George: So how's it look? Do I owe a lot of money? I don't have a lot of money.
Nancy: Mm-hmm, I can see that. Who did these?
George: Why? Is it that bad?
Nancy: They're impeccable.
George: Oh... Actually, it was my son.
Nancy: Well, why don't you just use him for the audit?
George: He's 11.
Nancy: An 11-year-old did these?
George: Actually, he might've been nine at the time. I'm not good with birthdays.

George: And Sheldon's fine. You know what he's like. If someone took him, I'm sure they'll bring him right back.

Sheldon: There's going to be a lecture on carbon dating at the Natural Science Museum on Saturday. Who would like to take me?
George: You know what? I'd be happy to.
Meemaw: What happened to helping me at my yard sale?
George: Ooh, is that this Saturday? I'm sorry. I'm taking him to a lecture on, uh what is it? Carbonation?
Sheldon: Carbon dating. A method of determining the age of artifacts and fossils.
George: Hey, we could use that to figure out how old your grandma is.
Sheldon: That won't work. You can't carbon-date something that's alive.
George: Well, then, we'll just chop her down and count the rings.
Meemaw: Oh, George, did my "lump of clay" remark strike a nerve?
George: A little.

Georgie: A bill? Really?
George: Room and board, buddy.
Georgie: $50 a month for food?
George: The way you eat, I should've gone $50 a week.
Georgie: Laundry services?
George: Your poor mother has to touch your underwear.
Georgie: What's the $10 a month "peema" charge?
George: Oh, P-I-M-A, that's a "Pain in My Ass" tax. My way of getting compensated for you taking years off my life.

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.

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.