Francis: Sir, what are you doing? Why are you taking away our TV?
Spangler: It's for your own good, cadet.
Francis: But that is the only thing that makes this place bearable.
Spangler: Television rots the mind, cadet. How can you focus on your studies and improve your character if your brain is full of your Morks and your Mindys? Now you'll have time for more worthwhile endeavors. Write a letter. I'm sure your parole officers will appreciate the personal touch.

Spangler: I found myself eating the last several meals alone. Are we dieting? Don't tell me it's prom season already.
Francis: We're on a hunger strike, sir. We're not eating until you return the television.
Spangler: Ah... passive resistance. The last resort of slackers and sissies.
Francis: What about Gandhi?
Spangler: Sissy.
Francis: We're making a stand here, sir. We will not back down until we get justice.
Spangler: Now let me see if I've got this straight. I get to continue to eat, but you don't. Ooh, I feel the pressure already. [walks away] Ow, make it stop.

Francis: Okay, that is ridiculous. I mean, we should do something.
Eric: He's right. Spangler doesn't get to make arbitrary decisions about our lives. He can't tell us where to go and what to do. Oh, wait... he can. Face it, Francis, we're like prisoners but without the rights.
Francis: Okay, so we're helpless. But even helpless people have options. History is full of supposedly powerless people who found a way to stand up to their oppressors.
Finley: What are you talking about?
Francis: Civil disobedience. You know, like a hunger strike. We could do that. I mean, he doesn't want a bunch of starving kids on his hands. That would totally work.
Drew: I don't know. Isn't that a bit drastic? Can't we wait till after lunch?
Francis: What are we having?
Drew: Shepherd's pie.
Francis: The strike starts now!

Spangler: Good morning, cadets. I must say, it is inspiring to see young men with the courage to stand up for the things they believe in. Two whole days. What an impressive show of civil disobedience. That's the kind of intestinal fortitude that can only be properly honored by an omelet bar.
Francis: Tempting us with food isn't going to work, sir.
Spangler: Of course not. These delicious eggs and choice of scrumptious fillings are for me. Now, here's my dilemma. What shall I put in my omelet? Black forest ham? Imported cheese? Porcini mushrooms?
Eric: Porcini?
Spangler: Oh, what the heck! Give me the works. Mmm.

Dabney: There's our fallen comrade.
Lloyd: I love Room 124.
Stevie: When's the... appendix... coming out?
Malcolm: Tonight, but I don't know... I'm feeling better. Maybe I don't need the operation.
Lloyd: What are you talking about?! Of course you need the operation!
Malcolm: But what if...
Lloyd: Don't you understand? You're sitting on a gold mine.
Dabney: Ride the guilt train, baby, as far as it'll take you. My adenoids got me this watch.
Lloyd: My strangulated testicle got me a week at Disneyland.
Stevie: I'm one.... procedure... from a... Range Rover.

Malcolm: Dad, you okay?
Hal: I'm fine, son. Just not a big fan of hospitals. Oh, they can dress it up with plants and pictures, but let's face it, this place is a slaughterhouse.
Lois: Hal...

Hal: Okay, I think I fixed the leak. Let me just reattach this here. Try it now.
Lois: Now there's hot water coming out of both taps.
Hal: What? Is that really so bad? You always complain there's not enough hot water.
Lois: It wouldn't kill you to hire a professional every once in a while.
Hal: It costs $70 just to get them in the house. Look, I know my work isn't perfect, but I am saving us a ton of money, and at least the job gets done. [lights flicker] Now, if you'll excuse me, there's someone at the door.

Hal: The tension is palpable here at the 8,215th Daily Shaving Olympics. Hal has lost crucial seconds in his lathering, but he hopes to make it up with his blade work. This is for the gold.
Lois: [o.s.] Hal, boys, breakfast!
Hal: Bacon Day!
[As Hal rushes out of the bathroom, his shirt and pants get caught on the door and get ripped. By the time he makes it into the kitchen, the bacon plate is empty.]
Hal: Dewey, don't be scared, but there's a big spider next to you.
Dewey: Yeah, Dad. There's always a spider on Bacon Day.

Reese: I declare war on that blue country!
Lois: Reese, why are you attacking me? Your dad's wide open.
Hal: What are you saying, Lois, that the boys and I have formed a secret alliance against you?
Lois: Hal, that's my foot you're tapping Morse code onto.

Man: Here's your blood test, man.
Malcolm: Thanks. Here's my urine. Good luck on the drug test, but I really think you should get some help. I knew it! [Helmut grabs Malcolm's shoulder] Oh, good... Helmut. I've been looking all over for you. [Helmut picks up Malcolm] I have great news. You see, I just had another blood test, and it shows that I really don't need surgery, because... [time lapse] If the blood count goes down to normal, that means it isn't appendicitis. It was probably just a transient infection or maybe even a cold sore.
Helmut: Yes, little boy.
[cut to a drowsy Malcolm on the operating table:]
Malcolm: I need... to talk to Dr. Harrison.
Anesthesiologist: Count backwards from a hundred.
Dr. Harrison: Hi there, sport. We'll have that appendix out in no time.
[fade to black]
Dr. Harrison: Okay, scalpel. Huh? Hold on a second. [reads from Malcolm's abdomen] "Do not operate. 'H' and 'H': 16 and 47, platelets: 310..." These are blood test results. "White count: 8.4"? Is that right?
Anesthesiologist: "I will sue your ass for malpract..."
Dr. Harrison: Uh, maybe we should run another blood test.