Mike: Hey. Why are you crying?
Sue: I'm just so scared.
Mike: Honey, I'm gonna give you a piece of advice that my dad gave me once. He said, "Son, stuff those feelings down. Stuff 'em down, and eventually they'll go away." And I have not cried since.

Frankie: Okay, what do you think? Shades open or closed? No. Closed looks like we're hiding something. Open. Open. [gasps] Oh, my God. The raccoons tore into the garbage that never got picked up. Sue, get out there and clean that up. Okay, where is the Bible? I wanna put it on the coffee table. You know, we don't have a real book anywhere. Just People magazine. Mike, quick, turn all the TVs to PBS.
Mike: What channel is that?
Frankie: I don't know.

Frankie: [v.o.] I don't think I ever knew what relief meant until that moment. There was an upside to all that happened, though. I had written proof that I was a good parent, and believe me, it came in handy.
Axl: Whoa! I cannot believe that you won't let me go car skiing. It's safe. There's a spotter car that follows right behind. Oh, my God. You are the worst mom ever.
Frankie: Really? The state of Indiana seems to disagree.
Frankie: [v.o.] Yep. It was good to have it in writing.

Frankie: Trash day! Bring out your trash!
Mike: Come on, guys, move! Trash truck's a block away!
Frankie: [v.o.] Okay, okay. I know it probably looks a little insane to be so nuts about Trash Day, but see, due to recent cutbacks, trash pickup only happens once every two weeks. If you miss it, you're screwed.
Frankie: We're never gonna make it! Brick, what are you doing under there?
Brick: I'm tired of sleeping with Axl. His bed's always squeaking. I want my own room.
Frankie: How long have you been sleeping under there?
Brick: A month.
Frankie: All right, whatever. Just get rid of your trash. You know, I don't understand why nobody obeys the chore chart. Axl was supposed to take out the garbage. Sue was supposed to clean up last night. I mean, why do we even bother making a chore chart if nobody pays any attention to it?
Axl: There's nothing on it!
Frankie: Yeah. Because I haven't bought the dry-erase markers yet. But it's all up here, and you're supposed to remember what I told you. I swear, I spend my whole life cleaning up other people's crap.

Frankie: [v.o.] The day started off lousy, and then it got weird.
Mr. Ehlert: So out of the goodness of my heart, I'm gonna reach into my own wallet, and instead of buying that second pontoon boat, I'm gonna spend the money on buying some TV ad time. I decided to dust off my old commercial from when we were up to our jockstraps in good times.
Woman: [on tape] Help! Help! I'm being assaulted by high prices!
Mr. Ehlert: [on tape] Just keep cool, little lady. I'm Don Ehlert of Ehlert Motors, and they're not gonna get away with that on my lot. [funk music plays] [bangs] I'm shooting down high prices... [shoots an African-American man] And bad service. [shoots an Asian-American]
Frankie: Uh, Mr. Ehlert, you can't run that commercial. It's racist.
Mr. Ehlert: What are you talking about? I'm shooting high prices. It's racist to shoot high prices?
Bob: When high prices is a Black man, yes, sir.
Frankie: I just think maybe if you made a new commercial, you might appeal to an entirely new group of people. You know, young people... Non-racists.
Mr. Ehlert: You two write me up a new commercial and have it on my desk tomorrow morning.
Man: [over PA] Frankie, you have a call on line one. Your son Brick's school is on line one.

Officer McCoy: Now I realize this may be uncomfortable for you to talk about, Mr. Heck, but has your wife ever been physically abusive to you?
Mike: [chuckles] Are you kidding? She's, like, 5 feet tall. I could kick her ass.
Officer McCoy: And do you ever kick... her ass?
Mike: No. No, of course not.
Frankie: Oh, Mike. Got your message.
Mike: Hi, honey. Lookit. See how little she is? Take your shoes off, hon.

Brick: Sorry, Mom. You told me not to tell, but I told. Don't be mad.
Frankie: Mad? No! Why would I be mad? I am never mad, never, ever, ever. This is all a huge misunderstanding. The beer bottle hit him when I tossed it gently... Just oh, so gently...
Officer McCoy: And do you often drink in the morning?
Frankie: No. I think that was my husband's beer bottle.
Officer McCoy: Mr. Heck, you're the one who drinks in the morning?
Mike: [sighs] No. God, this is ridiculous. Look... Hey, you know what? We have a teenage son that is a huge pain in the butt. Don't you think if we wanted to abuse somebody, we would have abused him?

Frankie: [v.o.] You know all those times you wished someone would come and take your kids away? Well, the reality isn't really as great as the fantasy.
Frankie: Okay. So the social worker's coming tomorrow afternoon for the home visit.
Axl: So if I tell the social worker that you hit me, too, does that mean that I can, like, trade up to a better foster family or...

Sue: Shut up, shut up, shut up! They're gonna split us up! They're gonna take us away!
Mike: Relax. Nobody's taking anybody anywhere. This is a formality so they can sign their paperwork. We're gonna answer their questions. Brick's gonna tell them what really happened, and they're gonna see what a normal family we really are.
Brick: [lifts up blanket from under the table] Can I have dinner here in my room tonight?
Frankie: [v.o.] And at that moment, it dawned on us that our future rested in Brick's hands. God help us.

Frankie: So, Brick, your dad and I thought it might be fun to have a little practice run at some of the questions the social worker might ask you.
Mike: Sprinkles?
Brick: Okay.
Mike: Okay. There you go. So for example, uh, what would you say if she asked you if your mom ever hits you?
Brick: Not deliberately.
Frankie: Okay. That's a good answer. But you know what's a good answer, too? "No." Just... no.