Dabney: It's a good thing you called us.
Stevie: How long... has she been... like this?
Malcolm: Hours. She passes out for awhile, wakes up, takes more pills, and passes out again.
Lloyd: Pernabutol.
Dabney: What's the dosage?
Lloyd: Hundred milligrams, two by three.
Stevie: She taking... Fermatram... with that?
Lloyd: I doubt it. That's been contraindicated since '87. No, this seems like a pretty straightforward alcohol/sedative reaction.
Dabney: Absolutely. If she's anything like my mom, Mrs. Griffin will be knocked loopy for the next three and a half hours.
Stevie: We're completely... unsupervised.

Lloyd: I've been onto you from the start. Not once did you pull any wool over this boy's eyes. You come in here, put a paper lantern around a lightbulb and, lo and behold, you're the Queen of the Nile. I say ha!
Dabney: [Southern accent] I've always depended on the kindness of strangers.
Lloyd: Stella! Stella! [all cheer]
Eraserhead: That was great! What's next?
Malcolm: I have no idea. We've done everything we can do in this house.
Lloyd: It can't be over. Come on, think. With our brains and your gift for reckless, antisocial behavior there's got to be something else we can do.

Lloyd: I've never felt more alive.
Eraserhead: We're outlaws.
Dabney: Whoo!
Stevie: This... rocks!
Malcolm: [to camera] Hey, I think 45 minutes of rubbing out corns is worth at least an hour joyride.
Lloyd: [shouts out the window] At the best, you ignored us. At the worst, you tormented us. Now, the tables have turned.
Dabney: The Krelboynes are mobile. Behold our derring-do! [Krelboynes duck]
Malcolm: What? What's going on?
[Lois drives by the car in the opposite direction]

Malcolm: She saw me. She saw me. I am so dead.
Dabney: We're all dead. I'm not going to get into a good college.
Eraserhead: Mom is going to kill me.
Lloyd: We should just end this. We should drive off a cliff, like Thelma and Louise.
Dabney: Why does everything end in a group suicide with you?
Malcolm: Okay, okay. Stop panicking. Let's all just calm down, and think about this, okay? Okay, first of all, I don't think she saw you guys. So there's no reason we all should get in trouble, and... [all disappear] Guys? Stevie, want some help?
Stevie: [o.s.] Pop... the trunk.

Malcolm: Ch...
Hal: Ch?
Malcolm: Che...
Hal: Check? Check.
Malcolm: M...
Hal: Maaa... ate? Checkmate? Checkmate! So it is. See, it just goes to show you. Yes, well, good game, son. Lois!
Malcolm: [to camera] Hey, he lets me win at basketball.

Lois: You broke her arm?
Malcolm: I was getting a ball.
Lois: You broke her arm for a ball?
Malcolm: No, I already had the ball, then I pushed her away.
Lois: You pushed her and broke her arm for a ball?
Hal: Was it a special ball, son?
Reese: It was just a flat old tennis ball. Sometimes I don't know why he does the things he does.

Malcolm: [to camera] God, she's like a homeless person, and this house is her shopping cart.

Reese: What's that?
Dewey: My new backpack.
Reese: Dewey, that's not a backpack; that's Mom's purse. Now, go back and get something else.
Dewey: No.
Reese: Dewey, you're wearing an invitation to an ass-kicking.
Dewey: I like it.
Reese: Look... I don't think you understand. Kids like me are dreaming about something like this. We look around the playground and we see normal kid, normal kid, and a kid with a purse. Who do you think's going to get creamed?
Dewey: Is one of the normal kids fat?
Reese: It doesn't matter! He's going to be fat every day. Now, the kid with the purse, he might not wear it again.
Dewey: I don't care. I like it.
Reese: Give me that!
Dewey: No!
Reese: You don't know what these animals are capable of!
Dewey: Let go!
Reese: I'm trying to protect you! [throws rocks at Dewey]

Malcolm: [to camera] I can't close my eyes. Every time I do, I see what was under that robe on the inside of my eyelids. I can't go back there.

Reese: Hey, Dewey. You know what? I've been thinking. You know how I never give you anything for your birthday?
Dewey: Yeah...
Reese: Well, here. Happy birthday!
Dewey: I already have a backpack.
Reese: Not like this one. See, this one has a whistle. [blows whistle] Why are you flinching? I'm giving you something nice.
Dewey: But I'm not going to take it.
Reese: Here, just hold it.
Dewey: No.
Reese: Why won't you let me do something nice?!
Dewey: I don't want it!
Reese: You're going to wear this and there's nothing you can do about it!