Eric: Um, is this red stuff gravy or blood?
Donna: There's no gravy.
Eric: Oh. Well, I guess it's just kinda moist then. Actually, it's kinda pink. Is this ham?
Donna: No, it's Chicken Pinciotti. Mine looks fine. Well, if you don't wanna eat yours we have some Fruity Pebbles.
Eric: No. No. Grown-ups don't eat Fruity Pebbles. They eat chicken.
Donna: What grown-ups? Where are these grown-ups?
Eric: Donna... us. The whole point of this weekend is to prove that we're grown up and that Red doesn't know what he's talking about when he says I'm immature.
Donna: It is? I don't know. I thought the point of this weekend was to have, you know, a fun, light weekend.
Eric: Yeah. No, it will be fun and light. It's just that in the next 36 hours, I would like to prove to myself that my father's been wrong about me my entire life. But in a fun, light way.
Donna: Well, whatever. You don't have to eat the chicken.
Eric: No! What? No. Are you kidding? I was kidding. [chuckles] I'm doing our grown up, domestic squabbling thing, you know? It's like, I make fun of your cooking, you tell me to put on pants when we have company.
Donna: Are you gonna stop wearing your pants? 'Cause I might have a problem with that.
Eric: See? Good, we're bickering like husband and wife. What, you call this dinner? [laughs] Hey, take my wife, please. [laughs] [eats] That's delicious.