Dewey: He's gonna finish the whole thing! Call 911!
Hal: Dewey, what part of this looks like authorities should be involved? God, if only your grandmother wasn't so damned tasty.
Dewey: Now there's no way to feel better. Now I have to feel bad forever.
Hal: Oh, Dewey. Maybe you can try and think about it this way. Your grandmother... She is the most horrible woman who ever lived, but even she understands the difference between a life that's been lived and a life with potential. You want to pay her back? Live up to that potential. And if you think about it, you might have done her a big favor. Let's face it. Saving your life is her only chance of getting into heaven. Which isn't going to make you that popular in heaven, but we'll deal with that later.
Dewey: Okay. Hey, Dad? Is it okay if we don't keep the dog?
Hal: Yeah, that sounds fair.

Dewey: Dad, I've been thinking a lot about Grandma losing her leg. I mean, Grandma lost her leg saving my life, but she doesn't really want to talk to me, so I figure the least I can do is honor her leg. You know, pay it some decent last respects. Like maybe have a funeral for it or something.
Hal: Dewey, you just can't do that. The leg is medical waste. The hospital has to process it and do whatever they do with that stuff. How about this? Tomorrow, we go in the garage and make your grandmother a peg. You can paint it like a candy cane.
Dewey: No, I want the leg.
Hal: You can't get a leg, Dewey. That's just not going to happen.
[cut to:]
Dewey: [on the phone] Hello, Pathology? Yes, this is Judy Green from Dr. Weiss' office. I'm calling about the chop-and-drop he did Thursday on the old lady. Listen, Dr. Weiss thinks he may have left his wedding ring in that leg. He was pretty hammered. Yeah, again. So anyway, we need to get that leg out of there before the lawyers come around and do their Monday-morning quarterbacking. You know what, instead of the usual place, just send it to my house. I'll give you the address.

Francis: Wait, who's that little girl with you and Grandpa?
Lois: Oh, Mom, don't you want to watch the news?
Ida: Who's that little girl? That's you, you big sissy! This was the time your mother sent you to live with us.
Francis: What?
Lois: Come on. It wasn't "to live" with you.
Ida: It was six months. It felt like forever. We put you in a dress because you wouldn't pee like a boy.
Francis: I don't remember any of this!
Ida: And you never paid me for the food he ate. Oh, God, what whining; "I want my Mommy. Where's my family, Ooh, you're scaring me!" Blah, blah, blah.