Philip: Is there more?
Carlton: I'm afraid so, Dad. We never got the clasp fixed on Mom's bracelet.
Philip: [chuckles] You never got the... [laughs; Will & Carlton start laughing] I don't know what to say. [all still laughing]
Will: We don't.
Philip: What can I do? What do you boys think I should do?
Will: I don't know. Reward us for our honesty? [all laugh uproariously] Hey, it worked for the Beave.
Philip: The Beave! [shouts] Do I look like a White guy named Ward? Now, you get that bracelet back and for the next six weeks I don't want to hear you breathe. Or I'm calling the Feds myself.
Will: I guess this probably ain't the best time to tell him we ran over the mailbox.

Philip: This is a delicious meal, Geoffrey. You've outdone yourself.
Geoffrey: You're too kind, sir. Moron! Fathead!
Vivian: Geoffrey, must you listen to the Dodgers game during dinner?
Geoffrey: I'm terribly sorry, madam. But it is the bottom of the ninth, bases are loaded. However, I will maintain my professionalism. Bunt, you pasty-faced sod! Peas?

Geoffrey: Ah, Master Will.
Will: Hey, G.
Geoffrey: The Boogie Buns Agency called. It appears you have a job this evening.
Will: Bad! My first gig. Hey, where is it?
Geoffrey: The address is on the counter.
Will: All right.
Geoffrey: Oh, and they also requested that you bring a spare G-string.
Will: There's an explanation for that, G.
Geoffrey: [covers ears and hums]