Lois: Chair. Book. Window. Mama. Come on, Jamie, you can talk, just one word. Hal, has Jamie said anything in front of you yet?
Hal: Whatever he said, he's a liar, Lois! He hasn't seen anything.
Lois: What are you talking about?
Hal: What are you talking about?
Lois: I'm worried about Jamie. He's... however old he is, and he hasn't said a word yet.
Hal: I thought that's what we liked about him.
Lois: You know, it's probably his filthy ears. I bet he's all plugged up with wax and he can't hear anything.
Hal: I don't think so. Relax, honey. Kids go at their own pace. Heck, in sixth grade, I had a full beard, and I still couldn't tie my shoes properly.

Hal: Dewey! Get out here right now. You're smoking again after we talked about this last week? You know what that does to you.
Dewey: I'm cutting back.
Hal: Cutting back? How many cigarettes are you smoking?
Dewey: Under two packs a day.
Hal: What?! How is that even possible? I got rid of the cartons in the garage.
Dewey: Well, you didn't get rid of the ones hidden in the crawlspace. Or the rain gutters, or under the ivy. There's thousands of cigarettes hidden all over the place. How could you spend all that money and not even smoke them? I could have gone to private school!

Hal: Keep it down. Look, Dewey, I'm sorry, but I had such a hard time quitting. The only way I could do it without freaking out was knowing they were there. I know it sounds crazy.
Dewey: I'll tell you what's crazy. Being hooked on these stupid things even though I hate the way they taste and smell.
Hal: Well, those are really stale. You're not getting the fresh, rich flavor... Never mind! The point is, you can beat this. We'll do it together. Listen, you know how much I love coffee, right?
Dewey: Yeah, I've seen you drink it in the shower.
Hal: Exactly. I must drink three pots a day, easy. Well, I'm willing to give it up for you, cold turkey, if you give up smoking.
Dewey: Really?
Hal: Absolutely. That way we're both suffering. We both know what the other's going through and we can support each other. You and me, Dewey. We'll be a team.
Dewey: That sounds great, Dad. Just let me have one more to get it out of my system. We can start-
Hal: Dewey.
Dewey: All right.

Malcolm: Come on, Stevie, pay attention. You just had Hitler invade Malibu.
Stevie: Sorry.
Malcolm: What's up with you lately?
Reese: Hi, guys.
Malcolm: Hey, Reese, how'd it go with the principal?
Reese: Fantastic. I love when they get old and they start just phoning it in. [holds up bloody knuckles] He's actually willing to believe this is from obsessive hand washing. [mouths to Stevie] Four days.
Malcolm: Reese took out Scotty Riselli today. It was brutal. You should have seen it. He hit him so hard, a few times he actually lifted him up in the air. And the blood was... I mean, there's always blood, but Scotty was like one of those big sprinklers, you know? And once he went down, Reese went to work on him. Did you know he had dental tools? Hey, I get Africa.

Stevie: Can I... ask you something?
Malcolm: Sure.
Stevie: Do you find... my personality... abrasive?
Malcolm: What?
Stevie: Do you think... I'm needlessly... antagonistic?
Malcolm: I don't know. Probably. What do you care?
Stevie: I don't... want anyone... to hate me.

Lois: And so I spend all this time every morning on my hair, trying to get it just so, although I know no one else notices. It's such a stupid vanity thing. I don't know why I'm so neurotic about my hair. You know, it's just ridiculous if you think about it. I wish I could let it go, but it's like I just can't help myself.

Hal: Slow down. You haven't had breakfast yet.
Dewey: Well, if you got me the nicotine gum like I asked, then... [violently coughs]
Lois: You okay?
Hal: Oh, that? That's nothing, Lois. That's just puberty. You know, when a boy's lungs drop. This is how it hits all the men in my family. Hacking cough, dark circles under the eyes, yellowing fingers.

Lois: So, there I am, 13 years old, flat-chested as I can be, everyone around me is sprouting, and I'm feeling just horrible about myself. And why? No reason at all. I'm getting straight A's, I'm running the food drive, I'm all-county on the gymnastics team, and none of this means anything to me because I'm so fixated on my bustline. [sobs] And so like an idiot, I started stuffing my bra with toilet paper. Even after all these years, I remember every morning in the bathroom, shoving these things down my shirt and feeling like such an awkward, ugly, little girl. [Jamie knocks a box of tissues off the table] Thank you. Of course in second-period Spanish I had to sit next to the snooty Janice Montgomery with her tangerine nail polish, which I was dying to try, but of course she wouldn't let me because I had drugstore shoes.
Malcolm: [enters] Hey, Mom.
Lois: [holds up a pillowcase to her face] Look at these stains. You boys are in so much trouble. No more pillowcases for a month.
Reese: Okay.

Hal: Fixing something?
Dewey: Dad. Hi.
Hal: I'm so disappointed in you, son. We had an agreement. [machine rumbles]
Dewey: What was that?
Hal: What was what? [Dewey uses his lighter to see the coffee pot] All right, we both have a problem.
Dewey: This is so degrading. On the way home from school, I almost pulled a cigarette butt out of the gutter.
Hal: I french-kissed your mother this morning just to lick the coffee off her teeth. But we can do this. We just need to find a way to divert our minds when the pangs get too bad.
[later that night, Lois wakes up and walks outside:]
Lois: Hal, what are you doing?
Hal: What's it look like I'm doing? Can't a father have a friendly game of catch with his son?!
Dewey: We're having fun!

Lois: I had that dream again last night. Cheerleading tryouts. Like it wasn't bad enough it happened, I have to relive it for the rest of my life. I was so excited to think that I might be a Cougar, and finally feel like I belonged. The routine was nothing, I'd done that stuff in gymnastics for years. And still, I practiced that routine for weeks making sure that it was perfect. The day of the tryouts, I borrowed my sister's good sweater, spent about an hour on my hair, stuffed my bra, even shoved a little extra in there for luck. And when I got down to the gym, I found out I had to go first, in front of the whole squad and everyone else who was trying out. So I just pretended to be braver than I was. I smiled real big, and I went out there and I started my routine. I did a round-off, a cartwheel, a kip-up, it was going great, I was so happy. I landed my back-flip dead solid perfect. I threw up my arms, and instead of everybody cheering everybody was laughing. And I looked down, and there was a 30-foot-long trail of toilet paper along the tumbling mat. Everything I worked for, everything I wanted so desperately... ruined because of my vanity. And you know what the worst part is? I didn't even learn anything. Deep down, I'm still just as shallow as I was then. All that fussing and primping and time I wasted to shut out laughter that stopped 30 years ago. It's disgusting. If I had any guts I would just cut off my hair right now. You know, just face it down, and beat it! [phone rings]