Stevie: What's the... nuclear option?
Reese: Evidence of the worst thing we ever did.
[Reese, Malcolm and Dewey each grab a key from a chain around their neck and unlock the three padlocks on the box]
Malcolm: This is what made sure that no matter how bad we screwed each other over, there was always a limit. None of us could push anyone to a point where they had nothing to lose. Or they'd just pull the trigger and destroy all of us.
Stevie: How bad... can it be?
Malcolm: One time we made Mom think she had cancer. But we had a really good reason. [flashback to Lois and Hal sobbing in the kitchen:]
Lois: Stop saying it'll be all right! You'll never be able to raise them alone!
Young Malcolm: Mom, I know this is a bad time, but can you sign these report cards?
[present:]
Malcolm: It's not like we're proud of it. I mean, we were proud of it, but we're not proud of it now. The point is, we can get rid of it.

Malcolm: [to camera] This is the world. 196 million square miles. If I covered 100 square miles an hour every hour for the rest of my life, I'd still only see half of it. [squeaking] This is the left nostril of my brother Reese. It squeaks all night long. These are the freezing cold feet of my little brother Dewey. This is my oldest brother Francis. He's the one I really like so, of course, he got sent to military school. My name is Malcolm. You want to know what the best thing about childhood is? At some point, it stops.

Malcolm: I'm really sorry.
Hal: What? About quitting? Nah. No big deal, especially for you. Malcolm, you should set your sights as high as you can. If anyone in this family has a shot at greatness it's you. Just, uh... do me a favor, huh? Look after your brothers?
Malcolm: Okay, wait, wait. You mean everything you just said, right?
Hal: Why would I say something I didn't mean?
Malcolm: [to camera] See? That's what I'm talking about. This family may be rude, loud and gross and have no shame whatsoever... Anyway, with them, you know where you stand and when I have a problem, they're always there.

Malcolm: Um... [microphone feedback] could somebody, please, show me some credit cards? [two men flash their cards] Okay. The numbers on them are: 3699 7412 6833 9140. And 3424 1804 1835 3668.
Man: He's right!
Malcolm: Okay. If you add the individual digits on each card you get 74 and 66. If you multiply those numbers, you get 4,884.
Dorene: How do we even know he's right?
Eraserhead: [holds calculator] Oh, he's right.
Malcolm: is 4,844 squared is 23,853,456. The square root of 4,884 is 69 and 885/1 ,000. The square root of that is eight and 3,597 /10,000.
Stevie: Factor it!
Malcolm: The factors are 23 2 and 73.
Lloyd: Multiply it by pi.
Malcolm: 26 and 261/1,000.
Dabney: Cube it!
Malcolm: 584 and 21 4/1 ,000.
Eraserhead: What's the arc tangent!
Malcolm: 89 and 9/10 degrees.
Lloyd: Natural log!
Malcolm: 6 and 3,699/10,000.
Alphonse: What's the reciprocal?
Malcolm: 17/10,000.
Eraserhead: In base eight!
Malcolm: 11,431.
Dabney: What's the capital of Iceland!
Malcolm: Reykjavik... but that's not math. [applause]

Reese: This isn't fair.
Malcolm: Yes, it is. It's absolutely fair.
Dewey: I'm getting hungry.
Malcolm: We're doing it my way.
Dewey: They're getting cold.
Malcolm: Do you want 'em divided up fairly or not?
Reese: You have more than me.
Malcolm: No, I don't. We all have 29 inches of fries so far. I have two four-inchers, five three-inchers and three two-inchers. You have five five-inchers and a four-incher. They're exactly the same. [Dewey puts a fry in his mouth] Dewey. Okay, we're going to assume this was a four-incher from the share pile. 117 minus 3 times 29 divided by 3 minus... We each take a two-inch bite out of this one. [to camera] Last week we had curly fries. It took us three hours.

[As Reese sleeps, Malcolm puts his hand in a jug of water]
Malcolm: [to camera] I picked this trick up in camp last year. This is going to be great. Wait for it. Wait for it- Oh, screw it. [pours water on Reese's crotch]
Reese: [wakes up] Oh, man.
Malcolm: What's wrong, Reese?
Reese: Nothing! Just- Just shut up and go to sleep, okay?
Malcolm: [to camera] It's good to be alive.

Lois: Come on, children. Quickly, quickly.
Kitty: Those pants went out of style in the '80s and they were ugly back then. Don't you give me that look. You got a eye problem?
Malcolm: [to camera] Whoa. Interesting dinner. Stevie beat the crap out of Reese, his dad got drunk, and his mom's gone totally psycho. Oh, my God... we're contagious.

Lois: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What happened to you?
Malcolm: What happened to me? I'll tell you what happened to me. Since Reese got whipped by that girl, he stopped being the school bully, so now there's no one to protect me from people who think I'm an unfunny little smart ass, which is evidently everyone.
Hal: Well, you can be a little sarcastic.
Malcolm: Thanks, Dad. I feel better.
Hal: Case in point. [to Lois] Well, he can be.

Cynthia: Malcolm, what are you doing?
Malcolm: Look, Cynthia, believe me, I'm trying to kiss you, and I think if you just give me a minute to clear my head, I'll be able to kiss you, okay?
Cynthia: Excuse me?!
Malcolm: Francis said she'd do this.
Cynthia: And who, exactly, is Francis?
Malcolm: It's not what you think. He's my brother.
Cynthia: You were going to kiss me, and you're thinking about your brother?
Malcolm: No, I was thinking about my mom. No, I mean, I was thinking about your bra. I mean... I was thinking about what's in your bra. Uh... I mean, what will be in your bra. Oh, can I start over?
[After Cynthia pokes Malcolm with her fingers, knocking him down, she kicks him and walks out]
Malcolm: [groans] I wonder if I can convince anyone this is a hickey.

[Malcolm stares at Beth as she applies lip gloss]
Beth: [inaudible] Are you deaf?
Malcolm: What?
Beth: I guess that's a yes to the "do you like my lip gloss?" question.
Malcolm: Yeah. Uh, yes. I mean, why wouldn't I say yes to anything you ask?
Beth: Hey, not bad. You're a pretty smooth talker. What else are you good at?
Malcolm: A lot of things.
Beth: So, how about you pick... one thing?
Malcolm: Maybe I will.
Beth: Maybe I'd like that.
Malcolm: Maybe you would.
Beth: My roll.
Malcolm: Maybe it is. [to camera] I just can't seem to stop talking like this.