Meemaw: I'll have the rib eye, medium rare.
Waiter: And for you?
Dale: Uh, just the house salad, please.
Waiter: Very good.
Meemaw: House salad? You watching your figure?
Dale: I have a physical tomorrow.
Meemaw: Oh, so your plan is to start eating healthy now?
Dale: Can't hurt.
Meemaw: It ain't gonna undo years of red meat and beer.
Dale: I'm not trying to undo it, I'm just trying to hide it under some lettuce.

George: Should we get started?
Malcolm Green: Yes.
Adult Sheldon: I realize some people may find the ins and outs of tax law a little tedious, so allow me to spice this story up. Instead of an audit, imagine this is a showdown between two warriors in the most brutal and exciting form of combat there is... chess. Am I the only one who just got chills?
[fantasy:]
Malcolm Green: Let's start with the business deductions from Schedule A on the tax return dated 1989.
Adult Sheldon: I know, bold opening move. Don't worry, I came to play.
Sheldon: Happy to. I've got those receipts right here. Dated, highlighted... and itemized.
Adult Sheldon: Told you. For the next three hours, we battled it out. Two mighty brains locked in mortal tax code combat.
Malcolm Green: Justify this expense.
Sheldon: Our AGI was less than $50,000.
Malcolm Green: Improper classification.
Sheldon: Rolled over from the previous fiscal year.
Malcolm Green: The receipt has barbecue sauce on it.
Sheldon: Dad.
George: Sorry.

Dale: Well, you're not a fan of doctors, huh?
Meemaw: They never have good news. They just want to find something wrong.
Dale: It's kind of their job.
Meemaw: If something's wrong with me, I don't want to know about it.
Dale: That's dumb.
Meemaw: No, it's not. If I'm gonna drop dead, I'd rather do it quick and leave lookin' good.

Adult Sheldon: I'm very much a creature of habit. Perhaps it's a trait I got from my father. Every night he would go through the mail, and every night, like clockwork, he would get very cranky.
George: Damn bills.
Mary: George.
Adult Sheldon: You'd think he'd get used to it, but night after night it upset him all over again.
George: Jury duty? Son of a...
Mary: George.
Adult Sheldon: It was complicated. I didn't like seeing him upset, but what can you do? I love consistency.

George: IRS? This can't be good.
Sheldon: Sure it can.
George: When is the IRS ever good?
Sheldon: Perhaps they're writing to congratulate me on filing such a beautiful tax return.

Mary: What's it say?
George: Okay. Not so bad. We owe four dollars and 22 cents.
Sheldon: What?
Mary: That could've been worse.
George: Yeah, tell me about it.
Sheldon: Let me see that.
George: I'm gonna wash up for dinner.
Sheldon: You realize they're wrong. My return was flawless.
George: I-It's four dollars. Forget it.
Sheldon: But they're saying I made a mistake.
Mary: You also got us a nice refund. You did a great job.
Adult Sheldon: I appreciated my mother's love, but what a boy really craves is the unconditional approval of a government agency.

Sheldon: Dad, I reviewed the tax return and I was right. They're the ones who made the mistake. Uh... What are you doing?
George: Writing a check to the IRS.
Sheldon: But we don't owe them anything. They're claiming that I under-reported our income, but I can prove that they're wrong.
George: It's not worth picking a fight with them over a few bucks.
Sheldon: Just let me call them, I can sort this out.
George: Just drop it, we don't want to get on their radar.
Sheldon: But if you send that check, it's like admitting I made a mistake when I didn't.
George: Sheldon, sometimes being right isn't the most important thing.
Sheldon: I'm glad you feel that way, because, boy, are you wrong.
George: We're done talking about this.
Adult Sheldon: And there he goes, wrong again.

Meemaw: How's that salad?
Dale: It sucks. How's your steak?
Meemaw: You know how they overcook it sometimes so it's a little bit dry?
Dale: Uh-huh.
Meemaw: Not this time. It's so good.
Dale: You know what else is good? This radish.
Meemaw: Would you like some steak?
Dale: Yes.
Meemaw: Then you probably should've ordered some. It's delicious.
Dale: You are not a very nice lady.
Meemaw: [softly] Mmm.

Adult Sheldon: Now that I had prevented my dad from saying I made a mistake, it was time to get the IRS to admit theirs.
Malcolm Green: [answers phone] IRS, Agent Green speaking.
Sheldon: Hello, my name is Sheldon Cooper. Forgive me for cutting right to the chase, but I'm outside and my skin is incredibly fair.
Malcolm Green: Okay, how can I help you?
Sheldon: You sent my family a bill saying we owe an additional four dollars and 22 cents, but you're mistaken. I filed a flawless return.
Malcolm Green: I'm sorry, how old are you?
Sheldon: That seems irrelevant, but I'm 11.
Malcolm Green: Your parents let an 11-year-old file their federal tax return?
Sheldon: This year. Two years ago, they let a nine-year-old do it.
Malcolm Green: Look, these tax codes are complicated. If you only made a four dollar mistake, that's pretty impressive.
Sheldon: I didn't make a mistake at all. You did.
Malcolm Green: Is that so?
Sheldon: Yes. But don't feel bad, these tax codes are complicated.
Malcolm Green: Uh-huh. Okay, I've got your file right here, and, uh, looks like you under-reported your income.
Sheldon: Actually, if you check under charitable donations, you'll notice that the money we made at the garage sale did not count as taxable income because we donated it to the church.
Malcolm Green: Well, I'll, uh, I'll have a look into that.
Sheldon: In the future, you might consider doing that before you send out the letter. So how does this work? Do you apologize now, do I get it in writing?

Meemaw: My husband went to the doctor. And they found something. Two days later, he was in surgery. Nine months later, he was dead.
Dale: Geez.
Meemaw: I don't want that. And I, I don't want to put anybody else through that.
Dale: I'm sorry.
Meemaw: Mm.
Dale: I hope you stick around long enough to start looking like a mummy, too.
Meemaw: [chuckles] I always pictured myself more the Bride of Frankenstein type.
Dale: Well, you got the hair for it.

George: Actually... I want you to represent us at the audit.
Sheldon: But I messed everything up.
George: You did. But I also know if anyone's smart enough to get us out of this, you are.
Sheldon: Why'd you change your mind?
George: No reason.
Sheldon: What did the accountant say?
George: Nothing.
Sheldon: They said my returns were perfect, didn't they?
George: Play with your trains.

Sheldon: I want to go home.
George: What are you talking about? We're not done yet.
Sheldon: Yes, we are. I made a mistake that's gonna cost us a lot of money that we don't have. I feel so stupid.
George: Hey. It's okay to feel stupid.
Sheldon: No, it's not.
George: It just means you're growing. If you don't look back and think you were dumb, then you, then you haven't learned anything.
Sheldon: So what do we do?
George: We get back in there.
Sheldon: What if we lose?
George: Doesn't matter... win or lose, we don't give up, all right? Now let's get in there and show 'em what we're made of... what do you say?
Sheldon: I've heard you give that exact same pep talk at football games.
George: Well, I didn't have a special one prepared.
Sheldon: That's all right. I feel properly pepped.

Missy: Son of a Mitch.
Mary: Melissa Cooper.
Missy: What? I said "Mitch." There's nothing wrong with that.
Mary: But you meant another word.
Missy: I'm sorry, what other word?
Mary: Just watch it.
Missy: Hold on. So you're saying if I have a friend whose dad's name is Mitch, I'm not allowed to talk about him?
Mary: I know what you're doing.
Missy: Okay, I just feel bad for my friend. That poor son of a Mitch.
Mary: Melissa Cooper.

Meemaw: I feel bad beating you like this after you bought me drinks.
Dale: Okay, I tell you what. You want to make it more interesting?
Meemaw: Sure.
Dale: Okay, how about this? If I win, you get a colonoscopy with me.
Meemaw: God, are you still on this?
Dale: Come on, why not?
Meemaw: 'Cause I don't wanna.
Dale: Well, I don't wanna, either, but my doctor said I got to.
Meemaw: Well, my doctor didn't say nothing.
Dale: When was the last time you saw him?
Meemaw: I don't know, it's been a while.
Dale: Yeah, well, like, "six months" a while, "Watergate" a while?
Meemaw: Drop it.
Dale: Uh, last time you saw him, were they using leeches?
Meemaw: I'm about to take this pool cue and beat your doctor to the punch.
Dale: Oh. That long, huh? Look, all I'm saying is you could use a checkup.
Meemaw: I feel fine.
Dale: Okay. At your age, there's nothing wrong with going in...
Meemaw: I'm not going to the doctor, so just... mind your own business.

Dale: I want to live so long I start looking like a mummy.
Meemaw: [chuckles] You're off to a strong start.
Dale: Hey.