Missy: [on the phone] Pastor Jeff, this is Missy Cooper.
Pastor Jeff: Hey there, Missy. What can I do for you?
Missy: This is about what I can do for you.
Pastor Jeff: Okay.
Missy: How would you and your wife like a night away from the baby? Maybe a movie? I hear Beethoven's funny. It's about a big dumb dog.
Pastor Jeff: Are you offering to babysit?
Missy: Yes, I am.
Pastor Jeff: 'Cause I asked your mom about it a while back, and she said you weren't interested.
Missy: Oh, really? Well, she's wrong.
Pastor Jeff: Fantastic. How's Friday at 6:00?
Missy: Perfect.
Pastor Jeff: See you then. What was the name of that dog movie again?
Missy: Beethoven. And it's PG, so God's cool with it.

Mary: Missy, if you want a minute with Dad before they close the casket, now's the time. [Missy looks unsure] It's okay if you don't.
Mary: I have to. [Missy stands up and walks up to her father's casket]
[flashback:]
George: Here, let me help you with that. Okay.
Missy: [eats] Holy moly.
George: It's good, huh?
Missy: Unbelievable.
George: I'll leave you to it.
Missy: No, sit with me.
George: Okay.
[present:]
Missy: [crying] Thank you for that. Thank you for everything. [sniffles] I love you.

Sheldon: Is Mom okay?
George: How the heck should I know?
Missy: She left. You can say "hell."

Sheldon: While Dad's gone, I'm the man of the house, and the man of the house has to enforce the rules.
Missy: The man of the house is about to get his teeth knocked out.
Sheldon: Puberty's made you mean.
Missy: I need to know what happened on my show.
Sheldon: And you'll find out when your privileges are restored.
Missy: I can't wait that long, each episode builds on the last. Imagine a Star Trek that ends with "to be continued," and you don't get to continue.
Sheldon: That would never happen, because I follow the rules.
Missy: You are this close to a purple nurple.
Sheldon: [covers nipples] You leave my nurples alone.

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?