Mary: What time are you home tonight?
George: Late. I'm working at Ballard's after practice again.
Mary: How long can you keep this up?
George: Uh, maybe I'll get fired from the high school and only have one job to worry about.
Mandy: I'm sorry.
George: Me, too.

Mary: So he's really good to graduate?
Principal Petersen: He sure is. I got to tell ya, usually when kids leave school after two years, it's not for college. It's for prison or pregnancy.
George: Well, between Georgie and Missy, we may hit the trifecta.
Mary: George!
George: Well, I'm not rooting for it. It's just a thing that could happen.

Georgie: You know what else is nice?
George: Hmm?
Georgie: I get to learn from all your parenting mistakes.
George: I'm starting to think letting you live this long was one of 'em.
Georgie: Like that. I'd never say something so awful to my kid. [George scoffs] Thanks, big guy.

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.

Sheldon: Oh, I'm assuming you heard the bad news.
Mary: What news?
Sheldon: Isaac Asimov died.
Mary: Oh, no, is that one of your school friends?
Sheldon: What? No, he's one of the most prolific science fiction writers in the history of the genre.
George: Never heard of him.
Sheldon: Sure you have. He wrote I, Robot, the Foundation trilogy.
George: Nope.
Sheldon: Nightfall? The Posotronic Man?
George: You ever heard of this guy?
Mary: Mm-mm.
Sheldon: Caves of Steel. Hostess. The Naked Sun?
George: Whoever he is, sorry he died. Gotta go. Bye.
Mary: Bye.
Adult Sheldon: Astonishing. Asimov wrote almost 500 books, which was apparently 500 more than my family had read.

Dr. Linkletter: [on answer phone] Connie, Grant Linkletter. Wonderful seeing you tonight.
Meemaw: Yeah, yeah.
Dr. Linkletter: Hope you enjoyed our little book club. If you'd ever like to discuss it further, I know the perfect Italian café. The cannolis are resplendent.
Meemaw: Resplendent! [chuckles] [machine beeps]
Dr. John Sturgis: [on answer phone] Connie! John Sturgis here.
Meemaw: What a surprise.
Dr. John Sturgis: It was so nice to have you at our book club. When it comes to science fiction, those things can be real sausage parties. Anyhoo, if you're free next week, I was wondering if you'd like to... [Meemaw skips to the next message]
Dr. Linkletter: Grant Linkletter again. If you don't like Italian, I also know a sublime Vietnamese spot. Have you ever tried Bún Boò Hue? [machine beeps]
Dr. John Sturgis: I don't know why I said "sausage party." There was probably a better way to phrase that. [machine beeps]
Dr. Linkletter: Connie, Grant Linkletter...

Georgie: [answers phone] Hello?
Dale: Hi, it's Dale. Listen, you gotta tell your dad.
Georgie: Well, I will, eventually.
Dale: Well, if you don't, I'm gonna.
Georgie: I just need more time to figure things out.
Dale: Well, your dad's sniffing around here, he's asking a lot of questions.
Georgie: What kind of questions?
Dale: Like why are you talking to me instead of him?
Georgie: Why does he care?
Dale: His feelings are hurt.
Georgie: That's weird.
Dale: I know. 'Cause talking to you ain't great.
George: [opens door] Can I get a hand with something?
Dale: Yeah. [on the phone] Oh, gotta go. I love you, Mom. Bye-bye. [hangs up]
George: Your mom's still alive?
Dale: Huh?