boys! Help me! [glass falls at Hal's sides] [screams] Oh, for God sakes, what's wrong with you?! Save your father's eyes! [screams]

Reese: We'll use this system until Mom comes home, then say it was defective, and get a refund. Tonight's going to feel like we're actually inside the guy's torso.
Hal: Son, sit down. Listen... These movies are torture for me. I chewed blisters into my fingers, I can't sleep, I'm afraid of everything. But I love you, and I love spending time with you.
Reese: Oh. Like me and baseball.
Hal: What?
Reese: Like when you were so excited to teach me baseball when I was six, and I couldn't tell you how totally boring it is.
Hal: But that look on your face when I got you your first mitt?
Reese: It's the same face I use when I get underwear for Christmas. "Wow, it's like you read my mind!" [Hal sighs] It's not so bad. We're both just liars for a good cause.
Hal: Yeah. Like that stupid camping trip.
Reese: I loved that camping trip.
Hal: That's what I meant.

Lois: [on the phone] Mom? Finally! Where have you been? I've been calling for weeks. I must have left ten messages. What on Earth is going on up there?
Ida: I'm busy. Gorga, Ludwina and Marica need me to help make pickles for the festival.
Lois: Mom, what are you talking about? Gorga? Marica?
Ida: Marica's Ludwina's cousin. She married the sailor with the milky eye. And she knows the curse to give you warts.
Lois: You're not making any sense.
Ida: I have to go. They're calling me.

Lois: Well, I don't know what to say. I planned on two days to get you into an old folks home, two days to fight the court challenge, then I'd fly back on Sunday. Now I'm stuck here. It's $300 just to change my ticket.
Ida: Good. You'll be here for the festival Saturday.
Lois: What festival? [Ida's friends chatter]
Ida: You stop it. You know it's Saint Grotus's Day.
Lois: Oh, my God. Saint Grotus's Day? That's still around?
Ida: It is.
Marica: And we haven't turned our church into a Burger King either.
Ida: She's being modest. She was a terrific Grotus Day dancer. Made your children look like poisoned sheep. Best girl between the vlatnis in 15 counties!
Lois: Not the vlatnis. God, I hated that awful vlatny dance.
Ida: You loved it. She begged to go.
Lois: She dragged me seven blocks by my pigtails to some stinking butcher shop full of drunk uncles. I couldn't even see my feet through the flies and the cigarette smoke. When I was 16, I worked up the nerve to tell her I wanted to quit. She fed me nothing but bark for a week.
Ida: It's her stupid idea of a joke. [to Lois] You're not around fancy big-shots with all their teeth, sipping wine. These are real people. You will not embarrass me in front of my friends by spitting on who you are and where you come from.

Lois: Oh. Boshnik bread. I haven't had this in years.
Gorga: Does it work or just cram its face with bread?
Ida: She works. And not on her back like your slut daughter.
Marica: Can she make a Saint Grotus's Day tart?
Ida: I'd have left her in the forest with her hand nailed to a stump if she didn't. You will make the tart this year.
Lois: The tart? By myself? That thing is gigantic.
Big Kathy: Yes, let Ida's daughter rest.
Gorga: The old ladies with arthritis can make the Saint his tart.
Marica: Ida's daughter can sit on her gigantic ass all day and eat bread.
Big Kathy: Jelly, dear?
Lois: Fine. I'm here for five days. I was expecting to be miserable anyway. I'll make the tart.

Lois: Well, I finished. I almost gave up when I thought I burned the prunes. But then I fell into this rhythm, and I just lost track of time. The next thing you know, it's done. And it came out perfect. It was a lot of work, but you know something? It feels good. [a group of ladies wheel in another tart] What's that?
Gorga: That's the real tart.
Big Kathy: You kept screwing up. We just knew it would be easier for everyone if we just made it ourselves.
Lois: But I worked for days!
Big Kathy: I'm sorry. I know you'd rather be at the disco shaking your backside at a bunch of drug addicts.
Lois: You like St. Grotus's Day?! Huh?! You like tarts?! Well, what are we waiting for? Let's celebrate!
[Lois jumps up on the table and dances in the tarts. After a few moments of dancing, Lois looks around and realizes what she's done. She meekly climbs down from the table.]
Lois: Well, maybe next time you'll think better before criticizing other people's desserts.

Malcolm: What are you doing?
Dewey: Oh, Malcolm. I didn't hear you. I wonder why. Why don't you have a seat?
[As Malcolm sits down in front of a pair of large speakers, Dewey is holding an air horn to a microphone behind his back]
Dewey: Now I know some people say an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. But I think it's simple fairness. [Jamie crawls into the room]
Malcolm: I don't know what you're talking about. Just say what you mean.
Dewey: You seem confused. You want me to help you? Well, let's see if I can make it loud and clear. I can't do it. I guess I'm just a better person than you are.
[Jamie grabs the air horn behind Dewey's back]

Ida: You know, there's some diabetes medicine in the fridge you may want to destroy.
Lois: I am not going to be the bad guy in this, Mother.
Ida: I just want to understand my daughter's behavior. Why are you so frustrated? Is your husband failing to perform his shameful duty?
Lois: Oh, Mother, just shut up, and leave me alone.
Ida: After all the Saint did for us, all the enemy churches he burned, why would you destroy his holy cookie?
Lois: It doesn't even taste good.
Ida: It's not supposed to taste good. It's supposed to be hard to make. I can't believe you would humiliate me in front of my friends!
Lois: Friends? Those women are monsters. They treat me like garbage. How can they be your friends?
Ida: I need some people I can talk to, Lois!
Lois: Well, you used to need me! I'm going.