Larry Wilmore: Uh, Ms. Banks, the film crew called and they said they're gonna be a little delayed. But in the meantime, Sylvia over there will give you your jobs.
Hilary: Oh, don't be silly. I already have a job. I'm a famous talk-show hostess. Well, not exactly famous but I would be if more people watched my show. But really, how famous was Oprah before she was famous?

Aunt Helen: You're just jealous, Vy. Jealous because I'm fine.
Vy: Fine?
Aunt Helen: Fine.
Vy: Well, I've been told that I'm very sexy.
Aunt Helen: 900 numbers don't count.

Vy: Wait, no. You made the stuffing last year.
Hattie: That's because you were sick. This is my natural turn.
Aunt Helen: Well, wait a minute. It's my turn to make it after you.
Vivian: Okay. Now you're guests in my house. I'll make the stuffing. Besides, everybody loves it.
Aunt Helen: Funny, I don't remember voting.
Vy: Uh, no offense, you guys but none of you can hold a candle to my stuffing.
Aunt Helen: That's because it's so dry, it'd go up in flames.
Hattie: All I know is, I've been making my stuffing for Philip since he was a boy. And he always asks for more.
Aunt Helen: Oh, we all know what a picky eater he is.

Aunt Helen: Philip, honey, what happened in here?
Hattie: Oh, my poor baby.
Vy: Can I get you anything?
Aunt Helen: I'll take a gin and tonic.

Will: Aunt Helen, you ever heard of traveling light?
Vy: And that's probably just her makeup.

Aunt Helen: I make this stuffing for all my men. And they always come back for more.
Vy: Yeah, because they forgot their shoes.

Will: Look, Uncle Phil, you're obviously in pain, man. Why wait until tomorrow? I say we hop in the car, head down to one of them acu-pressure places.
Philip: I don't think so.
Will: Yeah, yeah. You're probably right, Uncle Phil. And, you know, tonight, while we're all in the dining room having turkey and four different kinds of stuffing and mashed potatoes and sweet potato pie, cranberry sauce-
Philip: Ooh, ooh, ooh. And little tiny onions swimming in a sea of cream sauce.
Will: Yeah, you gonna be right here on the couch. You know what, but that's all right. Don't worry about it. I'll have a word with Geoffrey. Have him mix you up, like, a turkey smoothie.

Philip: What the hell are you doing down here?
Will: Oh, um, I thought I heard somebody breaking in. What you doing down here?
Philip: Uh, the same thing.
Will: Pie's in the fridge.
Philip: Yep. Nothing like sneaking a little pie before Thanksgiving.
Will: Shh! Shh!
Philip: Don't shush me. This is not the first Philip Banks pie-jacking. Son, son, I have been jacking pies since, what, Thanksgiving 1953. Rhubarb. Tart little thing. From then on, the dog ate the pie. [Hattie turns the lights on]
Will: Hey.
Hattie: So I guess it's your nose I should've been shoving in the pan.
Will: Well, you know, actually, keeping his nose out of the pan would have been more of a punishment.
Philip: Get off of me.

Vivian: How was the trip?
Vy: Oh, well, a little bumpy.
Vivian: Turbulence?
Vy: No, no, no. For five hours straight, Helen never stopped moving.
Aunt Helen: Well, that's why I've always had a boyfriend. You know that's right.

Vy: Oh, Ashley, sweetie pie. How you doing? Oh, I guess you're gonna be rolling up those sleeves and helping us in the kitchen? I can't wait to get elbow deep in them turkey gizzards.
Aunt Helen: Honey, you need to get cable.
Ashley: Just because I'm a woman, I'm suppose to don an apron on Thanksgiving? I don't think so.
Aunt Helen: Well, I guess somebody burned their training bra.