Bernice: Turn off that beatnik music. Watch the road. You don't like it when I come to visit.
Eric: Yes, I do. I really do.
Bernice: You're a filthy liar. You didn't learn to lie from my Red. That came from your mother.
Eric: See, Grandma, that's the problem right there, okay? Every time you come to my house, you spend the whole day criticizing my mom.
Bernice: I tell it like it is.
Red: Okay, Grandma, then here's how it is. You're very nasty. And I don't see why you have to be so hateful. I don't think being nice for a whole day would kill you. Grandma? Grandma?
[After Bernice slumps over on Eric's shoulder, he turns the car and she slumps forward onto the dashboard]
Eric: Oh. Oh, God.