George Sr.: You really want to quit football to go work in a garage?
George Jr.: Hell yeah.
George Sr.: I thought you loved the game.
George Jr.: I do, but look at me. I weigh 125 pounds.
George Sr.: That's not important.
George Jr.: It's not? Every time I get tackled, somebody's got to run over with smelling salts just to wake me back up.
George Sr.: Well, this isn't your decision. You're gonna play football.
George Jr.: You can't make me.
George Sr.: Oh yeah? Wait and see.
George Jr.: Screw this.

George Jr.: What are you doing?
George Sr.: Separating the whites from the colors.
George Jr.: Whoa, that's racist.

George Jr.: I think the saddest part about it is just how sad it is.

George Jr.: So, Vietnam, like in Rambo.
Tam: Yes.
George Jr.: That's a cool movie.
Tam: Yes.
George Jr.: Are you in it?
Tam: No.

Adult Sheldon: I've fought many digital battles in my life, but none are as memorable as this first one with my Meemaw. By handing me the controller, she was telling me she believed in me. That inside my small, fragile frame beat the heart of a hero.

Adult Sheldon: Since that night, I've battled orcs, zombies, Nazis, Nazi-zombies, a dinosaur in a go-kart, and played Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher" on a stringless, plastic guitar. But nothing would ever compare to that first quest with my meemaw. Although Leonard pulling a groin muscle doing Dance Dance Revolution was a close second.

Adult Sheldon: Over the next few days, I ran to my Meemaw's house so we could save the 8-bit princess. And if it's unclear how important this was, let me say it again: I ran.