Mike: Eh, I don't like any of this. I wish we could just go back to Mother's Day, where we disappoint you and you get mad. Now I got to disappoint you and Sue.
Frankie: Why are you being such a crab apple?
Mike: I don't know. I didn't appreciate that crack your mom made. It was my first event with your family. If I would've danced, it would've set a precedent for all kinds of future dancing. I was planting a flag.
Frankie: Don't worry. It was planted. Why do you even care?
Mike: I don't know. All these years, I thought your mom and I had a good relationship, but it turns out she's been holding this big grudge.
Frankie: Oh, relax. She's not that mad.
Mike: Well, she's still talking about it 20 years later. Clearly she's mad. I think I've been a pretty good son-in-law. I do a lot more for her than Gary.
Frankie: [yawning] Yeah, but Gary danced with her.
Mike: Yeah. Looked pretty dumb doing it, too. What kind of guy starts a conga line? I mean, I chased a skunk out of their crawl space. I take Tag off her hands anytime he's driving her nuts. When their shower broke, I drove up there in the middle of a Colts game to replace the nozzle. You even listening to me?
Frankie: Yeah, yeah. Nozzle.
Mike: [scoffs] You can't just repeat the last word I said. You're thinking about the chicken, aren't you?
Frankie: It's like crack, Mike.